I tried Barry's Bootcamp 'Hell Week' challenge loved by Dua Lipa to the test - I worked out for 10 days straight and thought I might end up on a ventilator

In a dark room with red spotlights, I am standing six inches from a guy whose bare torso is as chiselled as his cheekbones.  

He is sweating, and breathing heavily as he recovers from our exertions, but they are purely PG - we have just been running on neighbouring treadmills. 

So why the X-rated lighting? And where are this man's clothes? I DON'T KNOW!

I am at Barry's, a workout class where everything is a mystery to me.

Barry's, formerly known as Barry's Bootcamp, is an international fitness phenomenon that's recently marked its 25th anniversary. With 84 studios worldwide, Barry's has conquered countries including Singapore, Spain, Australia and the US.

Closer to home, there are Barry's studios in Liverpool, Manchester, Dublin and London.

Samantha Rea attempted Barry's Hell Week+ where gymgoers take on 10 boot camp classes in 14 days (seen on day one) 

But what is it about Barry's that gets so many pulses racing? I want to find out!

All I've heard is that it's hard. Very hard. And I am scared. Oh so scared. Especially as I haven't just come for one class - I've signed up for 10 classes in 14 days, which in Barry's world is known as Hell Week+.

Why would I agree to this torture? Well, apparently Dua Lipa does it - and have you SEEN Dua Lipa?!

The Training Season singer has posted on her Instagram that she's been to Hell Weeks around the world. If this is Dua Lipa's secret to looking Hotter than Hell then I need to get in on it.

For several years now I've predominantly done just lovely yoga and gentle swimming. This was fine until I ate 13,000 Easter eggs during lockdown. 

I thought the weight would magically come off by itself but a few months ago I begrudgingly accepted that it wasn't going to, and I started back at the gym.

Swinging the odd kettlebell has helped me look less like a 'before' picture in an ad for diet pills, but I need some help getting my goal abs.

Could Barry's Hell Week+ fast track my body back to its pre-lockdown glory days? And would I even make it through the fortnight without ending up on a ventilator?

The task is more difficult than Barry's standard Hell Week where gymgoers complete seven classes in seven days (Samantha is seen on day two) 

The intense workout, which is also adored for its protein-packed shakes, is loved by Dua Lipa (pictured) 

The Hotter Than Hell singer is snapped leaving Barry's after a hardcore workout in Sydney in 2022 

This is what I wondered as I stood in the reception area of Barry's in London's West End, waiting for the instructor to invite us into the studio. I am here amongst hardcore Barry's disciples and it is like I've inadvertently walked in on a photoshoot for fitness models.

A bare chested man is doing bicep curls with his water bottle and I seem to be surrounded by Kate Hudson. It is like she got cloned (but back when she was younger).

I am definitely the only one wearing Primark. My leggings are over 10 years old and my vest is of the same vintage. My trainers are probably older than the woman next to me and I seem to be the only one sporting saddle bags (I grew those myself).

The instructor stands at the door five minutes before the class commences, and asks if this is anyone's first time. I say yes, and along with the other newbies, I am taken inside the red hued room for an induction.

There are rows of dumbbells on the back wall, and we're shown the boxes of bands (oh the bands - I will get to know these well). Then we're taken through the treadmill dos and don'ts.

Filled with fear, I zone out, and my inability to take anything in means I put my hand up to do the induction two more times over the course of the first week. I fear being outed as an imposter, like: 'Weren't you here yesterday? And the day before?' Fortunately nobody questions it, so I do the newbie induction a total of three times.

For Samantha, who typically exercises via yoga, Hell Week+ is a much more intense routine (seen on day three)

Underneath the trademark red lightening, Samantha completed strength training exercises (seen on day four)

In addition to running on the treadmill at varying speeds, Samantha also completed weight exercises (seen on day five)

My instructor is Craig. He is handsome and American with a reassuringly luxuriant beard. There are, of course, lots of instructors. I have, with reluctance, downloaded the Barry's app. My eyeballs bleed with fury at companies pushing me to download their apps, but actually the Barry's app makes it really easy to book a class.

Each day of the week targets a different area of the body, and the classes run throughout the day. I mostly go to the 4.30pm class, which gives me time to let my lunch go down and do my post-lunch poo. I do not do treadmill running and I am already afraid of flying off the back. The last thing I need on top of that is an overwhelming urge to go to the toilet.

