From the bulletproof monk to the overly-social climber, here are the fitness tribes you’ll meet in 2019.

The powerful drive to be a member of a tribe is evolutionarily hard-wired in us from back when isolation could limit access to resources and threaten survival. Humans are social creatures. Indeed, our ability to create and maintain large groups is what separates us from the animals (along with, hopefully, our dress sense). Which explains why, to this day, we continue to strenuously seek strength in numbers, at work, at play and even in the gym.

To help you identify which fitness tribe to join, or which you’re already initiated into, MR PORTER has conducted an anthropological survey of five dominant species and their distinguishing characteristics in the manner of Sir David Attenborough. Sweat Life On Earth, if you will. If nothing else, it helps to have moral and, occasionally, physical support, plus somebody who’s interested in your regimen to talk to about it with. All. The. Time.

Yoga, calisthenics, natural movement. If a practice can be traced back thousands of years and predates the invention of Pumping Iron-age tools, then this proto-fitness hipster was into it before it became cool again after several intervening millennia. A snake-hipped part-man, part-orangutan, he eats paleo and forgoes man-made facilities in favour of nature’s own jungle gym, affixing his organic Olympic rings to trees, naturally occurring pull-up bars or playground equipment. Bearded and man-bunned, he squats at every opportunity to restore hip mobility as if he’s having a bowel movement and wears barefoot shoes when he’s not connecting sole to soil to “earth” himself.

Remarkably chipper for someone who gets up at 6.00am every morning to flagellate himself at the high-intensity boutique studio du jour, he’s mainlining a seemingly inexhaustible supply of post-exercise endorphins and high fives (even if you suspect that inside, he’s crying). Fitness-model handsome and buff, he shows off his impressive shape by shunning sleeved workout T-shirts and whipping his top off as soon as the warm up is over and the class hots up. Have you ever been to one, by the way? Wait, you’ve never been?! OMG, you should totally go! How about tomorrow? I’m booking you in right now. The instructor is amazing. He’s my favourite. You’re going to love it. High five!

Boasting more fitness trackers than appendages, this biohacking cyborg relentlessly optimises every aspect – sorry, metric – of his existence. He doesn’t actually do cardio, because it oxidises the body. Not that he could fit it in between his breathing exercises, meditation and journaling, which he does while in an oxygen tent, cryotherapy chamber or flotation tank. Popping so many dietary supplements and nootropics that he rattles, he’s strictly keto (fewer than 50g of carbs a day) and won’t eat kale because of the arsenic, but thinks nothing of necking a pack of grass-fed butter in his toxin-free coffee. He will live to over 100 and cannot be killed by conventional weapons, but is this living?

Whether it’s running, cycling, swimming or all of the above, this middle-aged Ironman in Lycra and a Kona finisher’s tee is in it for the long haul. With a streamlined chassis that boasts a strength-to-weight ratio to rival any carbon frame, he’s plant-based like his hero Mr Rich Roll and bought a Peloton with spare change found in the saddle bag of one of his astronomically priced road bikes (so he could squeeze some extra miles in either side of his pedal-powered commute, natch). Between all those hours, he spends training and the high-flying job he has to hold down to afford this hobby that he coincidentally discovered after becoming a father, it’s a wonder he has any time left for, well, anything else… Oh, wait.

Lean and wiry, this spidery man can crush the bones in your hand to white powder in his calloused, blistered grip and cling to holds with a single finger but, if flipped onto his front and asked to perform 10 press-ups, will flail around helplessly like a capsized beetle. Permanently clad in outdoorsy brands such as Patagonia and The North Face even though the closest he comes to real rock is the chalk he applies to his hands at his local indoor wall, he’s as quick to give you his unsolicited opinion on rope-averse daredevil Mr Alex Honnold’s exploits in documentary Free Solo (incredible or wildly irresponsible) as he is “beta” info on a route – despite the fact that all he’s done today is hang around drinking coffee.

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