Training Wheels

The Literate Gym-inites

2008-05-03T12:27:00.013-05:00

Recently I have become a regular at a new club in Queens, which by the way does not really draw as many Queens as the borough's name may suggest. It's a new gym replete with all the usual NYSC characteristics - not truly enough space, questionable locker room antics, and a mix of qualified trainers outnumbered by those whose key credentials are there biceps, rather than their ability to pump up yours.

I really love my fellow gym mates. I have

to admit, a little Latin flavor with some good muscle tone is pretty much heaven - and this club has plenty. Most of the time I find it inspiring and only on rare occasions does it become a distraction. I am only human after all.

I like going to this club as an undercover trainer, turning off my iPod so I can listen in on parts of sessions. It makes me heartsick for a few of my regular clients and it makes me daydream about how they are doing now. I worry they are sitting too much, eating too much, and carving roast beef instead of time out of their schedule for a work out.

A few days ago I was in between sets of shoulder presses when I noticed a couple (one of the hetero kinds) who were both huddled around a book. It was a familiar book, a bright day-glo orange Abs Diet book. I have a copy and generally speaking I would give it an A+ for readability and motivation as well as a solid B+ for its realist vs idealist aims (not everybo

dy is going to have a 6 pack my friends). It's written by the Men's Health editor, David Zinczenko and if you're able to follow directions you'd do very well with the book.

I thought it was a little strange that they had the book on the floor, but then again how exactly is a book like that supposed to be used? It didn't seem like these two had a well thought out plan. They had a pattern: the guy would read it, hand it to the girl, followed by confused looks, pointing around the gym and then deciding to turn to a different page. Soon they settled on a series of oblique exercises. The girl grabbed two weights, the guy held the book open in front of her, and she proceeded to swing from side to side. I need you to stop and imagine this for a moment. He was holding the book, open, in front of her - as though she needed to see exactly how to twist her body.

The whole thing was quite disturbing. They clearly felt horrible being in the gym. They looked lost and eventually annoyed. I had to wonder about the optimism surrounding the purchase of the book. Subtitled, "the six-week plan to flatten your stomach and keep you lean for life," the book promotes such an exuberance of optimism. And here they were, feeling frustrated and foreign.

After a few poorly executed floor crunches in the middle of a main thoroughfare of the gym (during which time more than 10 people pretty much stepped over top of the guy as he flailed on the floor), the couple closed the book, disappeared into the locker rooms, and left.

Hmm. Now I really wonder what happened next. I sort of feel like they will just never discuss what transpired on this evening. I picture the book sitting on a shelf made out of a step on their in-home, but never used, stairclimber.

Sure I have seen plenty of guys bring in torn pages from magazines, but I've never seen one try to read while they lifted. It's the sort of thing you tuck into your waistband, refer to quickly and move on. I used to be religious about recording every single set, weight, and rep along with anecdotal notes about the workout. That's good practice. However, the do-it-yourself model really takes a lot of planning ahead. Building your body, your dream body, is never going to be as easy as just grabbing a book off a shelf and heading to the gym.

This couple was a huge missed opportunity for an eager trainer. It's almost as if it was a set up to see if anybody in the gym would intervene. What seemed to be a sociological study really proved to me that other people really don't care what you do at the gym. So get over it, and get off your butt . . . just leave your workout for dummies book at home and invest a few bucks in a trained professional. Your body will love you for it.

A Room Full of Sweaty Boys

2007-07-26T15:30:00.000-05:00

It should be a good thing - a cadre of testosterone-filled guys all packed in to a small space. This is the featured attraction of those pubescent wet dreams. However, after a visit to the gym at Irving Place during peak hours I had to laugh. At one point there was literally NO open spot. Every bench was being used, every cable was being pulled, every bar was being raised, every square inch of mat was being stretched upon and every dumbbell was in somebody's hand.

It isn't bad enough that you have to literally hop over a bench to move from one area to another, you also have to sit face to face with another person while you do lat pull-downs. If you want to use a stability ball - you have to wait in line. I have never experienced this before. The gym I work is a large expanse with so much room in which to frolic and lift heavy weight - and sometimes simultaneously. The gyms I normally frequent are similarly un-packed and allow me considerable options so that I can stick to my rigid fitness plan toward an unattainable physical ideal.

What is going on here? It's my new schedule and it's my new geographic limitations (enhanced by the lack of NYSC in Brooklyn (none in Williamsburg - wtf?)) Waking up at 6 every morning, arriving home at 5, eating, and THEN heading to the gym as peak hours loom. I hate it. Now I see why so many "working" people are chunkified. The schedule is tough - and who wants to work out in a place where you have to use the hamstring curl because it's the only machine or weight available?

So how did I fix it? I found a new location, one that seems to be sufficiently unpopular during the post-workday rush. I also broke down and actually bought my own stability ball, much to my surprise. It has become my office chair and the thing I most often mount. Flipping (but not like the guy to the left) through the TV the other day I stumbled on Cathe from FitTV (my favorite channel - really) whose CoreMax workouts - if done correctly - will make you feel oh so very nice. I never realized what it felt like to have somebody else dictate how I spend my time working out. I wanted to stop doing the ball exchange two reps before Cathe wanted me to - and that extra push was so worth tuning in. I also like how she says I am doing such a great job without even seeing me glistening with sweat on my stability ball.

I am living for the weekends these days - making the most of the NYC summers before the school year is upon me to kick my ass even more than it already is. Coming up soon - a Dash-tested and approved workout plan to jumpstart your early mornings and to keep you peppy and productive all day long.

Change . . .

2007-07-10T22:21:00.001-05:00

. . . and not the kind that jiggles around joyfully in your pocket as you jog down the street . . . is what I have been going through. As a trainer I am in the business of change - there is always something to "work on" and it pretty much never ever just involves staying the same. That being said, the changes that have been absorbing my time lately are not in the physical sense (although I must admit my pecs are feeling nice).

A few people have been wondering why I have not been posting. While I don't believe many people read the blog, it's nice to know that a few do. The truth of the matter is that my entire life has been turned inside out, flipped over, spun up, stir-fried, and tumble-dried.

Oh - it's all good news, it just happened so quickly.

In August 2005 I moved into a room in somebody else's apartment near Columbia. The proximity was unbeatable AND there was a doorman, elevator, a private bathroom, and even a dishwasher. The downside was that I went from a luxurious (and enormous) apartment in Buffalo to a room, the further downside was that my own personal space was limited to the confines of this one room.

I lived there, went to school full time on a never-ending pursuit of a doctorate, worked with a school reform organization, was the President of the student government, taught a marching band and a winterguard upstate, AND I worked at the gym.

Life was full, to say the least. Still I was constantly plagued with a sense of meaninglessness. The school reform job seemed like a sham (the problems with NYC schools and those concerned with them is a whole different topic), my courses at school mostly sucked, and I had more meaningless, misdirected meetings as President of the student government than anyone could fathom. I enjoy, actually love, designing shows and choreography for the bands and colorguards but the flights upstate every other weekend wore me out. Training was probably the one thing that provided me with the most fulfilling experiences.

I could have sustained this lifestyle for longer but something came up that allowed all of this to change.

I was officially hired on my birthday (June 21), which was the greatest gift ever. By the way, my amazon wishlist on the margin of this page got no action.

Sigh.

Anyway, I started working 10 days later.

On top of all that excitement, the day before my first day of work was the day that I moved into a huge beautiful loft in Williamsburg (Brooklyn). This is good livin' - with views of Manhattan that are simply unreal. From the balcony off the living room I watched the entire fireworks show. The picture on the left is one I took from the balcony - notice the Empire State Building decked out in its patriotic color scheme. I can also see the UN, Chrysler, Trump, Rockefeller Center, AND from the roof, all of lower Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge. Inside, it's spacious (15' high ceilings) and it's got these hardwood floors that glow.

All of this brings me to the point. What am I going to do with all of my clients at the gym? I wish I didn't have to stop training, but I am not sure how it will be possible with this new job. SoHo is actually closer for me now than it used to be, but I have to work all day, every day out on "the Island." My clients know about this new job, and most are excited. A few are upset at the prospect of having to find another trainer - and I don't blame them - there are only 2 other trainers at the club I would even consider sending them to and they are booked solid.

For now I am still working there and trying to give them sustainable plans with periodic sessions. This is not ideal, but breaking up is hard to do.

So, there you have it - the real story of why Dash seems to have dashed into darkness. I am back and things are calming down into regularity so you can expect more and more.

I think I can

2007-06-13T21:58:00.000-05:00

"I think I can," puffed the little locomotive, and put itself in front of the much larger and heavier train. As it went on, the little engine kept bravely puffing faster and faster, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can."

It's that early childhood message that causes people to bite off more than they can chew. Of course we can do it -- so what if we're a wimpy, little, good for nothing train designed perfectly well for other tasks - we can do it, we can haul the heaviest thing you throw at us - all it it takes is the power of believing.

Sigh.

While I love for my clients to push themselves, I actually have a few clients who actually push too hard. It's a fine line between exertion and getting to the precipice of fainting into a pool of one's own sweat. One of the guys I train that does this reads the blog and I hesitated to write about it because I don't want to sacrifice the trainer confidentiality clause, but hey - it's all positive things I'm writing about.

Sort of.

Sometimes I think people try so hard because they think that if a trainer is asking them to do something - it must be possible. Even when the veins are popping out of their head, they're seeing double, and are falling in and out of consciousness - they keep going. If I say 10 reps - it must be possible, right?

The truth is that the first time(s) on any exercise is pretty much always a guessing game. Until I know my client's abilities I make guesses on what I think they ought to be able to do. Sometimes I overestimate. Actually I usually try to overestimate because I don't want the clients to think that I think they are a nelly weakling. Most of getting through an intense workout is mental (the rest is good hydration, plenty of sleep, and energy food). At any rate the first few times with a new client is when there are scary moments of near fainting, throwing up, or severe dizziness.

I had one guy who seemed like he could do anything. It was our first time so I just assumed he was a hardcore powerhouse. I kept him moving and lifting heavy weights. Next thing I know he's throwing up. That was the end of that workout. He never even hinted that he was having trouble, he just keeled over.

The "Little Engine" effect can have hugely positive results, or hugely negative ones if the engine overheats. I say haul a huge load but keep the chasis lubed and the engine tuned up. Fill up with lots of good fuel and suck in a lot of air. Now that's a lot of innuendo.

A Little Disorder For Everyone

2007-06-08T23:36:00.000-05:00

I was never a huge fan of Bravo's fitness-based reality show Workout, but when it first began last year I was intrigued with the idea of seeing the inner workings of a gym exposed to the general public. The second season however really made me more annoyed than anything else by living up to its tagline: 3% body fat, 97% drama. It became less about fitness and training and more about the lame management skills and questionable ethics of a self-obsessed diva trainer and her sometimes "disobedient" trainer children.

However, I have to say that during a follow-up/reunion session on Bravo, the cast came together for an interesting reflection, albeit an equally irritating event to watch the awkwardness of a bitchy manager butting in to answer every question. The part that stuck with me the most was how they continued to bring up body dysmorphia, more commonly known as body dysmorphic disorder (BDD). In that moment, these trainers who I watched throughout the 2 seasons finally seemed human.

In a nutshell body dysmorophia is the unrational obsession with your own physical appearance. It's the "I'm so fat, I'm not good enough, if only I could fix this one thing . . . " dialog many of us carry on with our inner selves while looking in the mirror. Some people argue that BDD is not a "real" issue or a "real" condition. It is loosely grouped with Anorexia, but takes on a broader spectrum of behaviors, emotions, and manifestations. However, I actually think most people who work out have at least some form of this "more than an obsession" behavior.

Alright, maybe I think that because I don't want to feel alone.

There are days when I poke every inch of my body to see if I am still improving. I look in the mirror and try to see if I can still look good even without great lighting. I compare myself to guys at the gym and it usually frustrates or depresses me. I want this to be bigger, that to be more tan, and to grow taller by 2 inches. I look in the mirror and pull in my lower abs and think, "if only this," and that pattern repeats with every other square inch of my body's real estate. Like I said in a previous post, watching hot boys in Chelsea makes me want to spend an extra hour at the gym. And, sometimes, I do.

For the past 3 weeks I have worked harder than I usually do at the gym. This is coming from somebody who already never skips a day and keeps on a disciplined regime no matter what. I upped my protein shakes, upped my cardio, and upped the weights I'm pushing. My already skimpy diet has gotten streamlined and I am on a mission.

Maybe I'm not realistic - but chasing the goal does feel good. I am fairly certain I'm in the best shape of my life inside and out - but for some reason I have days when I feel like I am a slothful, chubby, squishy monster. I know that irritates people who know me and especially those that have seen me naked - but it it is what it is. Don't get me wrong, there are days when I am satisfied, sometimes even weeks. But one night of eating chips and salsa and I feel like I am ready to get into a pair of Husky jeans.

