🇰🇪 Kenya 🇳🇱 Netherlands
By Suki Nakamura, Out of Office
Everyone assumes "fitness culture" means a gym with mood lighting and a smoothie bar. Kenya and the Netherlands would both like you to know that's adorable, and also wrong. One country produces Olympic marathoners the way other countries produce traffic jams, and treats a paid gym membership as something you do when running for free in a forest stops being enough. The other country has engineered an entire nation around never, ever needing a gym at all, because everyone is already pedalling somewhere at 24 kilometres an hour in the rain, looking unbothered about it.
I have lived in both. I have been publicly out-sprinted by a Nairobi law clerk on her lunch break and quietly out-cycled by a Dutch grandmother carrying two children and a crate of beer. Neither experience improved my ego. Both improved my understanding of what "wellness" actually means once you strip away the candles and the LinkedIn posts about it.
| ✅ Do | ❌ Don't |
|---|---|
| Join a free community run before you join a paid gym — Nairobi's running crews cost nothing and will outpace you anyway | Assume a cheap-looking gym is a cheap gym — Westlands prices start around 6,000–10,000 KES a month for basic equipment |
| Get to Kofisi Square or Riverside Square before 7:30am on Saturday if you want in on the city's biggest free run | Call it "exotic" that Kenyans run for fun — Kenya has been producing the world's best distance runners for decades, this isn't a trend piece |
| Ask colleagues about club memberships — Aga Khan Sports Club and similar institutions bundle gym, pool, and grounds for roughly 25,000–30,000 KES a year | Expect air conditioning, child care, or a quiet corner at a budget gym — you get the weights and that's the whole deal |
| Bring cash and patience to smaller neighbourhood gyms — negotiating a quarterly rate (around 12,000 KES for three months) is completely normal | Skip hydration and sun protection for an outdoor run near the equator just because the 7am light looks gentle — it is not |
| ✅ Do | ❌ Don't |
|---|---|
| Buy a bike within your first week — roughly a quarter of all Dutch commuters cycle to work, and you will be the one odd person still waiting for a tram | Sign a 12-month gym contract on a whim — it is the national default, and cancelling one is its own bureaucratic sport |
| Look for short-term passes aimed at expats and visitors if you're not staying a full year — services exist specifically because standard contracts assume you're a lifer | Expect a drop-in rate to be generous — a single casual gym visit can run around €20, deliberately, to push you toward signing up long-term |
| Treat cycling itself as your cardio — indoor spin classes exist, but plenty of Dutch people only do them after cycling there | Plan evening plans before 7pm — sports clubs and amateur leagues routinely start around 19:00 and the schedule will not move for you |
| Expect gyms to be unglamorous and functional in most cities outside Amsterdam's fancier postcodes | Assume "fit" means "gym-going" — a huge share of Dutch fitness happens on two wheels and is never logged anywhere |
Nairobi, per The Star's reporting this year, is a city that "wakes up running," and I'd argue it's the least hyperbolic headline I've read about anywhere in a decade. We Run Nairobi started in October 2022 with four people and a lawyer named Emily Chepkor, an eleven-time marathoner who initially bankrolled the whole operation herself. It is now the city's largest free running community, pulling crowds into Riverside Square and Kofisi Square every Saturday before most of Europe has located its alarm clock, and a single lifestyle run it co-hosted at Windsor Golf Club drew more than 500 people. It costs nothing. Rival running groups that charge 600 to 1,800 shillings for a run-and-meal combo exist and do fine, but the free model is the one other Kenyan towns keep begging to copy.
Here's the part the brochures leave out: gyms in Nairobi are not cheap, and nobody pretends otherwise. On the Expat.com forum, a newcomer calling themselves tiredofit discovered Arena gym in Westlands charging around 10,000 KES a month and was, reasonably, appalled. Another user, snow_speeder, confirmed gyms are "very expensive" across the board, pointing instead to the Aga Khan Sports Club, where a yearly membership of roughly 25,000 to 30,000 shillings buys a full gym, a pool, and actual grounds — better value than most monthly subscriptions elsewhere in the city. A third user, Rozzy, was paying 12,000 KES for three months at a smaller Parklands gym with Zumba and aerobics thrown in. One We Run Nairobi participant put the whole dynamic bluntly: gyms are "expensive, crowded, and intimidating," which is exactly why a free 6am run through Westlands has become the status workout instead.