The class lasts 50 minutes, which sounds doable, doesn't it? I mean, how bad can anything be when it lasts less than an hour? This, I guess, is the mind trick that gets us through the door.

The class is divided between treadmill running and floor work (i.e. exercises with the weights and resistance bands). The format of the class is along the lines of 12 minutes floor, 12 minutes treadmill, 12 minutes floor, 12 minutes treadmill, with a couple of minutes to ease in at the start and stretch out at the end.

The floor work might involve a free weights routine involving deadlifts to rows to shoulder press, followed by chest-to-floor burpees, while the treads (Barry's speak for treadmills) might be running at a speed of 6, 7 or 8 (you pick your level) with an incline of 6, before dropping your incline to 0 and increasing your speed to 8, 9 or 10 and so on.

This is all happening at the same time, as some people will be on treadmills while other people are doing floorwork (before switching places).

The instructor talks all this through, using a microphone to overcome the obstacle of the VERY LOUD MUSIC. It is like if air traffic control had to guide multiple planes to land, via the confines of a busy Ibizan nightclub.

This format means that no matter how much I am suffering in one section of the class, I am simultaneously dreading what's to come. So that's unique.

Donning full Barry's merch, Samantha got stuck in at the fitness studio and started stretching

Booking her spot via the Barry's app allowed Samantha to find her favourite place to complete the workout - F6 (seen on day seven)

At the start of every Barry's class, attendees are handed a towel to help mop up sweat (seen on day eight)

The Barry's app allows me to book my spot in the class, which is kind of like choosing your seat in a cinema. Spot six becomes my favourite, as I discover that the floor spot (F6) is mid-way along, at the front of the class - right in front of the mirror, and near where the instructor tends to demonstrate the next exercise.

This means I get a good view of what I'm meant to be doing, rather than frantically looking around the room for clues, feeling unsure about who I should copy in lieu of the instructor (because remember, it is DARK).

My other reason for snapping up spot six is that the corresponding treadmill (T6) is at the end of a row of treadmills, which means I only have one person next to me, rather than someone either side. So it's kind of like flying in business class rather than economy (I imagine).

The app allows you to pick whether you start on the floor or the treadmill as both options take place at the same time. In a quiet class you might have a spot to yourself, but in a busy class, you might share a spot. So for example, if I've opted to start on F6, someone else might opt to start on T6, then at the end of that first ten minutes or so, we'll swap places.

My treadmill terror means I opt to start on the floor. However, when I arrive the receptionist tells me that everyone else is starting on treads and asks if I want to switch, explaining: 'It's scary running by yourself - at least it is for me!'

I suspect this suggestion is less for my benefit, and more because it keeps it simple if we're all doing the same thing, but the receptionist is charming and looks like a blue eyed version of Love Island's Eyal Booker. There is nothing he could ask me that I would not agree to, so I happily make the switch.

However, another day a different receptionist simply overrules the booking I've made on the app, telling me: 'You're on T6' when I have booked to start on F6. I do not argue, but when I step onto the treadmill it is with more antipathy than ever.

Like everyone else, I am handed a small towel when I check in at reception. At first I am not sure what it's for. It is not for showering, as there are lots of big towels in the changing room that you can help yourself to.

I assume then that it's a fashion accessory to wear around my neck like Rocky, or to casually drape over one shoulder, as if I'm on my way out of the Eric Prydz Call on Me video.

By the end of completing Hell Week+, Samantha had managed to shed 2lbs in ten days (seen on day nine) 

The Barry's trainer alerts attendees of when their running speed needs to be increased or decreased (seen on day ten)

Unfortunately, the towel turns out to be for mopping up sweat - either my own or that of my spot buddy, if I have one who's failed to mop up their own.

I don't discover this immediately, as most days I seem to have my spot to myself. However, sometimes I return from the treadmill to my floor spot to find the mat is glistening with the tears of my spot buddy's pores.

My pores cry many tears of their own on the treadmill. I am used to a gentle jog around the park, which I slow down to a walk if I feel I'm at risk of exerting myself. At Barry's, I realise my park-jog is equivalent to a treadmill speed of 5 - which is pretty much the speed they cue for warming up or recovering from a sprint.

I push myself to run faster and I think I am doing exceedingly well when I run at a top speed of 7 for about 20 seconds. This is my physical limit. I leave the class exhausted and proudly tell my boyfriend about my big achievement. He bursts out laughing and tells me he ran at that pace for an entire marathon.