A little disorder never hurt anybody - ok well maybe some disorders hurt some people but who's keeping track? This one seems harmless, and although annoying for your friends - it keeps you in tip-top physical shape (so you're a little crazy). Sadly, like the trainers on Workout alluded, it seems to come with the training territory - all day long you are thinking about what you could (or should) be doing at the gym. The constant flow of active, muscle-bound, dark-haired, hot boys is a constant reminder to push and push and push - or in some cases I guess - a little pulling as well.

Nutrition Deficit Disorder

2007-05-30T01:18:00.000-05:00

Your body is a temple, right? So if you have a temple do you cram it full of a bunch of funky stuff? Do you let it get run down, and trashy? I am fairly certain that King Tut did not fill his crib with Fritos and hollandaise sauce. Your body is something that deserves respect because in the end - it's just you and that bag of bones you've been carting around for years.

It always shocked me that people take better care of the interior of their car than the interior of their body. Then again, it shocks me even more that the neatest, most well put-together woman I know drives around in a new vehicle littered with countless Burger King cups, McDonald's bags, Wendy's burger wrappers, and empty cans of Coke. However, the point is - if we aren't looking at the problem it seems easier to ignore. Most of us don't have the medical equipment to poke around in our own bodies (notice I said medical equipment, not the toys you have hidden in your top drawer, perv). So to get a picture of what's going on, I like to try a fun little experiment with some of my clients is to have them keep a food diary. Essentially it is a log of what goes in the body on any given day.

I met this kid online and he has the general fitness goal of toning up his body. I can't assess much without having the person in front of me squatting, lunging, pushing, pulling, and bending over (hey - I have to have some fun). However, I can talk about nutrition relative to his goals. I am a firm believe that beginners (or people returning to "being fit") must start with the food intake aspect of the process first. Master the food part for at least two weeks before you hit the gym. You'll need those good habits to avoid falling off the horse and into a vat of Ben & Jerry's after a good workout.

You can do a lot for your body simply by eating better. I've written about this in other posts, but I thought I'd share the food report I received and parts of the resultant chat conversation that followed. As a disclaimer, he asked for the feedback - I would never, ever, judge somebody's food intake unsolicited. He is a cute guy, a nice guy - and we can learn a lot from this.

Here is the exact email that I received:
Here's a rundown for today:
Breakfast - nothing. ( I never eat breakfast)
Lunch - Tuna sandwich on wheat. Diet Coke.
Snack - small bag of fritos. Dinner - Chicken and Tortelini. Diet coke.
Snack - Ice cream sandwich.

Ok, first observations, anyone? Other than the fact that we need a lot more details, my reaction was this:
Oh man . . .
seriously, we have a problem.

I can't believe that he has read this blog and thought it was ok to skip breakfast, eat chips, have an ice cream sandwich, alfredo sauce, and mayo soaked tuna with the goal of toning up his body. I think people should eat whatever the hell they want - but if you have goals, you have boundaries, and that's just the sad fact, or what I like to call reality.

Problem 1: Never, ever, under any circumstances skip breakfast.

From our conversation:
Me: you need good food first thing when you wake up; such as egg whites, and whole wheat toast (one piece) or oatmeal (NOT INSTANT)
Him: I hate eggs and oatmeal
Me: ok ok a smoothie? a protein bar? whole grain cereal and skim milk?
Him: okay...

Now I wasn't suggesting that he go for a hardcore smoothie with flax seed oil and whey protein boosters, I just want him to get his metabolism moving and his blood sugar on cruise control.

Problem 2: Chips.

Sigh. I actually have a weakness for chips and salsa. It is the only things I cannot resist. If Tyra Banks was having a show on tortilla chip addicts I'd be on it. Knowing my weakness, I only do it once in a while - and for special circumstances, like when I go to dinner with my closest gal pal for the first time in a long while.

Problem 3: White sauces.

My reaction upon finding out that this "chicken and tortellini" wasn't grilled chicken tossed in a light olive oil sauce over whole wheat tortellini:
OH NO white sauce is bad bad bad (for real) it's butter and creamy . . it's fat city it's houston, texas alfredo is the absolute fattest sauce other than pure cheeese mixed with lard

An overreaction? I don't think so. It's bad news.

Problem 4: Pre-packaged foods that you can't customize.

You almost always have to customize your food in order to make it weight-loss friendly. Let's look at the tuna sandwich, that he got pre-made from a cafe where he works.

Me: tell me about the sandwich
Him: wheat bread... nothing on it.
Me: it wasn't tuna salad? no mayo?
Him: yes... It had mayo.
Me: that's something that's fat fat fat one more thing . . the bread wheat or whole wheat or you're not sure?
Him: hmm... I'm not sure.. but probably just wheat
Me: you have to demand whole wheat

See he picked up this sandwich already made so he was a victim of the conspiracy to make all Americans need healthcare due to poor diets and lack of nutritional awareness. He actually captured the main reason why so many people eat the "wrong" things:
Here's what I think I know its not good... But its easy.. I'm SOO busy... and all those foods are easy and quick.

So we know that we don't hook up with a guy who is easy and quick, (or maybe you prefer that, who knows) but we don't have the same standards for the food that goes in our body. Hmm. Interesting.

There are so many great options out there for quick/easy food on the go in every major city. The rural areas are a lot harder to navigate. Here in New York we have Healthy Living NYC which has a lot of restaurants that allow you to make good choices.

Worst case scenario, make due with what you have. For example, if I had to eat the options he did yesterday this is how it would go.
From our conversation:
Him: you wouldn't have [eaten] anything on that list, huh?
Me: um, i'd pick the grilled chicken out of the pasta and wipe the sauce off with a napkin . . . then eat it.

See, it's easy!

Training the Tipsy

2007-05-28T23:56:00.000-05:00

I have had a client for the past two months that really never wanted training. He was, as he stated in several text messages, more interested in watching me in what he calls my "sexy shorts" than he is in working out. Throughout this whole ordeal I kept it all about business and I kept pushing him and ignoring him when he said, "ow", "enough", "zat's et" (he has an accent). I was convinced I could show him that he needed me if he ever wanted to work out in really meaningful and productive ways.

The sessions were tortuous for me. It wasn't the fact that I knew he was just going through the motions, it was the fact that I would be certain to get a text from him after the session something like this one that I got after a recent session: "Why u r so fcking cute?? Ajjj.." Granted, the boy says NOTHING of the sort during the workout, he simply complains about pretty much every single thing we do. Essentially he seems annoyed that we spend the hour working out.

All this sets the context for what happened during his last session. The original appointment was scheduled for Saturday afternoon, but he canceled and rescheduled it for Sunday instead. Fine, I had no pressing plans. I get to the gym and wait for him, and wait, and wait. I check my phone - he's running 10 minutes late - but he it has already been 15 minutes. By 4:30 (a half an hour after we were supposed to start) he strolls in wearing his popped collar, pink, perky, polo shirt. He apologized and told me that it was because - he just left brunch.

Brunch in the afternoon almost always means some booze-ination went down. "Brunch, eh? You're sure you're ready to work out already?" I asked. He smiled and said he was. Noticing that he was in a semi-daze, I asked him if he had anything to drink at brunch. "Yeah, mimosa, mimosa, mimosas!" he said, each word getting a little bit louder and more animated. "MimosaS?" I asked.

His brunch came with three free mimosas but since he was friends with the bartender he had two more. That's five in case you lost count. So not only did he take in about 140 calories for each mimosa (700 calories!), he was nearing, if not well beyond categorical drunkedness.

I already had to wait a half an hour for this guy, and he's usually a pain to work with so I had prepared the studio with a nice round of torture. I had begun planning this nonstop circuit of exercises as I waited impatiently for him. Now that he was finally at the gym, I was eager to get his tipsy ass in gear.

For a brief second I thought, maybe I should just send him home - it's probably not safe for him to work out. I guess my professional side kicked in - but then I kicked it right back away - he had already made me wait around for nearly 40 minutes before we got started and that is time for which I do not get paid. If people like Lindsay Lohan can sometimes operate motor vehicles under the influence of coke and sustain only minor injuries, this boy would be fine for a good ass-kicking using dumbells.

The session was a set of circuits that I had arranged in a semi-private studio. The lights were dim and the music was loud, I was having him work out in the best version of a bar I could create. I wanted his last session to be memorable and his being very tipsy inspired me to create an environment that suited the drunk theme - the club atmosphere made it that much more fun.

I was a little nervous when I had him going up and down on the step, he was very wobbly, and had a real tough time keeping up with my tempo. I kept telling him to move faster and he kept getting slower. He got dizzy during crunches and opted instead to just lay down and breathe for a minute. By the time he was doing push-ups on the Bosu ball he was pretty much a mess, but I have to say - he did survive it better than I expected. He only complained one time the entire hour - during a set of lateral shoulder raises with bodybars during which he uttered, "uhhh, uhhh" with every rep.

For the most part he was pretty silent and extremely sweaty. He was still in a daze but I think we successfully got all of the mimosa out of him. I was glad he managed to be quite active without throwing up, which, by the way, was my greatest concern. Once when he paused, put his hand to his mouth and looked down, I thought to myself, crap - who would have to clean that up? Me? No, no way, no how. Him? That'd be wierd. The housekeeping staff? No, they don't clean up things they can't potentially swipe. I decided that if his regurgitated force of nature were to come upon us, I'd send him home and I would close the door and sneak away quietly.

Luckily for everyone he never threw up - we headed up to the front of the gym to sign for the session and shared our last awkward moment of small talk - about how we avoided the stability ball (he was already unstable enough on his own today). I said, "yeah I crossed the balls off," referring to his chart. He laughed and said, "my balls off"? I laughed, closed the book and told him I had to get going. I was walking to the train when I got this text, "But at the end i cant suck ur balls off. . . and I am so sad for that . . ."

I don't get paid enough to do this job.

Seamen Everywhere

2007-05-23T23:28:00.000-05:00

More than Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and my birthday combined there is a special time of year that gets me excited. It's a time when the streets are filled with hot, freshly buzzed, cocky, drunk boys fresh from the sea - and here in New York we call this special holiday Fleet Week. It is a Navy event, but since I am not much into guys who wear all white - I love the week for the Marines who come out in full force as well.

Sigh.

I had been counting down the days to Fleet Week - each time I get off the train to go to work at the gym I see the MTA poster announcing it and it would give me a little pep in my step. Memories of seeing all the uniforms and wide-eyed, eager-to-please, tipsy boys on 14th street last year in Chelsea come rushing back. Marines in Chelsea - now that porn sort of writes itself and I am first in line to guest star in the opening scene.

Tonight I had a session at the gym with one of my regulars. He had some scheduling issues over the past few weeks and a vacation before that so we needed to re-vamp our momentum to get cookin' on his goal of a Memorial Day swimsuit debut. With only 5 days to work with I had to act fast. It was a great session -- he was a somewhat shaky, severely sweaty, and still smiling - just how I like my clients to be at the end of the session.

I ended up walking with my client because he lives on the way to the train I was taking to go workout. I bid him farewell with a cheerful, "Happy Fleet Week" and then hoped on the train. I hit up Better Burger for a bunless chicken burger. Sitting in the window looking at all of the relative cuteness, I almost decided to work out in gay mecca but my better judgment kicked in (who can concentrate on a good work out with hot boys in the room?) and I headed back up to the UWS.

A great workout - not too crowded, caught the Idol finale while warming up - and by the end my body was sufficiently beaten into a self-tortured pulp. I went to the locker room, saw the skeevy crowd (this location is notoriously un-cute at night), and opted out of the shower in order to escape an attack by a towel snatching senior citizen (I have seen this happen).

So, all of these decisions were out of the norm for me - switching two trains just to go work out, not showering after the workout, stopping by Chelsea just for some random protein. This, my friends, is how fate works. This night turned out to be timed perfectly.

I run down into the 79th street station and cannot believe my eyes.

Yes. Marines, a gaggle of them standing on the opposite platform. Ok, maybe not a gaggle but there were 8 of them and still - 8 is enough for me. Heck, I would have taken the one incredibly cute dark-haired one who was swaying back and forth in his drunken stupor. I devised a plan - separate him from the pack, attack while he's weak, nurse him back to health and keep him in my bed for a few hours.

I was a little disappointed in the guys however - as I often am when I see a random Marine walking around. I guess I'm into the idea, or the uniform - well definitely the haircut, but this group had just 1 cute one, and 2 so-so ones. That means there were 5 not so cute ones. They were soft around the middle - Marines are not supposed to be soft - they are supposed to be hard.

The sight of the guys really got my Fleet Week spirit pumping. I can't wait for more . . . here's to a great week with seamen all over the place.

