I couldn't move. Now I move with agility and feel well.
In the southern Spanish city of Almería, a municipal initiative is quietly redefining the relationship between chronic illness and daily life. Through a program called Active Units, more than 300 residents referred by their physicians are discovering that movement, offered freely and in community, can restore what years of sedentary living have quietly taken away. The city is not merely treating disease — it is attempting to cultivate a culture in which health is something built together, rather than prescribed alone.
- Over 300 people with chronic conditions are already enrolled, meeting in small supervised groups twice a week at no cost — a direct intervention against the sedentary cycles that deepen illness.
- Participant Blanca Sánchez Hernández arrived barely able to move between a chair and a bed; months later, she has lost weight, canceled three medical appointments, and calls training days her favorites of the week.
- The city faces a structural challenge: keeping participants active after the free twelve-week period ends, and is now negotiating with private sports centers to offer reduced-rate classes by December.
- Almería is layering initiative upon initiative — from trainers in vulnerable neighborhoods to parents exercising while their children train — betting that saturation of opportunity will shift the city's default toward movement.
Almería's Department of Active City has launched Active Units, a free twelve-week exercise program enrolling people with chronic diseases in small, supervised training groups of three to six participants. Referred by their doctors and guided by certified fitness professionals at two municipal venues, participants meet twice weekly for sessions calibrated to their physical realities. The results, even early on, are striking.
Blanca Sánchez Hernández arrived at the program having spent her days confined between a chair and a bed, with television as her main companion. Movement had felt out of reach. After completing the program, she had lost weight, regained ease of motion, and canceled three medical appointments — not from neglect, but because she felt genuinely well. Tuesdays and Thursdays, her training days, had become the highlights of her week.
City councilor Antonio Casimiro frames the program's purpose in terms of dignity and resilience. Beyond physical improvement, participants socialize, rebuild self-esteem, and develop the capacity to adapt. Instructors also teach participants how to exercise independently, so that the habits outlast the program itself. The city is simultaneously negotiating with private sports centers to offer affordable classes for this population once the free period ends, with responses expected in December.
Active Units sits within a broader municipal vision. Alongside it, the city runs Cubo Fit — bringing trainers into vulnerable neighborhoods for older residents — a program pairing parental exercise with children's sports academies, heritage walks, nature trails, and a cognitive decline prevention initiative built around physical activity. Every three months, a new cohort will be referred and invited to train for free. Almería is betting that once people feel what their bodies are capable of, the choice to keep moving becomes its own reward.
In Almería, a municipal sports program is quietly reshaping what it means to live with a chronic illness. The Active Units, newly launched by the city's Department of Active City initiatives, have enrolled more than 300 people—all referred by their doctors—in a three-month course of supervised exercise designed specifically for those managing long-term health conditions.
The setup is deliberately modest. Groups of three to six people meet twice weekly at the Palacio de los Juegos Mediterráneos and Espacio Alma, guided by certified fitness professionals who teach them movements calibrated to their bodies and their circumstances. The sessions are free. The commitment is twelve weeks. After that, the city hopes something sticks.
Blanca Sánchez Hernández was one of the first to complete the program. Before enrolling, she spent her days moving between a chair and a bed, television her primary companion. She had gained weight. Movement felt impossible. "I couldn't move," she said later. Now, months in, the change is visible to everyone around her. She has lost weight. She moves with ease. She has canceled three doctor's appointments because she feels genuinely well. The days she trains—Tuesdays and Thursdays—have become her favorites. She recommends the program to anyone who will listen, especially older people.
Her transformation is not incidental to the program's design; it is the entire point. Antonio Casimiro, the city councilor overseeing the initiative, frames it in terms of resilience and dignity. "We're working to help everyone incorporate physical exercise into their daily lives," he explained during a recent visit to observe a session. The benefits extend beyond the body. Participants socialize. Their self-esteem strengthens. They build what Casimiro calls resilience—the capacity to endure and adapt.
But the city is thinking beyond these twelve weeks. During the training sessions, instructors teach participants how to exercise independently, without supervision or structure. Simultaneously, the municipality has approached private sports centers across Almería with a proposal: create classes specifically for this population and offer them at reduced rates once the free period ends. The city is waiting for responses in December—pricing, commitment, willingness to participate. The goal is clear: transition people from free municipal programs into sustainable, affordable options they can maintain on their own terms.
The Active Units are one piece of a larger vision. The Department of Active City has also launched Cubo Fit, which brings trainers into vulnerable neighborhoods to work with older residents. There is a program called "Train While Your Child Trains," designed so parents exercise while their children attend sports academies—a way to keep adults active rather than sedentary in the bleachers. The city organizes heritage walks and nature trails. It has partnered with health centers on a cognitive decline prevention program that uses exercise as its primary tool.
The ambition underlying all of this is to transform Almería itself—to make it not just a place where people live, but a place where living actively is the default. Every three months, new cohorts of people with chronic diseases will be referred by their doctors and invited to train for free. Some will continue afterward. Some will not. But the city is betting that once people experience what their bodies can do, once they feel the difference between sedentary and moving, the choice becomes easier. Health, in this vision, is not something you receive from a doctor. It is something you build, together, in a gymnasium, three to six people at a time.
Notable Quotes
I had excess weight and could barely move. I spent all day going from chair to bed, watching television. Now these trainings have changed my life. I move with ease, feel good and happy, have lost weight, and canceled three doctor appointments.— Blanca Sánchez Hernández, program participant
We're working to help everyone incorporate physical exercise into their daily lives. These units help with physical, mental and emotional well-being, build social connection, strengthen self-esteem and resilience.— Antonio Casimiro, City Councilor for Active City, Urban Mobility and Sports
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a city government invest in a program like this? What's the actual return?
The return is measured in canceled doctor's appointments, in people who stop spending their days in chairs, in someone like Blanca who went from isolated to social. But also—and this matters—it's cheaper to keep people healthy than to treat them when they're sick. A person exercising regularly costs the health system less.
Three to six people per group seems very small. Why not larger classes?
Because when you have a chronic disease, you need attention. Your body is different. Your capacity is different. A trainer can't watch thirty people and catch the one person doing something that will hurt them. Small groups mean safety and dignity—you're not just a body in a crowd.
The program is free for three months, then what? Won't people drop out when they have to pay?
Some will. But the city is negotiating with private gyms to offer reduced rates. And they're teaching people how to exercise on their own, at home, in parks. The goal isn't to keep them dependent on the city. It's to give them the tools and the habit, then let them choose what comes next.
What happens to someone like Blanca after those twelve weeks?
She's supposed to keep going. Either at a private gym at a discount, or on her own, or in one of the other city programs. The real test is whether she stays active. The program can't force that. It can only show her what's possible.
Is this just about exercise, or is it about something else?
It's about what happens when you give someone permission to believe their body can change. Blanca canceled three doctor's appointments. That's not just fitness—that's hope. That's someone saying, I'm not broken, I'm just inactive. And that's fixable.