I realise I need to raise my game and I cajole myself to increase the speed to 7.5. I truly feel my heart might burst out of my body. However, as the classes stack up, I somehow progress to a sprint speed of 8, then inch my way up to 8.2.

At some point, during one of these sprints, I realise I am actually fine. I am not even breathing hard and I am definitely not about to die. It crosses my mind that the obstacle here is less to do with my physical ability and more to do with my deep seated fear of over-exerting myself - aka being generally quite lazy.

Craig (pictured right), Samantha's Barry's instructor, motivated attendees throughout the workout 

Craig the instructor motivated Samantha throughout the workout, shouting: 'Yes, Samantha' at times she needed it most 

Unfortunately, this epiphany does not lead to matching the sprint speeds of those around me, as my right knee decides it's had enough of everything and stages a protest of intense pain.

This is on the second day of week two and it comes to my attention when I'm unable to walk up an escalator. Ideally I would rest, but I've got four more classes to clock up.

Thinking it might be the running that's done it, I opt for 'Double Floor'. This means doing floor work for the entire session, so there's no running - only today's class involves lots of squats and lunges.

The squats in particular kill my knee. I attempt one or two but the pain makes me fear that I'm doing some damage. So while everybody else is squatting, I stand awkwardly in my spot, at the front of the class, right in front of the mirrors, reminding myself that I'm not here to impress anyone.

There's probably been little danger of that anyway, in my assortment of ancient Primarni and random items with bits flaking off like old wallwaper. My overall aesthetic has been, well, tatty, and I'd started to wonder how I'd feel dressed in brand new Barry's workout kit.

It is when I test this out that I am struck by what a difference it makes. When I wear a pair of Barry's leggings for the first time, the fabric is so soft I could stroke my legs all day. They feel amazing. I look amazing. And I swear, as I make my way home, people in the street are in awe of how amazing I look.

In these leggings, I do not even have saddlebags anymore. And I realise, I am no more of a blobby blancmange than anyone else - they just had better, newer, more expensive fabric smoothing out their lumps and bumps.

Taking it a step further, I try a Barry's crop top with the leggings. I have never flashed my midriff at the gym before, but this is what the majority of the other women at Barry's wear. And I realise that, actually, they are not all Victoria's Secret models - they're just wearing flattering workout clothes. It's a revelation.

Craig, the instructor, motivates me through the rest of the week, shouting: 'YES SAMANTHA!!!!' over his microphone. If I were anywhere else, I would probably be mortified, but the room is dark and I like Craig's exuberance. Somehow he has memorised the name of pretty much everyone in the class and he encourages each of us individually, as well as the class as a whole with: 'COME ON 4.30pm! GREAT JOB!!!'

Craig is also doing Hell Week+ on top of teaching his classes, so I feel like his encouragement is authentic. He's been teaching Barry's for three years and he's taken part, as a participant, in around 600 classes.

So what tips would he give for getting through Hell Week+? 'Plan out your week. Block off the time in your diary, then you're more likely to go. Have someone to go with, or someone you can be accountable to, and remember you don't have to make every class your absolute best. Listen to your body, pace yourself, and always stay for the stretch.'

OK and any words of wisdom for someone who wants to try a class but who's worried it might be too hardcore? 'Any new fitness experience can be intimidating but show up early for the induction and remember that everything is a guideline. The instructor is not going to demand that you run faster. They might encourage you to step outside your comfort zone, but speeds are always guidelines, and with floor exercises, we'll always give you options. If you're working with injuries, tell us and we'll give you other things to do.'

I wish I'd had this chat with Craig before the fortnight started. Somehow I make it to the end of the challenge and rack up my ten classes, ticking them off on a wall chart in reception.

Once it's done, it seems like it was easy. The apprehension I felt at doing my fourth class in a row is now a distant memory. The pain of running on a foot injured by a large terracotta plant pot is forgotten. The glute-burn from doing Fire Hydrants (imagine a dog pissing - yes, that, but repeatedly, while wearing a resistance band) is out of mind, and the ab-ache from God-knows-what-that-exercise-was-even-called has been erased from my consciousness.

This must be like the amnesia that kicks in after childbirth, so the pain doesn't put women off getting up the duff again.

But while I now feel like Hell Week+ was no big deal, I've somehow lost 2lb and I receive messages telling me I'm looking ripped. So is my body back to its former glory? I'd say I might even be looking Hotter than Hell.