Rubbin' One Out

2007-05-21T11:12:00.000-05:00

To commemorate the end of a really long and laborious, yet mostly meaningless semester, I got my first massage. Yes, my first massage in 30 years. I was partially interested in the idea after reading about Cooper's massage at the end of his semester. However, mine wasn't nearly as exciting, but it sure did the trick.

It was at this place in Noho, a tiny little hole-in-the-wall, that still managed to not seem creepy. It is run by a group of Thai women who waste no time getting you onto the table from the second you walk in the door. There are no separate rooms, just a series of five low partitions and some bamboo blinds. The lights were low, faint music was playing, and there was a faint smell of incense burning.

Since I had never done this before, I had gotten some advice and or "warnings" about what to expect. There I was standing next to the table. Nobody said, take off your clothes. I had this quick fear that I would get naked and then she'd come back with some paperwork for me to fill out or something. I am more used to people taking off my clothes for me in a fit of passion - but for this occasion I decided that I didn't need somebody to pull my pants down and I proceeded.

I got to the underwear, leave them on, take them off? I didn't know what to do. Given the fact that there was a wide open view and the potential for people to see how amazing these underwear look, I decided to keep them on. These are the absolute best pair of underwear I own. They were a brand new pair of Diesel briefs and on the back they say "Only the brave." Haha, perfect!

I am laying on my stomach, ass in the air. A woman comes in and starts right away with some long sweeping motions. I don't know why, but I was really nervous about this. I had no idea of what she intended to do. In no time, I relented and just laid limp letting her move me around as needed.

The woman pushed and dug into me real hard. Since I have been working out pretty intensely lately my body was screaming. Massage really is something people who lift weights are supposed to do - it's a part of the whole package. When we work out and put tiny tears into our muscle tissue, it doesn't repair smoothly. In order to get the best results you have to rub it out. My new woman friend had found two wicked knots in my back and she was not leaving until they were gone. At one point I thought I was going to pass out.

But I liked it.

Once she moved on from my upper back I sighed with relief. She moved some towels around and the yanked my underwear down. Ooooh. She tucked a towel into the top of my underwear and the whole time I was hoping, "did she leave it so the cute waistband was still showing?" She climbed up on to the table and straddled me more than once. But the last time she did it she was squeezing her thighs into me and pushing down into my ass. Sheesh. I hate to say it but that was really, really exciting. It's not fair that she was pressing me into the table like that. My mind started to wander. I mean, I am only human. I don't even like girls - but when somebody is straddling you - and you're face down - it's easy to pretend that it's anybody you want it to be - even Ryan Phillipe.

So I kept trying to focus on other things. I developed an emergency plan in case she asked me to roll over at that moment. I decided that I would pretend to fall to the floor - and the commotion that would ensue would certainly relieve any excitement. Thankfully, she had more work to do with my hamstrings, and calves.

Once I relaxed into the idea of a woman rubbing me with oil all over my body I started thinking that I wanted to suggest parts on which to focus. However, not a single word was spoken between the two of us the entire hour. But, based on what she did to my back side I was really revved up for a nice rub down of my chest, biceps, quads, and feet. Sigh. She flipped me over, rubbed my head (which was real nice) and then moved down to my feet. What? She skipped my chest? My aching, sore, needing-a-rub chest!? I wanted it badly but the magic she did with my feet made it all ok.

I have been known to say that I would rather have a foot rub than anything else. That includes any sort of sordid lovemaking or variation therein. The key to my hotspot is in a good footrub. I was in pure heaven. She was squeezing and rubbing and bending each one with sheer perfection. I was really in a state of euphoria. Then, she tapped the top of my feet, murmurred something and walked away.

We're done?! Just like that? It's over? I opened my eyes and saw the clock. It had been just over an hour since I arrived. Crap. That was fast. Now I know how straight women feel when a guy is making them feel really good and then they just up and leave and/or roll over and fall asleep. I remained on the table for a good minute just being still before I got dressed and paid the woman 50 bucks. Yes, people, 42 bucks for an hour massage - in New York.

I kept thinking that she should be making more money for all this work. People pay double for training, and what she is doing feels a whole hell of a lot better.

Like I said before, everybody needs to be aware of what the muscle tissue in their body is doing. Granted, you don't have to get a massage to do this. There are so many ways to self-massage, and g-rated uses of the sauna, steamroom to help in the effort. What I use, and what I encourage my clients to use is something called Self-Myofascial Release (SMR). The word "release" in the context of massage is usually something more thrilling - in this case I'm talking about using a foam roller.

You've probably seen these at the gym and wondered what they are for. It's worth asking a trainer to show you how to use them. If they don't know how to use them, or don't think they are an important and valuable part of fitness - they shouldn't be working and you should run away screaming. In a nutshell, these foam rollers provide a deep-tissue massage - for free! They help work on muscle tension relationships (when your posture is messed up - even in ways you don't at first realize), and on general tightness in muscles. It is a great way to warm up for a workout.

On days you run, you want to SMR your calves and hamstrings. When you're doing squats you want to SMR your legs and your lower back. When you want to feel really great and do better crunches so you can have hotter abs - you SMR your upper and lower back - it is pure pleasure. It is best to show you how to do this in real life - so New Yorkers let me know and I'll hook you up - but essentially you apply your own body weight into the roll and you, well, you roll.

You can read more about it here or you can go ahead and buy one here. This document is a hugely comprehensive guide to how to use it once you get it. It's the kind of toy that will make you feel good - just like that one hiding under your bed you sicko perv.

Supplementing Your Supple Body's Needs

2007-05-14T23:20:00.000-05:00

It was entirely coincidental that David commented on my last post that he was curious about my take on supplements. Earlier in the day I was thinking about posting my recipe for the tasty smoothie I was about to enjoy, and it contains supplemental protein powder. That's about as far as I get these days in terms of supplementation. Essentially, I'm a purist who dabbles in a bit of extra protein now and then.

I am very likely in the minority on this topic as most gym-bound guys are as much into lifting pills, powders, and protein drinks as they are into weights. It's true that there are a lot of good supplements out there but it's also true that "real food" can provide a lot of, if not all, that you need to build muscle and increase energy. The thing a lot of people forget is that supplements are meant to be "supplemental" and not the main part of a diet.

I stopped using energy inducing supplements because I got on the Ripped Fuel band wagon before they went ephedra-free. This was when I first started the Body for Life plan (which, by the way - totally changed my life forever). I was enamored with the packaging, who doesn't want to be ripped?! Leaner, meaner, stronger, faster, better. Who could say no to that!? I loved the rush they gave me - it was like a really hardcore venti quad Americano from Starbucks times ten for me. However, if I took them at any time other than before an intense workout I was a crazy, irritable maniac on speed.

Recently I tried the nitric oxide inducers (like NO-Xplode, NO-S Extreme Lean, etc.) but I found it led to little to no improvements in my performance. If you have a strong cardio plan - your L-arganine recruitment is probably at optimum levels so these things really just provide excess that is wasted. I like just having a good bout of caffeine or sugar-free Red Bull before a long workout, and LOTS of water.

I never got into Creatine because if you're not working seriously to BUILD larger muscles it can easily become a huge cess pool of fatty mass of yuck. I just never had that as a goal for myself or for the guys with whom I want to make out. For me, and the boys I like - it's lean, mean, figthin' machines with good chests, nice arms, hot calves, and a taut, hot ass. Veins that show just a little bit, and tattoos, well then you got me wickedly excited.

That all being said, I am a huge fan of protein powders - they are a convenient source for supplementing your daily diet with some extra needed protein, and other essential nutrients and BCAA (amino acid packs of fun). The powders are quick, easy, and there is enough competition out there that the taste keeps on improving. I was a Myoplex boy for a long time, getting hooked on it through Body for Life, but then I got turned on to Isopure because it's carb-free, more pure (literally), and packs in a little more protein. Yum. However for all you New Yorkers, Juice Generation offers up a Shazaam! for a hefty $7.55 that includes a Myoplex packet, rasperries, and water. You can switch it up to use blueberries too but I don't like how that one tastes.

Yeah, Myoplex has some carbs and a few grams of fat - but the nutrients it provides allow it to serve as a healthy meal replacement. I'm into that because I like efficiency. Then again, when I first felt like I was getting into great shape - I was eating six chicken breast a day. If you're that desperate for optimum proteins, egg whites are the very top of the list.

All in all - supplementation is something worth investigating (that link is a comprehensive site that provides information and reviews on nearly all supplements). Furthermore, I strongly urge people to educate themselves about what goes into their body. Google is your friend, so use it like you bastards use all of your friends. Haha, ok that was a bad joke - but for some of you it's probably true. If you're a serious hardcore bodybuilder you're probably going to have to look into supplements but there are better options out there and always, always, start gradually. When in doubt, don't put it in your mouth guys. And that, my friends, is an important safety message that you should carry with you to the bars, and your bedrooms.

My Smoothie of the Moment: The Razz-PiZazz-a-Berry Banger

• Get a sturdy blender.
• Add 8 oz. of lite orange juice (with added calcium too)
• Add a handfull of frozen or fresh raspberries (I like frozen because it makes the drink frosty)
• Add 4-5 frozen or fresh strawberries
• Mix in 1.5 scoops of whey protein powder (I use EAS Vanilla Whey - with BCAA enhancement)
• Add 3-4 icecubes.
• Hit the liquefy button and watch the magic happen.

Once it is swirling down like a flushed toilet, it's ready to drink. In all liklihood it is going to grow into a creamy delight. It has around 300 calories so be prepared to work some of that off right away. This is a pre-workout smoothie. It has about 35 grams of protein and it seriously tastes amazing. Raspberries are a superfood so eat them with delight. You can use regular whey protein, but the Vanilla flavor gives this drink a "creamsicle" effect. Enjoy!

You Picked Him, I Sure Didn't

2007-05-14T17:00:00.000-05:00

Based on the last poll, if the readers of this blog were to amble into a locker room, they'd most want to see Ryan Seacrest in a towel. He got the most votes (42%) to Chris Richardson (35%) who was my top choice, and our portly but cute Blake Lewis was third (23%). Thankfully, absolutely nobody wanted to see Simon Cowell, Sanjaya Malakar, or Randy Jackson in a towel.

Hmm, the only problem with your choice is that Ryan would be that guy in the locker room who never shuts up. Sure, he'd be in a towel, but he'd ask annoying and meaningless questions. But, perhaps we're on to something here - shower idol! Hmm . . . that gives me an idea - look for Shower Idol coming soon to a Blog near you.

In the meantime, take the new poll - it's on the right.

Hot Mama

2007-05-13T16:21:00.000-05:00

I am a mama's boy.

That's easy to be when your mom is as amazing as my mom. There isn't a person I have ever met, or even one that I've seen on TV for that matter, who compares to her level of creativity, resourcefulness, and pure genius. On top of all of that - she is a really, really, really pretty woman. In elementary school I used to always love it when my mom would come to the school because she was so much prettier than everybody else's mom. I guess it helps that she was probably a good 10 years younger than most of the other moms, but still - she has an amazingly beautiful quality about her.

Given that, I was a little concerned with a phone conversation she and I had today. It was supposed to be one of those "Happy Mother's Day!" kind of calls where I tell her how much I love her and how she is the best mom in the universe, etc. Instead, we ended up talking about dieting and exercise for over an hour.

She starts out by saying that she is giving up her diet. I didn't know she was even on a diet. I did know that she was trying some new 7 minute workout where you isolate and contract certain muscles for 25 seconds at a time but I passed that off as another one of her new age voodoo fads. So, the trainer in me kicked in and I started probing a little.

"How long have you been on this diet?" I asked.

"Over a week, and I still haven't lost anything, not even a pound."

So for most readers the sheer absurdity is easily to spot. Almost nothing happens in a week, and on top of all of that since when do we measure progress by a single pound - a pound that we can maintain or release simply by choosing or not choosing to pee.

Regardless, this was her reality. In her mind, she is changing how she eats. That isn't easy for anyone to do. For some people, and I'm including my own mom in this, the changes they are making seem a lot bigger than they actually are. She was angry and upset because she felt she had "done something" but "lost nothing" in a week.

I knew she never had good eating habits in terms of scheduling regular meals. Even when I was little sometimes dinner would be as late as 10 p.m. As our conversation continued I realize that she's still eating only twice a day, once early in the morning and again late at night. So while she thinks she's doing something positive by eating less (and better food with the "diet"), she's really doing more harm than good.

Your body needs food to operate properly. Food is energy. When your body senses that you're either very irregular about providing it with needed energy or likely to leave large gaps of time between meals -- it reacts by holding on to every bit of what it has. Your body will store fat because it provide the "emergency" energy it may need in the event of a severe loss of food supply. Some of our ancestors needed this for when say, the White men came along and killed off the entire Bison population. Anyway, your body is likely only to release it when it knows that you'll be providing it with a nice regular supply of good energy.