This matters for the expat professional specifically because it's quietly a public health story, not a lifestyle one. WHO Kenya's 2025 annual report found non-communicable diseases now cause 41% of all deaths and half of all hospital admissions in the country — a Kenyan government official called it one of the most pressing issues the health system faces. Running for free, at dawn, in a group, isn't a quirky local custom. It's a response to a real problem, dressed up in good trainers and better company, and corporate Kenya is now sponsoring it rather than inventing its own wellness Slack channel.
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The Dutch didn't build a fitness culture. They built a transport system so aggressively efficient that fitness became an unavoidable side effect, which is a far more Dutch achievement than anything involving a gym membership. Research from the CPB and CBS, reported via IamExpat, puts roughly 25% of Dutch commuters cycling to work specifically because of dedicated bike infrastructure — about 350,000 more people than would otherwise bother. For trips under five kilometres in city centres, 55% happen by bicycle against just 29% by car. Remove the cycle lanes entirely, and the models predict commuting distances balloon by 30% and driving jumps twenty percentage points. The bike path, in other words, is the gym. Nobody charges you a joining fee for it, and nobody makes you sign anything.
Which is precisely why the actual gyms are such a culture shock for anyone arriving from a monthly-rolling-contract country. DutchReview's reporting on Amsterdam gyms is blunt about it: a casual drop-in visit can cost around €20, deliberately, because the business model depends on shaming you into a twelve-month commitment instead. Chains like TrainMore even reward loyalty with a one-euro discount per workout attended, which is either generous or faintly punitive depending on your relationship with consistency. Services aimed specifically at expats and short-term arrivals — show a foreign passport, get a fixed-term pass — exist only because the standard Dutch gym contract assumes you are staying forever, the same way the Dutch assume everything is staying forever.
Expats on TalesMag's post reports describe Amsterdam gyms spanning "discount, no-frills industrial settings up to those including child care, spas, massages," with one paying roughly $100 a month for something comfortably in between, and another admitting flatly, "I didn't join one but my impression was they were expensive." Meanwhile on Mumsnet, a Netherlands-based parent going by BaronessBomburst noted that local sports clubs are "very inclusive and easily affordable" — but only if you can make the 19:00 start time, because Dutch scheduling bends for absolutely no one, least of all a jet-lagged foreigner.
If you want a culture that has engineered movement into the architecture itself, pick the Netherlands. You will cycle to meetings, cycle home from drinks, and quietly become fitter than you've ever been without once opening a gym app, provided you accept that the actual gyms will try to lock you into a contract with the enthusiasm of a mobile network operator. If you want a culture that treats exercise as community, free, and slightly competitive before most people have had coffee, pick Kenya, where a lawyer-turned-marathon-organiser built a movement out of nothing because the paid alternative was too pricey and too intimidating to bother with.
Neither country is "doing wellness" the way a corporate HR deck imagines it, with branded water bottles and a guided meditation app nobody opens twice. Kenya solved the cost-and-intimidation problem by making fitness free and social. The Netherlands solved the motivation problem by making fitness unavoidable. Both solutions make Western gym culture — the one built on guilt, contracts, and a juice bar — look like an elaborate workaround for a problem that was never actually about exercise. If I had to choose which city would still be moving at 6am without a single notification reminding it to, I'm picking Nairobi. The Dutch only move because the infrastructure gives them no other option; Kenyans turn up because somebody asked them to.
Expat.com Kenya forum — a Westlands newcomer discovered a basic gym charging roughly 10,000 KES a month and found the price genuinely shocking for what amounted to a room of equipment.
TalesMag Post Report, Amsterdam — one expat admitted they never bothered joining a gym at all because every option they looked at seemed expensive relative to what it offered.
Mumsnet, "Moving to Holland" thread — a parent noted local sports clubs were affordable and welcoming, but warned that sessions start around 19:00 sharp and the Dutch calendar will not accommodate latecomers.
Here is the uncomfortable truth neither relocation guide will tell you: the gym was never really the point in either country. In Kenya, the point is the 6am crowd at Kofisi Square, the free run, the community that built itself out of necessity and a marathoner's stubbornness. In the Netherlands, the point is the bike you bought in week one and now cannot imagine living without, the infrastructure doing the work your willpower never would. Everywhere else — including, let's be honest, wherever you're reading this from — fitness has been repackaged into a subscription model designed to make you feel guilty between visits. Kenya and the Netherlands both quietly opted out of that model, for completely different reasons, and arrived at the same result: people who move because it's normal, not because an app told them to. Pack good shoes for one, buy a bicycle for the other, and leave your gym guilt at home. Neither country has any use for it, and frankly, neither should you.
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Photo by kevin christonar via Pexels
Suki Nakamura
Staff writer covering financial markets and corporate strategy. Has strong opinions about spreadsheets.