The same basic philosophy applies to working out - your body needs to be convinced that resistance is futile and that you're going to keep on burning off the calories until it releases a pound of fat. For those of you don't know, it takes a net loss of 3,500 calories to slop off a pound of fat. That's 500 a day for a week that you need to burn off in addition to what you regularly burn. So . . . the equation is: eat less, move more. However if you aren't eating throughout the day something consisting of a "good" carb and some protein you are messing up the equation because without proper nutrition you'll have a lot less energy and retain a lot more water which means in all likelihood you'll be moving a lot less and getting fatter by the second. Yikes!

So, my advice to my mom was to stick with her plan but not to evaluate her success on a pound, instead on how well she sticks to the plan (which consists of eating 3 small meals and 3 snacks throughout the day). She is going to do this for 4 weeks and I am going to try to call her as often as possible to remind her. We came up with some solutions like George Foreman-ing a bunch of marinated chicken and putting them with some brown rice in individual dishes. We are also focusing on getting her moving for 30 minutes a day.

It really made me sad to hear her so upset about her weight. I can remember her feeling this way at many points in the past, she's tried so many diets and even hypnosis. The problem is that results don't come fast enough - but they never do, for anyone. I love my mom and I want her to love herself as much as I love her. I asked her when the last time was that she felt good in her body. She said 1976. That's 30 years ago - you're not going to reverse 30 years in just over a week, but that can be the first step in that direction. It's all about consistency people - no matter what you decide you're going to do at the gym, or involving your food intake - make the decision and commit to it for at least a month. Don't step on a scale, wear your baggiest clothes and just focus on whatever it is you decided to do (work out 5 times a week, eat only whole grains, no more soda, etc.).

A lot of people can make the decision, but can't stick with it. It's like they know what they should be doing but "life" gets in the way - especially exercise. At some point you have to put your own health at the top of the priority list. Like I told my mom, her customers are still going to get the photos she's working on - they won't have a panic attack if it's 30 minutes later, the shop won't close down if she puts a sign on the door saying "back in a half an hour." It's one step and one day at a time but the first step needs to be moving your physical and mental health to the top of your list priorities.

Really now, what good is anything (the perfect job, boyfriend, car, cute underwear) if you don't feel good in your own skin?

So happy Mother's Day to moms everywhere and those who love them.

Liftin' without the 'Pod

2007-05-11T00:20:00.000-05:00

When I'm at the gym, Ivan II is my workout buddy. He's a sleek 30 gigabyte piece of Apple perfection. His predecessor, Ivan I, got ripped off out of my locker at the gym last year. It was an inside job. The "housekeeper" who chills in the locker room was one of two other guys at the gym (it was 3 a.m. after all), and he was the only person in the locker room when I took Ivan off and rolled him up into my jeans. I stupidly forgot a lock. I thought the fact that I take 2 minute showers and that the gym was empty made it safe. I was wrong. When I came back to my locker, Ivan was gone.

Having worked with housekeepers at my own gym. I have no doubt they are a shady bunch. So I urge you all to buy good locks. Also, heed the warnings on the signs that say "Locks will be removed daily," because when they feel like it - they'll clip the crap out of all the locks and loot the booty inside the lockers.

On the night of the iPod heist, I got out of the shower, headed to my locker and realized Ivan was missing. I checked and rechecked every square inch of the locker. His case was gone, earbuds and all - stolen away. I was enraged. The front desk guy said to me "nobody turned anything in." No kidding, dickwad. He also told me that a lot of people had been coming in and out. "In the past 5 minutes?" I asked. "Yeah. People are always coming through." How amazing that they knew exactly which of the 100 or so lockers had an iPod rolled up into jeans.

Ivan was gone for good.

I hate that housekeeper. To retaliate I started taking a few towels every single time I went, and I dumped out the bodywash in the shower on more than one occasion just to make the lazy housekeeper do more work. I stopped putting towels in the bins because I wanted him to have to do it.

Soon after the Podsnatching, a rich guy that I met and dated for 2 seconds bought me Ivan II. It's always handy to meet a rich guy who likes to show off his ability to fly you places and buy you gadgets.

Anyway, last night I was in such a rush to get from school to the gym to meet up with my clients that I forgot Ivan II at home. This was going to be a podless workout and I couldn't recall a time in recent history that I had to workout without music. I have my Podrunner podcasts for my cardio, I and I have my special "Gym-N-E-Mix-It" playlist that keeps me so wound up it isn't even funny. Working out in the evenings, I need the music to keep me pushing hard the entire time so I was dreading what it would be like to workout without the "don't talk to me because I have earbuds in" veil of privacy.

Turns out, I really do hate working out without my music to keep me bouncing around and to keep from overhearing annoying gym conversations. To top it all off, I saw a hetero kiss on the gym floor!! If you're keeping track, that's 2 gay kisses (one of which bordered on "making out") and 1 straight kiss in the past few weeks. The couple made me nauseous, with him touching her ass and grunting through his sets the whole time. I heard a woman tell her friend that her dentist rests his arms on her boobs (and that she doesn't mind at all because he's cute), and I heard a guy talking on his cell phone while he worked out -- phone in one hand, dumbell in the other doing lazy bicep curls.

So in honor of good gym music I am listing some of my favorite gym pieces for you to download from a free source, or from iTunes. They are all somewhat older songs because I dont' think you should have to concentrate on new music while you're working out.

1. Adema: The Way You Like It. This song pumps me up more than any other song - it's sexy, it's hardcore. A rougher Linkin Park knock-off with a catchy chorus that will hook you hard.
2. Cake: Going the Distance. It was made for the gym, you can totally get into the message, "driving and striving as fast as he can . . . he's going the distance," Plus, the Howard Dean-esque "Yahh!" at 1:08 makes it all worth it.
3. Dangerous Muse: The Rejection. Of course a modern gay anthem has to be on the list. This is a catchy, chill, fast-talking song that will keep you bopping around. "How could you not want me, I'm hot."
4. Pat Benetar: Love is Battlefield. This song needs a remake, or at least a rebirth - it is way, way, way too good to be forgotten and it's gym friendly, "We are strong . . ." Get out your neon colors and hairspray people.
5. Kelly Clarkson/Chris Cox Remix: Walk Away. This could be in the #1 spot as it's one of my absolute favorite remixes. It makes an already decent song extra decent.
6. Kate Bush: Jig of Life. Pure adredenaline. Clearly the most "out there" of any other on the list, but this song with move you - the music is genius, the lyrics are . . . well, just ignore them . . . they're neat but they make Tori Amos seem rational.
7. Breaking Laces: God in Training. This is a group that has yet to "hit big" but I love this song. It's fun to listen to at the gym, when you're training your body.
8. Beyonce: Work It Out. Also made for working out, or at least working "it" out. You'll be shakin' your bootyliciousness all around the gym. It's also a perfectly chill tempo for curls or crunches.
9. Justin Timberlake: SexyBack(Dirty). Sigh. This shouldn't be on the list simply because we've had enough of it but in terms of getting you pumped out about pumping it up - it works. Plus, he's cute so it's ok.
10. Maroon 5: Shiver. I love Adam Levine so he has to be on the list - it's my personal gym favorite from the cute maroon boys. This one, or the Kanye West remix of This love will make you a tougher, leaner, meaner, gym god.

Special Requests

2007-05-09T00:45:00.000-05:00

When I first meet a client we spend a lot of time talking about their history, lifestyle, and most certainly, their goals. Aside from the usual "lose weight, build muscle" mantra, I sometimes get some special requests. One woman prefers only to work out in a studio at the gym, in private. That's reasonable, and in fact -- it's desirable. Another guy hired me so that he could meet girls. He literally wanted me to strategically place him in the gym near girls during our workout. In my notes from our initial meeting it wrote, "wants to date women at the gym," and underlined it several times.

Some others come wanting a very specific type of workout. Since it is truly their hour, if it's within a safe context and will help them toward their goal, I am pretty much open to special requests. Boxing, yoga, pilates, sure -- I'm game.

However, I have never gotten this type of request that I found on Craigslist today:

Personal trainer (military) wanted - m4m - 40 (SoHo)
I am looking for a personal trainer who has an Army or USMC background. GWM only. I want to be put through a butt naked boot camp drill.

I work at a gym in that neighborhood. Now I am trying to go through my mental list I see working out. Who could be craving this? You never can tell the kinky ones. It's always the quiet, shy ones that want to get orders barked at them. Does this guy want to be naked, or does he want the trainer to be naked too?

Either way, for the right price, and for the right guy - I'd probably do it.

Your Buddy, He's Changing

2007-05-08T12:41:00.000-05:00

I don't have a lot of time to devote to an insightful post or some new fitness tips until the end of the semester so I thought I'd pop in a little story from the locker room that had me laughing for quite a while. If you're a new reader this would be a good day to go through some of the older posts because it makes me sad to think they might feel neglected. Oh, while you're at it - take the poll.

Last night I was getting changed and I overheard the most notorious locker room stalker of 94th street make a remark to a younger guy while he was getting dressed.

"Your buddy, he's changing," he said.

The younger guy looked very confused. "Who?"

"You, your buddy," he said again with what seems to be a French accent.

"Me, my buddy?" the younger guy said with his eyebrows furrowed into his eye sockets.

"No, your bah-dee, eees changing" the gross, towel-clad stalker replied as he rubbed his belly with one hand and pointed at the younger guy with the other.

The younger guy was really getting nervous, he had a nearly naked man telling him his body was changing.

"I've noticed how much is changed lately," the stalker says, pauses and adds into the already awkward silence, "but don't worry I'm not hitting on you."

At this point, I was laughing to myself. I have seen the stalker standing between the showers just waiting for his victims. He has no shame when going in for the attack. This younger guy had no idea.

"Thanks," the guy with the changing body said, "but no thanks."

He grabbed his bag and walked out, looking around to see who noticed this big gay pick up. The stalker rolled his eyes, hands on his hips and swished back into the shower area looking for his next victim.

It was fun to watch this pick up get lost in translation. The guy was so confused wondering who his buddy was, and where he was changing that he ended up having a quasi-conversation -- one that was longer enough to allow the stalker to rub his own belly with glee. The younger guy was in sheer panic that this dude in a towel was making conversation but all in all, he handled it like a champ and maybe his body is changing. Leave it to the horny guy to point it out.

Boys Behaving Badly

2007-05-06T02:26:00.000-05:00

School has been kicking my ass pretty royally lately. Therefore, I haven't been working at the gym meeting new members (and showing them how much they need me) as much as I need to be. I am in the final stretches of the semester however and I seriously cannot wait for the end.

No matter how busy I get with school - nothing comes between me and going to the gym to work out. The only thing that sucks is that I end up having to go to one of the clubs in my hetero-centric (by New York standards that's still pretty freakin gay) area. The gyms are fine but the people who go there are not as fun to look at.

So thankfully for you, my curious reader, I am able to keep track of the sordid happenings, and tonight was no exception. In fact, I was shocked at how the story seemed to be writing itself. I had just popped in to the gym for a nice cardio session, never even considering something as wild as what ended up happening would happen.

I get to the gym, headed to the locker room and to the same locker I always use. There is a latin guy, we're going to call him Jose to make things easy. He was the first of a train of guys that filtered out of the shower/steam area. His locker was near mine and his eyes were on my . . . The thing was, he wasn't shy about it. As per usual, I pretended not to notice. I put my bag away, pull off my jeans and stand there in my underwear digging for my shorts.

Meanwhile, the four other guys who followed Jose out of the shower area are dispersed in the locker room but nobody is getting dressed. I feel like I walked onto a movie set - a cheap 1980s porn set replete with the required overly tan bodies and the one guy with a strange mustache. I recognize 2 of the guys from when I used to frequent this gym. I have never seen either of them work out, EVER, but I have seen them in the locker room at least hundreds of times. They are both overweight middle-aged guys. That's no problem for me, it just helps set the context.

The guys are all standing around looking at each other, I'm putting on my sneakers and Jose is now putting on some light purple boxer shorts. I am dismayed by his poor choice in underwear. Alas, 2 of the other guys are now tucked away in small nook in the lockerroom. They seem like a couple, or like two really friendly guys.

As I am walking out - I see the guy from the other gym who was kissing the other guy. Whoa. I pretty much slowed down to the point where I was emulating the special effects from the Matrix. Why was he way up here at this gym? Does he live up here too? Is he joining in on the locker room fun?

I went upstairs and had a good hour of getting entirely sweaty. On several occasions I saw the Kisser, but he was busy looking in the mirror and lifting up his shirt. The tension between the two of us was obvious and since there was literally nobody else worth paying attention to in the gym we both took turns trying to out-sexy each other while remaining oh so disinterested in the other person.

So . . . I go back to the locker room - it's been an entire hour and the same people are still in the locker room, still in towels, still with grins and semi hard-ons pokin behind the terry cloth. Just for the sake of illustrating how crazy this was, Jose was there and he was still pretending to put on the same pair of boxers.

There was sex in the air - and everybody was breathing it in. I was definitely a cooling effect on the quasi-orgy because my face made it clear that I was somewhat disgusted. If you're going to take a locker room fantasy and make it real - you had damn well better be hot. Geez. The guys went from the water fountain to the shower to the steamroom like they were on a lazy susan. Nobody said a word. Then again, nobody ever does when this is going down.

I peel of my soaking wet shirt, shorts, socks and wrap a towel around my waist. I had no choice but to take a shower. Sad to say that it was an uneventful shower that lasted for no longer than 2 minutes. Back at my locker, Jose was sitting on the bench in such a way that I had to reach over him wearing just my towel. Only after I yanked my bag out of the locker and onto the floor did he move to the side.

By this time, Kisser had come back into the locker room. He was the only person worth paying attention to - but the whole scene was beyond my limit of sketchiness allowance. The gym was closing in less than 10 minutes and there were three guys presumably having an orgy in the steamroom. Part of me wanted to stick around to see the housekeeper break it up - but then I just figured he'd become part of the action - that's how it always happens in gay porn: the housekeeper becomes the sex slave, the gardener is actually a ho, you get the idea.

I wore cute underwear tonight - which is something I purposely do when I go to the gym. I wondered if this was misleading. It was obvious that I took time to select a good pair. Did these guys think I chose them as a signal for "hey, I want some action"? I think Jose answered that affirmatively, because, as I put on my jeans he said,
"That's some buckle you have there," pointing to my belt.
"Yeah, it can be used as a weapon if necessary," I replied.
He laughed as though I was kidding.
"Or a shield too," I added.
Clearly the imagery I was sending his way was one that indicated something along the lines of get the hell away from me you freak, but he wasn't phased. I am standing there in jeans and sneakers, digging for my shirt and he bends down to get a closer look.
"Is that 69 on there?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes and pointed out it was actually the number 63, 1963 because it's a Ben Sherman belt. That invited more questions about who Ben Sherman was and if I knew that the gap often had shirts with 69 on them.

Wow. This was a really pathetic attempt for him to figure me out. He wanted me to say,
"69? Sure, I'll 69, let's go hit the steam room and you can take off your light purple boxers again!"

What bothered me even more was that the Kisser was there. Did he think I wanted to be talking to Jose? I didn't have time to worry about it - I wanted to get away as fast as possible. I took a moment to get a last glimpse at the kisser's really nice arms and headed on up to the street.

This whole scene would have definitely freaked a lot of people out - especially the wives and/or girlfriends of these guys. I can't believe that these are out gay men doing this - there is just no way. There were no standards in mate selection, and there was bad wardrobe choices, both violations of the gay code. So, here we have boys behaving badly - living out their pre-pubescent fantasies from the high school locker room 30 years after the fact.

Motivation

2007-05-02T17:14:00.000-05:00

Some people hire trainers because they genuinely need help developing a well-suited, results-based, interesting, and effective program. More commonly, however, I find people hire me because they lack serious motivation. They know the basics, they're generally happy with their fitness level - but they can't seem to find the time/energy/reasons to get to the gym unless they make that appointment and financial commitment to have somebody breathing down their neck either literally or figuratively. Same goes for the people who can't seem to generate enough chutzpah to get up the last rep on a tough set. The mere presence of somebody you're accountable to helps you find that last bit of an ounce of oomph to get it up one more time.

People are motivated both by fear (I don't want to get fat, I don't want to be the last kid picked in dodgeball, I don't want a jiggly ass, etc.) or they are motivated by desire (I want abs like that guy, I want to feel stronger, I want to look good naked - even in flourescent lighting).

So I am sitting here in the middle of (one of) New York's gay meccas sipping on an iced venti unsweetened green tea. I'm avoiding doing work for school and instead I'm staring out the window. So many hot guys are out on the street today. The warmer weather really brings out the boys -- and in this hood, with at least three major gyms within a 3 block radius you get to see a lot of nice shoulders, arms, and legs. Ok ok, so you see a lot of people that you wish would go home and put on a snowsuit and/or walk around the back of the building - but still the good ones are worth waiting for the not-so-good ones to walk on by for sure.

Right now, walking by we have a dark-haired, medium-muscular guy in light blue mesh gym shorts, a sleeveless navy shirt, and blue nike shox. Now this, this is what I call motivation.

I never feel ugly until I sit at a Starbucks in a good old-fashioned, homespun gayborhood. How many cute guys can there really be wearing gym shorts and cute sneakers? You'd be surprised. How many well-filled tank tops or t-shirt sleeves pulled tight by awesome biceps can you see on any given afternoon? A lot. This is the kind of thing that gets me all riled up. When I'm working out I just keep my mind on the material, superficial, shallow pressure of life in gay New York. That's always good for getting me to do at least one more heavy set and another half hour of cardio.

Does this mean I'm just part of the aforementioned soul-less, shallow, superficial, body-obsessed gay clan? I don't think so, and I surely hope not. However I do remember being confused one birthday when my friend Michael gave me a copy of The Adonis Complex. Yet still, I refuse to believe I've sunk to that point.

For me it's all in good fun. I like working out, a lot. And yes, I do like eating celery more than I like eating chocolate. But the gym, and sweating -- that's what I do when I want to relax and that's the single best way for me to get out of a funk, in the mood for "love", and able to think clearly. Do I like the cosmetic results - I sure do, but only because I like to see progress. That's why it's fun to work with other people who have a goal in mind. The before and after pictures are an amazing artifact. The rest of the superficial crap is just a game - and who likes to lose at games? I don't. I lived my whole childhood with an overly competitive brother who kept Monopoly money hidden in his wallet so he could later use it to win the game.

Also, it's fun to have control over something. So much of my life feels dictated by other people: professors, bosses, parents, clients - but my body - that's something I get to play with and change. I like that.

That's why I was really brought back to reality recently by a comment made by "anonymous" to an earlier post. He said:

Gym? What's a gym?
I'm neither your first shower stall exhibitionist nor a locker room predator. I haven't been in a gym since I was forced into going back in high school (more years ago than I'd like to remember). Back then, I could easily have become hooked except that I was the brunt of serious torment. I was the non-athletic, bright, scrawny geek in my small town HS class. Worse, my peers figured out I was gay long before I even knew what gay was.

And so, today, I'm a shy couch potato, admiring serious brawn from afar, wishing that just once, one of the muscled gods I so worship would take me by the hand and teach me the ropes.

I think what bothered me most was how much I could relate to what he said. I hated gym class in high school and I avoided it at all costs. There was a moment in adulthood when things changed for me but I am still sometimes plagued with the same self--doubt that I felt when I was in the lockerroom looking at the most athletic kid in the school. I wasn't like him and I never conceived that I could be. Today he's an overweight, lazy, has-been. Everybody starts somewhere, and once the motivation kicks into a high gear - the sky is the limit. I just want Anonymous and the many guys like him to know that we're all a lot more alike than we are different. I say to Anonymous -- hire a trainer, a nice, understanding, qualified one. Oh, look at that - I have an opening next week.

Never Been Kissed

2007-04-30T13:30:00.000-05:00

Friday night I was getting in my late-night workout at a midtown-ish location. The gym was sparsely occupied with maybe 10 guys in the whole (huge) facility. Nothing too distracting, just the regular crowd of meatheads with a few hard-working but sadly inefficient guys. As per my M.O. I got down to it and hit the weights hard.

While prepping for some dumbbell shoulder presses (my goal is to have the best shoulders of my life this summer) I notice a muscular, dark-haired, beefcake of a guy. He was taller than he needed to be but the sheer size of his frame and muscles made him seem nicely proportional. He actually looked like he could be a superhero. So I was sitting on the bench with the weights on my knees and I catch him looking at me in the mirror.

Hmm. What's he looking at? Is he looking at me because he wants the 55# dumbbells? Must be. I finish the set, put the weights away and head to the cable lat pull down to finish out the superset. When I come back for the next set of shoulder press the guy is sitting on my bench looking at himself in the mirror.

He looks fine, maybe I'd have confess and say that he looks good. "You need this?" he asks pointing down between his legs. Was he talking about the bench he was sitting on or was he talking about something else? Either way the answer might have been "Yes." but instead I declined and went to the bench next to him. We were now about 2 feet apart both sitting up facing the mirror. This location is huge and it seemed like we had the whole place to ourselves. He nodded at me in the mirror and I heaved the weights up to my shoulders.

Looking back on this it actually all happened really quickly. I just went on with my workout - it would take a lot to get me to slow down. I rarely ever talk at the gym while lifting.

For the next 20 minutes he played this little game with me involving angles of reflection in the mirror. Even though we weren't even near each other on the floor he was always in the mirror through a series of reflections. I would glance over at nothing and I'd see his eyes looking back at me. I felt like I was in some sort of funhouse with mirrors everywhere.

Maybe I was imagining all of this. This guy surely didn't look gay - whatever that means. He seemed way too cocky and jocky, the quintessential frat boy - and not in the abercrombie way - in the straight boy way. It's hard to explain but you'll know it when you see it. This guy most likely plays football in Central Park but doesn't care if his shorts look cute.

Alright, so his club has staircase that brings members downstairs to the weight floor that serves another purpose as a runway. If any of you are familiar with Therapy and its huge staircase - this gym feels the same way. Guys walk down the steps and instantly become the center of attention. So down walks this guy - he's young, cute, Italian, not too tall, and wearing a hat with his dark hair peeping out. Now this, this was a distraction.

In my most discreet, "I am just-doing bicep curls, don't mind me" way I followed him down the staircase. Suddenly there was a three way set of glances in play. The beefcake looked at me looking at the new guy and the new guy saw me looking at the beefcake looking at him. I pretend to be disinterested and within seconds the beefcake is walking toward this guy. Wow, he moves fast. They meet up right next to the leg press. The beefcake leans down and kisses the guy.

Whoa.

This wasn't a peck, this was a kiss. This was a kiss that had to feel good. It wasn't a make-you-wet-and-sloppy kiss - it was a nice full lipped, pause until you tingle kind of kiss. My mouth dropped open and I was mesmerized. This was seriously like the hot opening of some live action porn - right here in the gym.

I have never been kissed while in the middle of a workout at a gym. Granted, lots of kissing and debauchery has gone down while working out at home the state of the art facility I created in my old apartment - but you'd have to order the video to get the details.

So this public display of affection thing between guys seems to be sweeping NYC gyms. Twice now in as many weeks I have seen guys engaged in a nice little liplock on the gym floor.

I totally got caught looking by the beefcake - like I said, I was mesmerized by this and fascinated that this frat boy was so into the little hat-wearing cutie that he couldn't resist but to kiss him right then and there.

Both guys disappeared in no time, and I had since returned to focusing on what I was there to do. Eventually I made a pit stop to the lockerroom to take a swig of MuscleMilk and to go pee. I walked in there and wouldn't you know the cute kid was sitting on the bench right next to my locker, his frat boy boyfriend/hook up/sex slave was standing next to him in a towel. What the heck was going on here and is it worth sticking around for?

I opted to skip the locker stop altogether and head right into the restroom area - I already felt like I was invading their privacy. So I headed back to the floor - my mind wandering for a few fleeting moments. I kept imagining what was going on in the lockerroom. Then I started calculating the calories they could burn trough some good old fashioned hardcore lovemaking (at least 250 if they keep at it for 40 minutes). What a cool city that guys can feel so comfortable to show a little affection while burning a few calories.

Building Bulging Biceps

2007-04-24T13:33:00.000-05:00

So I'm enjoying the streak of uncharacteristically beautiful weather here in New York sipping down a delicious homemade whey-protein packed smoothie and with every sip I take I feel a little something in my right bicep. It's that perfect tinge of tightness and soreness that follows a great bout of hitting the weights. I love that feeling.

So why did I hit the biceps so hard yesterday? I guess it had something to do with Saturday night. After a party uptown I headed down to Barracuda with a friend from school, we'll call her Takie, and her gay boyfriend from L.A., let's call him Sonander. It was the usual packed to the max (which I like) scene of regular chill guys peppered with more than a few twinky types and the occasional freak show or two.

Soon after we arrived, a rather plain looking blond guy decides to put the moves on a beefy Canadian standing near the three of us. The conversation between the two guys was hysterical because the Canadian clearly had no interest in blondie. After the Canadian brought up the War of 1812 as an example of moments when the Canadians (then British) kicked Americans ass by burning down Washington D.C., the blond guy left. So much for friendly US/Canada relations, eh?

With the new vacancy, Sonander got excited. He was really into this guy's arms. He had a sort of lumberjack build but really wasn't packing nicely defined arms in my opinion. He did make good wardrobe choices, his shirt sleeves extra snug and extra short. Regardless, my competitive side kicked in and I couldn't believe that Mr. Mapleleaf's undefined mass of thickness (um, his arms people - get your mind out of the gutter) was getting top billing in the nice arms department.

That led me to thinking about arms and the different things people want from their own arms and the arms of the people who will be hugging them at night. Therefore, today the focus is on biceps and somewhere down the road I'll get to triceps and forearms. Here goes.

First and foremost - technique matters. Poor form during bicep exercises is one of the most frequent things I see at the gym, in fact you're more likely to see a dude doing bad bicep curls than you are to see guys cruising. Too many guys stack on weight they can't control and end up using their lower back and shoulders to heave up weight. DO NOT sacrifice technique ever - but DO push yourself. Your bicep controls movement that brings your forearm toward your shoulder; so, unless you're doing compound exercises to target larger muscles in addition to your biceps, your elbow will be stationary because it serves as the grounding point for movement. The best illustration of this point is optimum performance on the preacher curl (pictured).

The bottom line: Your form matters much much more than your ego.

Second, isolation training is not the only answer for building bigger biceps. A lot of guys come from the school of thought that concentrated, bicep-isolating exercises are the best approach. While they do target the muscle - oftentimes compound exercises actually produce better results. A compound exercise is anything that includes an additional joint motion with that of a traditional curl, such as a close grip pull down (which works the lats and the biceps) or even a row (which works the rhomboids, mid-traps, rear delts, and biceps). The reason compound exercises work are because they cause your body to send out a distress signal that then allows for anabolic hormones such as testosterone and growth hormone to be called into action.

The bottom line: Combine isolation/concentrated bicep exercises with compound exercises.

Secondly, using supersets will also stimulate growth. A superset is just a combination of back-to-back exercises with no rest in between. You can do any method of supersets (same muscle group, opposing muscles, upper body/lower body, etc.) but the one I suggest for your biceps are same muscle group supersets. For example you will go from a standing barbell curl (12 reps) directly to dumbbell hammer curls (12 reps) without resting. Follow that up with 60 seconds of rest and increase the weight slightly and repeat this time with 10 reps, and the 3rd set with slightly heavier with 8 reps. The fourth and final set should be your starting weight and back to 12 reps. This alone should give you a good tingle. Mix in a compound set at the beginning and end of the superset and you have a kick ass bicep workout that will cause all tickets to your gun show to be sold out.

The bottom line: Supersets make you feel the burn.

Finally, as with any muscle development, what you eat matters. When you eat is just as important as what you eat. If you're looking for bigger biceps, you need to feed those puppies as soon as you walk about the gym door. Load up on lean protein or a nice whey protein smoothie. No muscle, and certainly no sexy arms, can be gained through the MaryKate and Ashley Diet so grab that chicken breast and start eating.

The Bigger Bulging Bicep Builder
Try this workout as part of your normal routine (1 time through) or as a stand alone bicep building session (2 - 3 times through).
1. close-grip pull up (with assisted pull up machine if needed) 6 - 8 reps
rest up to 1 minute
2. Superset: standing barbell curl 10-12 reps, dumbbell hammer curl 10-12 reps. Complete 3 supersets - rest 1 minute between each set.
3. Close-grip lat pull down (use this handle) 10-12 reps.
rest up to 1 minute
4. Concentrated (one arm at a time) cable bicep curl 10-12 reps.
repeat, rest, then eat

Welcome to the big Show(er)

2007-04-22T23:01:00.000-05:00

Time got a way from me today and I found myself way downtown with no gym clothes at 8:22 p.m. All of the gyms close at 10 so I was feeling screwed. The MTA Gods were smiling tonight however because I managed to get home in time to grab my gear and head right back out to the nearest club. I got to the platform and the MTA Gods decided to frown and I waited, and waited, and waited. It was 9:15 before the train came to sweep me away so I got to the gym with only 37 minutes to get good and sweaty.

I scampered down the steps toward the locker room. It looked like a nuclear blast had blown every single towel into the air and they had landed all over the place. I've never seen a locker room this trashed in my entire life - and I have seen a lot of locker rooms. I tiptoed through the towels and found my little nook.

Now one thing is certain - I can get naked really fast. I had my belt off and pants undone before I set my bag down. I was out of my jeans and into my shorts within seconds. I strapped on my iPod and headed toward the bathroom area to go pee so it wouldn't dribble down my leg while I was running.

I turn the corner and see that the first shower was occupied - and that's never a good sign. That shower is placed in such a way that the person inside the shower can see into the locker area and every person who goes to use the series of sinks or the bathroom. It's the voyeurs shower and the gaping hole(s) in the curtain make that more than obvious. However, today's Showman was vying for another option. He had the curtain pushed at least six inches open.

Now I have no interest in seeing this production, but something about it made me glance. Maybe it's because I like live performance art and this guy was definitely performing. I didn't have time to really think about it at that moment.

I had a great intense 30 minute cardio set and got nice and sweaty running a hilly 5k. The gym staff already turned off the lights in the club and were yelling at the 10 or so people finishing up. I headed back down to get my bag and noticed that the peeping tom shower is still running. This guy was still at it! After I walked by the opening toward the shower room (the voyeurs field of view) the water turned off and I swear to you it sounded as if somebody was smacking their hand against a wet back over and over again. Take a moment to imagine that, and then let your imagination run a little . . . yeah - this guy was having a good time and wanted people to know.

By this point I had to investigate. I mean come on now - the gym is closed and we have a naked man in the shower. I went back into the bathroom area and got more than a glimpse of our wet star.

So most people would assume this type of guy would be of a certain pedigree. People would guess he'd be an unattractive, awkward, gangly cretin. This was not the case. Would you believe that this character was an early 20s, decent looking, well built guy? He was. How crazy is that? This guy had no shame. On my return trip from the urinal he was waiting in the shower stall with his towel over his shoulder (um, not around his waist). We made eye contact and he cocked his head back in a way that suggested, "hey, come here." This was supposed to be hot like in the movies, but it wasn't. It was creepy.

Well there you have it - on any given night, like I said before, there's something going down in the locker room. But the part of this story that amazes me is that from the outside this was a guy that most guys (and girls) would want to date. I wondered about what this guy does for work and if his coworkers suspect his a hardcore exhibitionist. I also wondered when he planned on getting his naked wet ass out of the gym since it had closed before even I left.

Maybe he had a bad day and just wanted some companionship, but all I know is that once I left he had two choices for an audience: a wrinkled raisin of a man, or what appeared to be an overweight rabbi. I have a funny feeling that he was going to keep on trying to show people what he was "up" to, regardless of who those people were. He had already been in the shower for at least 35/40 minutes and wasn't phased by the many guys walking by and glancing nonchalantly his way. Nobody said a word about it and even the ultra macho latino folk who love to toss around heavy weights in the weight room just walked on by while he was going to town.

A lot of people are going to tell me, "that doesn't happen at my gym," and to them I say, "bull crap." For some reason when you put a shower in a room with a bunch of guys, at some point somebody is going to feel the urge to put on a show. I wonder how this particular one ended? The scenario I envisioned as I was walking home and laughing about the night was one that involved the gym's housekeeping guy coming into the locker room to pick up all the towels that were freakin' everywhere when he sees our little, errr not little, showman.

And the rest . . . well you can finish that on your own.

The Italian

2007-04-21T02:31:00.000-05:00

Today I did a free introductory session with an Italian guy. By Italian guy, I don't mean Italian-looking or Italian ancestry, I mean Italian as in he just moved to New York from Northern Italy. My own ancestry traces back to Italy so I have a weak spot for my ancient brethren. From the neck up, this recent migrant did not disappoint, he had dark hair, dark eyes, good teeth and a nice light perma-tan. Below the neck it was a different story, this guy was a fixer-upper.

For the record, the guy pictured on the right is pretty much perfect pedigree Northern Italian and he's included here in this post just because I think it's important with a fitness themed blog to keep your mind focused on the prize you win when you work out intelligently and diligently - and that prize is a smokin' hot bod like that.

Back to the story . . . Something about The Italian's accent made the session more fun than usual for me. Couple that with the fact that he hasn't worked out in 6 months and you have an hour or so of making him feel muscles he's not felt in a long, long time. Those are the types of sessions that are really fun for me because it feels more like teaching than anything else and when you just meet somebody they're pretty open to trying anything and everything.

Things were going along great, I got a pretty good assessment on him, his abs were burning, his arms were a little shaky, and I gave him a nice good stretch at the end. It was a storybook session and I was stoked - 3 of my main clients are out of the country and I needed to generate some new biz. In perfect scenario form, as we fished up he started talking about "our next session."

In order to have a next session however he has to buy a package. That's the part of the free session I hate the most - I mean yeah, training seems expensive but the value is pretty hard to beat. I pretty much never talk about selling anything because I find it annoying and offensive. If they want it (and after trying me out they usually want it) then they'll come to that part on their own.

My Italian buddy was talking about what days would be best for him to train and I just kept listening, waiting for the right moment to talk about session packages. Eventually, I just come out and ask him if there is a big event (other than just bathing suit season) for which he wanted to get into top shape. Yeah, there was. He wants to get ready for his trip back home to Italy to see his girlfriend. Alright, that's perfect. With 20 sessions he'd be well on his way. I slipped out the pricing sheet and he looked at me as if I had 3 heads or that he had to poop really badly. "What's zis? I thou a trainer is included with gym." At that very moment I knew it wasn't going to go my way. Regardless of how badly he wants and needs a trainer, he was seriously blown away by the fact that you pay for a gym and you pay for a trainer. That led to a discussion about New York City's prices, Starbucks, and George Bush. So there it was, a good 90 minutes down the toilet -- and I made zero dollars today.

This Lock is Your Lock, This Lock is My Lock

2007-04-18T23:00:00.000-05:00

After having 5 back to back clients tonight I headed up for my own workout at a different location. Nothing out of the ordinary - that's how my Wednesdays always go. I've been stuck on this new location for a few weeks now and the whole experience is pretty surreal. The gym is never crowded, the locker room is nearly always empty, and since there is no steam room, and no showers facing each other there is little or no cruising going down.

It's the sort of place a lot of people imagine gyms to be like but it's the sort of place that I have found to be a complete an utter anomaly. Couple that with it's location (in the heart of gay mecca blocks away from the birthplace of the gay movement) and it's baffling . I guess if you take away the chance to see some hot guy getting soapy or steamy most guys won't come.

So tonight I expected the same thing. I thought for sure I would see some of the regulars, including the kid who is obsessed with his love handles but I was wrong. It was a pretty new batch of folks. There was one guy who was moderately distracting. He wasn't distracting in the "my ipod has to be loud enough that everybody can hear it over their own ipod" or the more popular "I have to throw these weights down and watch them bounce into your space because I'm an asshole and have a small penis and need to overcompensate by lifting weight I can't control" way. Instead, he was distracting in a good, motivating way. I found the need to study his arms and the perfect vein running up and over his bicep to the pure white v-neck shirt that was pulledtaut across his chest.

I'm sure you want the story to turn out involving some hot times on the weight bench but after my first 3 sets of shoulder press I forgot about this guy - I was on a mission and the workout was in high gear.

It was one of those extra euphoric times at the gym. About a quarter of the way through I was pumping away and my heart was beating itself silly. By the end I was nice and sweaty through and through. Nothing beats these moments after a workout, your abs still burning, walking a little funny and everything a little pumped up.

I sauntered into the ghost town of the lockerroom all Western style, my Nike Shox serving as my hi-tech cowboy boots. I went to my locker and tried opening my lock. One try, no luck. Hmm, maybe I'm going in the wrong direction, a second try, no luck, a third, fourth - I forgot my combination?

I looked to my left and realized that I was trying the wrong locker. As I moved to the locker next to the one it seemed I was trying to break into I noticed a pair of sneakers that weren't my own down by my feet. I turned to the right and a guy quietly said, "excuse me," as he started to open the lock that had my fingerprints all over it.

Crap.

I didn't hear this guy come up behind me. Did he see me trying to open his lock? Did he think I was trying to steal his jeans? He didn't say a word about it. In this whole entire huge empty lockerroom he and I had to occupy the same tiny corner sharing the same awkward silence.

The silence was killing me. In any other club there would be some conversation going on, a shower running, steam room a steamin' away - but here I was - presumed guilty of breaking and entering by this guy who was clearly too shy to do anything about it. I wanted to laugh it off and say something like, "geez all these locks look the same" but figured that since my lock had a black face and his had a blue face - he would probably see that as a cover up for my fantastic scheme to break into his locker. In my defense, my lock prior to this one did have a blue face.

So I head to the shower, he's still at the locker. During the whole time that I got naked and toweled, he hadn't even removed a sneaker. He just rummaged through his things. I'm telling you it was an awkward moment all around.

I'm getting nice and wet in the shower when the shower curtain right next to me opens, the water turns on. What the hell is going on here? There are at least 7 showers in a row and he picks the one right next to me?

Was this flirting? Did he take my attempt to break into his locker as an attempt to break into his heart?

Back at my locker I dried off quickly. I moved my crap out of his way and pulled on my jeans pretending not to notice him. I got dressed quickly in awkward silence. The entire time he was still standing at his locker in his towel just digging around in his bag. I headed away from my locker, and as I am about to turn the corner, the same voice I heard before says "Hey . . ."
I cringe slightly and turn my head.
"you forgot your lock."

Textin' the Trainer, Vol. 1

2007-04-17T23:33:00.000-05:00

As you could probably assume, and as GQ so deftly remarked recently, the client-trainer relationship can get pretty intimate. At times it is pretty intense, and, when things are really going well the client feels obligated and committed to their trainer. After a while if the client isn't keeping up their end of the rigorous, but oh-so-fun deal, guilt sets in. Trainers get paid to check up on their clients, and over time clients are trained to simply divulge all their indiscretions. Sometimes, clients divulge a lot more . . .

Here's a text from a long-term client: "I had a skinny latte. Is that ok?"
Anybody know the answer? It's a toss-up, sure coffee isn't the best thing for the fitness minded chap, but some would argue the resultant caloric burn from the caffeine outweighs its negative impact (that's debatable but since I nearly own stock in Starbucks I say - drink up). A good rule to follow however is to never drink your calories, it's just way too easy to rack up some damage - and yes, even a skinny latte has some calories, a grande packs in about 130. Not sooo bad, but still - if your goal is say . . . a nude beach, choose straight up raw coffee.

This is the kind of text I love getting: "Shoulders and chest sore. Opening doors and pushing boxes are a small problem. Feels good though."

Now these texts all come from a recent client, who, consequently had no desire to get a trainer. As you read you'll see he's got other motives.

• "If u get me to focus in my breath and not in ur sexy shorts at the end of the "package" ... maybe I'll pay u a cab . . . or a dinner ;-)"

• "Lets say my xgirlfriend is a trainer either so if i only wanted to learn new exercises she could send me an email with a whole new workout . . . for free"

To which I responded by asking, "then why are you spending all this money?"

"2 have u wearing ur sexy shorts around me 4 one hour a week . . "

• "u punish me with those workouts, u get me horny . . . WHERE'S MY HAPPY ENDING! cant deal with it anymore"

Keeping It Up on the Road

2007-04-15T22:40:00.000-05:00

I spent most of last week in a mediocre hotel outside of Dayton, OH. I'm what most people would consider a disciplined guy when it comes to working out so when I'm not able to hit up my normal selection of gyms in the city I panic a little. I didn't choose the hotel because if I did I would have checked in advance for a good fitness set up or gym access or something.

Like most hotels these days this place had a tiny room with a recumbent bike, and a flimsy treadmill. I looked in the corner however and there it was - a Bowflex. I think I started to drool a little upon seeing the Bowflex - my mind wandering to those images of the guy in short red shorts that used to come on late night TV for the infomercial.

I was pretty certain this little gadget would serve my needs and keep me feeling nice and on schedule with working out. After using it - I'm not sure I'd buy one. There were way too many things to switch and adjust in order to move on to a different exercise - it made any semblance of a circuit nearly impossible. Clasp this, run this cable through this wheel, move the seat, switch the bows, repeat on the other side. On a positive note this thing is constantly training you for greater stability so you're getting more bang for your buck with each set.

Still, all I need is a flat bench with a bar, plates, and a good set of dumbbells. That's what I grew up on and I still swear by it.

So I managed to get some good running in on the treadmill but I had to turn my music up so loud in order to drown out the creaking of the machine. I go two great workouts in with the Bowflex but the constant rubbing of cables on my arms from the chest press really tore up my forearms.

The bottom line is that even without this too-fancy-for-its-own-good gadget, you can, and certainly need to find ways to keep on sweating while you're traveling. Come on you know that flight attendants and other recurrent hotel dwellers have perfected this - a good cardio romp in the sack never hurt anybody - just keep it up for at least a good 30 minutes - and heck - do it standing for even greater caloric burn.

Another thing I noticed from traveling recently is that in some places (suburbia, and rural areas) it is nearly impossible to make good selections for eating unless you have access to a kitchen, and the time to prepare it - so staying in a hotel in Suburbia is like swimming in partially hydrogenated oil just for fun. At least in New York you can get some organic turkey breast on a whole grain pita 24 hours a day.

Your Butt: An Owner's Guide

2007-04-09T23:45:00.000-05:00

I'm willing to wager that you're sitting on your butt right now. An average of 27% of Americans get no physical activity outside of walking to and from cars or to the fridge for some chicken wings and a beer.

Granted, my fellow New Yorkers are more likely to be walking further differences and up more flights of stairs, but still, we sit on our asses like we're hens in a pen waiting for our eggs to hatch. For all of you who work in offices, your occupational hazard is the chair and it's putting you at the greatest risk for a butt crisis.

If that doesn't compel you to get up and move around (after you finish reading the blog) then maybe the explanation I give to my clients will inspire you.

Here's the deal, your largest butt muscle (the Gluteus Maximus (G-Max) extends your hip joint. Sitting flexes your hip joint. So with every second that you sit, your major butt muscle is getting stretched and stretched.

Sigh.

I like clients to imagine a piece of elastic. That elastic is like your ass. The constant stretching eventually causes it to lose its ability to return to its original shape. At this point, clients typically have a look of horror on their faces, their hands slowly moving to squeeze their once taut, early 20s, perky ass that has now become soft and droopy. And while we're at it, a nice ass isn't just for women. Guys are always asking me for tips with their ass.

Alright that's one reason you may be the victim of a butt crisis. But there is more bad news. The muscle that helps to give your butt that nice sculpted look is the Gluteus Medius (G-Med) which is responsible for hip abduction (moving your leg away from your body laterally). The most prolific vision of hip abduction is none other than Miss Jane Fonda. Unfortunately, we are always moving forward. The G-Med is one of the most ignored muscles on our body, and it is an important one for keeping your legs in optimum alignment as well as for the obvious cosmetic benefits that come from a firm tush.

By this point you should be sufficiently concerned about your derriere's appearance. The other things to consider are the real responsibilities of that huge-ass (pun intended) muscle group. A strong g-max is pretty much mandatory when it comes to reducing lower back pain. A weakened G-Max causes a tilt in your pelvis that might look like an overly arched lower back. It may look good when you're dancing in a Beyoncé video but the bottom line is that eventually your back is going to hurt and soon you won't be able to straighten out your posture. Couple that with osteoporosis in a few years and you're as good as immobile. Forever.

Ok, ok, I overstated the case - but only a little.

All this hysteria about the great hind-end crisis, what are we to do? How about an Ass-Kickin' Workout or two? Try 3 of my favorite butt exercises below, or if you're ass is more likely to win a SAG award than Helen Mirren or Jennifer Hudson then check email me at DashboardG2 at mac.com for a complete Butt Blaster, Tush Toner, Hiney Helper workout I designed for beginners and/or one for the more advanced.

Stability and Endurance: The Bridge
Bridging begins on your back, your arms at your sides, ankles directly under the knees.
As you exhale you will engage your glutes (and of course draw in your abdomen) while you lift your pelvis toward the ceiling.
You are aiming to create a straight line from your knees to your shoulders, keeping your glutes activated the entire time. Hold this position for 30-60 seconds, rest for a moment, and repeat at least 6 times.
Advance the bridge by trying it with one leg at a time.
Keeping your pelvis level as it rises, straighten one leg while keeping your knees in line with each other.
Further advance the bridge by incorporating a stability ball.
Place your heels at the crest of the ball and press your pelvis upward.
This too can be done with one leg at a time. The opportunities are limitless I tell ya!

Strength and Stability: Ball Hamstring Curl (slightly advanced)
Assume the bridge position using a stability ball by placing your heels at the crest of the ball and pressing your pelvis toward the ceiling.
Exhale while activating your glutes, pressing your pelvis upward and pulling the ball toward your body. You must aim to keep a straight line (the entire time) between your knees and your shoulders. The final destination is pictured.
Slowly return the ball to the starting position, repeat 6-12 times.

Shaping and Toning: Lateral band Walking *
You want to get your hands on small power bands or track them down at your gym. If they don't have any - demand that they get some. There are various degrees of resistance, but each one serves some purpose.
The band will go around your ankles for this exercise.
You will stand up straight, exhale as you move your leg away from the other leg and step to the side. Keep your tush tucked in naturally as you do this.
Try moving 4 steps to the right and then 4 steps to the right. Repeat until you have moved 24 steps.
Try both keeping your knee extended and also with your legs in a slightly bent position.
For an added total-body bonus, toss in some lightweight dumbbell shoulder presses as you step.
After each set of 24 steps, rest for 30 seconds. Repeat 3-5 times. Your butt will be burning.

*If you don't have any bands, you can still do this same thing with ankle weights, or laying on your side and lifting your leg up away from the other (see Jane Fonda above). Keep your foot flexed and your knee extended. Complete the full range of motion, do this 25 times, roll over and repeat. Rest, and do it all again.

At the very least - incorporate bridging into your workout. That, or just get up and walk. Whenever you are moving your legs your butt is what pulls your leg under your pelvis, so squeeze your ass when you walk sometimes as if you're minting a coin - do it at least a few minutes a day and you'll see some differences in no time - or you'll have minted enough money to buy yourself a pair of pants in a larger size - eeek! Even worse - you may have to buy one of these to distract from your jiggly-ness.

So you have finished reading the post, now you can read some other entries, leave a comment, or shoot me an email - but within the next 3 minutes you better be off your duff and movin' that booty.

Livin' Libido Lockerroom!

2007-04-08T00:11:00.000-05:00

No matter the moon phase, weather, or time of day, there's always something (or, I guess, someone) going down in the locker room. With the exception of one gym location that I recently discovered, every other visit to the gym(s) either for work or for working out includes seeing a hook-up in the making. These sightings typically involve one or more of the following techniques:

• stares that last a little, or a lot, too long
• the more crafty "I'm going to look in the mirror but actually check you out instead" maneuver
• explicit gestures (e.g., grabbing oneself, pointing at one's "goods", or even bumping into somebody else's "goods")
• towels that somehow fail to cover appropriately, or fail altogether and fall to the floor
• outright explicit verbal invites to conserve water
• slightly opened shower curtains; or, the more ambitious and becoming more popular, the fully opened shower curtain technique
• silent advances that aren't rejected, also known as "the code"

I have seen all of these in play - and some with successful results. To be clear, I have not acted on any of these - ever. Other than looking at someone every once in a while who is cute, hot, muscular, tan, dark-haired - I just wrap the towel around and do my thing. I do like to watch the drama unfold in the locker room and I'm often astonished at who participates in the games. There are actually some pretty good lookin' guys who do some pretty outrageous things.

I was in the steamroom (being innocent, virginal, and pure as always) when this guy comes in and sits a little too close to me. Generally speaking, I like to keep wet, naked strangers at least least 18 inches away. Alright, so maybe it does depend on the stranger. Anyway, this guy is sitting there for no less than one minute when I start to feel his stare in my direction. I didn't need to turn my head to feel the brightness of his round face pointing in my direction. It seemed as if Medusa was staring right at me -- I was frozen still. With just my little towel wrapped snugly around me, I closed my eyes.

I heard the door open but pretended not to notice. I decided I should remain perfectly still, that's what I learned in Cub Scouts for avoiding bear attacks and by the looks of who entered the steam room, this strategy was was the appropriate one. He was unquestionably a Bear. I thought the entrance of a third person would quell my wet, naked, creepy neighbor's staredown. I was right, he was no longer looking at me, his gaze shifted immediately to Mr. Bear and this Bear wanted his honey. The furry one made eye contact with my neighbor, knelt on the tiled step in front of him, moved his towel (which I presume was now a tent), and, well . . . you can imagine the rest.

I have to keep on imagining the rest right along with you -- I didn't stay for the show.

I always get different reactions from people when I tell them I didn't stay. Some think I should have, some wish I would have, others think I shouldn't have gone in there in the first place. All I know is that I was amazed at how fast it all went down. There were no words exchanged, no names, no handshake - just quick action. This was a busy time of day at the gym, the locker room was full, other guys surely walked in after I left. For all I know, and I do suspect, that steam room got a whole lot steamier after my departure.

A lot of guys I talk to aren't surprised by any of this, and honestly I'm not surprised anymore either. Here is a sampling of actual Craigslist postings from the past few days. See what you're missing by not going to the gym?

Posting 1: So close, but no -- ummm . . cigar?

To the guy who invited me into the shower at NYSC:
All the showers were in use, I was waiting behind you. When a stall became available you asked if I wanted to share with you. I was tempted but then another became available and I took it. I regret it now. Let's meet up there again and try for a happier ending! Tell me which location it was so I know it's you.

Posting 2: The Steamroom Cinderella Story. This guy left his kiss on somebody and wants to find it again, and again.

Were you in the steamroom today at an NYSC? Were you the guy I kissed? If so I want to kiss you over and over -- you are one hot guy. Drop me a line with location and time to prove it's you and we'll take it from there.

Posting 3: Three's Company. But this company went out of business.

You were the total hottie that was in the steam room at around 8:40 or so. Originally there were 4 of us in there, but then the other 2 left and that is when we started to play. Unfortunately we were interrupted when another guy walked in and we never could get things started again. You were simply beautiful and I would love to do it again! What other days do you work out there? Describe me and yourself so I know it is you!

Posting 4: Sadly I call this the "All Too Common." It's the standard gym hook-up post -- but this one is exceptionally sketchy so I deleted some words (you'll figure it out). If you're offended by fingers that wander -- don't read it.

attractive horny guy here, thick ____, nice face, 5'11, 150#, tattoos, dark hair, love _____ with a guy and even getting a finger up my _____. _____ off across the shower hallway with a hot dude at w80 last sunday, looking for the same scene.

Common Myths #2

2007-04-06T17:39:00.000-05:00

So I have been hearing from quite a few people recently about their experiences or, more frequently, their lack of experiences at the gym. From what I can tell there is a lot of gym-phobia out there. Some of this has to do with a myth, or series of myths actually, about what actually goes on at a gym.

Myth #2: Only hot guys and gals work out at the gym, and if you don't know what you're doing - people will laugh at you.

Hmmm. This was an actual line from an IM conversation that I had the other day. At first, I thought it was some of the ever-so-common IM banter, but after a little digging I realized that this person actually believed it. He said he went to the gym one time but got so intimidated that he did go back for 3 months. His 90 bucks a month just goes wasted unless he goes really late at night and heads straight to the treadmill - something he says he does only once a month.

That's sad.

But I can relate. Gyms are intimidating places. I had always worked out at home with a great set-up that included a flat bench, dumbbells, a pull up bar, lots of mirrors on the wall, and one medicine ball (that I hardly knew how to use). Moving from my expansive place in Buffalo to the Metropolis meant leaving it all in storage. I was fit, and I pretty much thought I knew what I was doing. However, the prospect of actually going to a "Health Club" freaked me out big time.

So -- I joined a 24 hour gym. I went around 2 a.m. just to avoid seeing other people. Nobody works out at 2 a.m. right?

Wrong!

There I was, in the lockerroom frozen still because I heard a shower turning off. All those issues with the middle school post-swim class locker room situations came rushing back. You know the ones, that kid is "becoming a man," but I am still just a boy.

Where do I look? What do I do? Is somebody going to run over here and snap my ass with a wet, wound-up towel?

I had imagined that a huge muscular Adonis reminiscent of the High School football captain would saunter around the corner. I focused intently on my lock, pretending it had changed it's own combination without warning.

From the corner of my eye I see a foot. In this whole great big lockerroom this towel-clad guy ends up next to me?! Like I said before, locker selection is always a gamble.

My heart was racing. He was so close I could feel the steam coming off his body. My neck hurt I was looking down so hard.

I wanted to run away screaming.

What was the big deal? I can't really say - but I will say I was wholly intimidated and I hadn't even set foot in the weight room yet. At that instant, I felt like I had no business being there.

Needing an escape, I worked up an urge to pee. Not there of course (get your mind out of the fetish gutter it was just in)! That's when I saw him - the most plain looking, soft-edged guy.

Phew. No Adonis was going to judge me today.

I did feel like everybody else there knew what they were doing. I had only ever used the basic equipment. I always pretended to be stretching near a machine while I discreetly read how to use it. I managed to navigate my way into some great workouts but it wasn't easy at first.

My confidence grew and I started testing myself. I decided to go at 6 p.m. when I figured it would be busiest. I was right. It sucked. People everywhere were fighting over machines and weights and treadmills. However, it was that crash course that made me see that there were people of all shapes and sizes - all with their own motives (some of them questionable of course) and all with a clear variety of knowledge. I started trying out other clubs as a game with myself purposely trying to get over the fear of the unknown.

Fast forward a bit of time -- now I work for the club. Life is funny that way.

But the moral of this wandering story is that the gyms certainly are not filled with hot people and they are certainly not filled with people who know what they are doing. Every day I'm there, I see people do some crazy things and unless it's dangerous I just look on in amazement. So, I say go on with your wild self and jump right in - there's no reason to wait.

Handling Love . . . Handles

2007-04-05T17:45:00.000-05:00

Alright, so there is a guy I often see at the gym (one where I workout, not the one where I work) and he is constantly grabbing his lower back. He's not grabbing in a way that suggests "oh wow, my lower back really hurts," instead, he's grabbing in a way that suggests he hates his body. He winces and frowns and runs with his hands on his lower back as if he's trying to hide them from everybody in the gym.

For some reason this really bothers me.

I see this kid at the gym almost every single night and I each time I see him looking at himself in the mirror grabbing at his "love handles." He seems frustrated and obsessed with it. Here is what I can ascertain from a distance:

• he wants to lose body fat
• he works out at least five times a week
• he does at least 30 minutes of cardio on 3 of those days
• he incorporates resistance training
• he's gay (it's relevant because it likely causes unrealistic expectations about his body)

So from my limited data, he's doing a good job at his own battle - he is highly motivated and has a goal in mind, things trainers love to see in their own clients. However, he could switch up a couple of things in order to get better and faster results:

First, we must admit that there are some things about our bodies that we can't change. We're given a frame and there is nothing you can do at the gym to change it. You can however, make the most of what you're given. Obsessing about it actually makes it nearly impossible to change it. Even when this kid has zero fat, he is still going to think and believe he has those pesky love handles, which consequently on him are not that bad at all.

Second, cardio is key to losing fat but more effective when accompanied with some resistance training on different days. The weekly general rule for working up a sweat is 3 days to feel good, 5 days to look good. However, cardio doesn't just mean jumping on the treadmill or elliptical for 30 minutes. To fight some wicked fat and to kick your cardio ass try doing radical intervals that alternate between 70 and 85% of your maximum heart rate (If you want help figuring this out, let me know). I suggest 2 minutes at the low end followed by 1 minute at the high end. Same rule applies if you're on the rower (which I prefer over the others), or the ultimate cardio experience -- the VersaClimber.

Third, this kid does "work out" with weights. That's good because we all know that the more muscle you have - the more calories you burn during rest. But since he clearly wants to lose some extra weight he should be engaged in a nice little circuit jumping from set to set with no rest. So instead of spending 20 minutes doing a few sets of dramatic bench presses and dumbbell flys he would be better served going from a press to a row to a fly to a reverse fly to a pull down to a shoulder press several times at a medium weight followed by a similar circuit for the lower body and abs. After a few weeks of doing this three times a week - he'll be happy.

So I see this kid pretty much every night but have never talked to him. I feel funny just going up to people at the gym. No matter how sly it would seem like a pick up and that's not my intent. Last night he was there with two other guys (which really slowed down his already slow workout). One guy left and gave him a kiss before doing so . . . only in New York will you see two guys kissing on the floor of a gym. Ok, ok so this gym is in the Village so I guess it's safe to say it's to be expected.

Your Chest and Hips just want to be Free

2007-04-04T12:38:00.000-05:00

Alright friends, so I have to devote at least some space to actual fitness knowledge. For today I'll hold back on the many sordid tales of lockerroom debauchery and blurry boundaries of the personal trainer realm.

Today's focus is on the part of the body most mentioned when I first meet somebody interested in training: their midsection. Abs, tummy, belly - you know the place. It's the single most featured part of the body on the faceless profile pics that closeted guys use online and it's the site on most people's body where so much war is waged on fat that it makes the actual Battle of the Bulge seem minor in comparison.

There is a lot to say about this part of the body but today's focus is on that region's ability to move. Your chest and hips are not one unit, they are independent chunks of your body - but so much we do limits our flexibility between the two. Most people are just huge stiffies - what I am asking you to do is to increase the range of motion that your chest has, independent of your hips. The primary muscles involved are your Transverse Abdominus for stability and your Internal and External Obliques for movement and strength.

Before even thinking about this concept you should have mastered the "drawing in" maneuver. You'll need to be able to engage your Transverse Abdominus, an ultra thin but wide belt-like muscle that basically holds in your guts. It's the deepest layer of the "core" muscle group and it's responsible for providing the stability and erect humanoid posture we've been into since we tossed off the whole ape scene eons ago.

Let's try something. Sit up nice and tall in your chair, feet flat on the floor shoulder width apart. Exhale a nice long breath and pull that belly button back toward your spine and press your lower back closer to the back of the chair. Now do it again, but this time -- don't let your chest move down, keep your shoulders and chest nice and tall - you should feel like your abs are stretching long while tightening closer. Ideally you'll also feel a slight pull on your pelvis. Hold this position for the entire time you exhale, then relax just that midsection while you inhale. Do this for a minute or so. Come on - nobody will know you're doing it - it's ok to have good posture.

Alright. So keeping that in mind - I want you to lift your arms up as if you were hugging somebody. Clasp your hands together. Check to see that your shoulders are not rising. Now inhale and twist to the right, keeping your hips squared front and your feet on the floor. Exhale and twist back to the front, pulling your belly button back like we did a minute ago. Repeat on the left.

This is an important stretch and core development exercise. Once you have done it seated, you can do it on the ground but this time keeping your shoulder/chest complex stationary while you move your hips from side to side, commonly known as the Hip Crossover.

This is a "pre-hab" exercise that serves as a good warmup for some hardcore ab exercises. As we get older we get stiffer - and your ability to move your chest independent of your hips allows you greater performance, reduces lower back pain, and allows you to work those sexy oblique muscles that run diagonally across your midsection.

For any advanced readers, I suggest the side plank twist to achieve these same results - increased stability of the pillar and increased strength and movement in the obliques. The picture of the guy in red shorts should help you - I happen to think it's a really good image - one that keeps me very interested in the exercise. Good luck.

Up Close and Personal

2007-04-03T10:34:00.000-05:00

Last night I was working with a client and I started thinking about how close the trainer/client relationship really gets. I've been working with "Zach" for about 6 months now, usually twice a week and I have to say - the job requires me to get pretty close. It's nearly a requirement for trainers to touch their clients. That's an interesting road to go down, especially in the early stages of the relationship.

The position during which I find myself always having to touch my clients is the bridge position (pictured). Nearly every session I have done involves me placing my hand under the small of their back and gently pushing upward. This isn't a problem with the women normally, but with the guys it can get a little weird.

I am always a little bit afraid that some guys will get freaked out with another guy touching the small of his back - with the close proximity to the "glutes" and all. But even further, this position usually involves me on my knee or knees and really close to the guy's crotch. Sure this could be like some great porn but I'm actually trying to get the guy to extend his hips and tighten his ass. Nothing is worse than a saggy backside.

With Zach the touching came pretty naturally - he didn't seem to mind. Since he was one of my first hardcore, dedicated, regular clients I followed the standard protocol, asking if I could touch here and there. Now we're to the point where I just do what I have to do to get him into the position he needs to be in.

Last night, we were in the middle of a very intense workout that pushed him to his limits and I found myself touching his sweaty back, pushing gently between his shoulder blades. He gets up from the t-bar row machine and ends up on the mat where I am putting my fingers around his belly button to see if he's "drawing-in" appropriately. I feel like I touch this guy everywhere all of the time and it's this vulnerability on his part that makes him such a good client and why he's progressing so well. He has no issues other than he wants a good workout and I have no agenda in touching him other than to give him the optimum workout.
I like it that way.

Contrast this with "Matt" with whom I spent the entire hour of his free introductory session looking at his muscles. Although he was highly experienced and needed very little assistance from me I found the need to readjust him more than most people. He was the eager type of gym boy who was oblivious to the cuteness he was oozing through his sweaty performance during squats on the Bosu ball. "Reach back with your butt," I would say. He'd do it without question or hesitation. Hours like that make my job oh so enjoyable.

Showers Make You Clean - They Can't be Dirty

2007-04-01T20:58:00.000-05:00

Taking a shower is the dessert if your work out is the main course. It can make or break a perfectly good bout of exercise because you're usually in it while you're still in that blissful state of: worked so hard my body begged me to stop mode. Granted, my SGF (straight girlfriend) refuses to take a shower after she works out because she likes to play this whole "I'm an innocent Southern girl, chaste and pure" act (we'll get to that in a later post). However, for the purposes of this entry, let's assume you're like me and you enjoy the sweet pleasure of hot water gently caressing your supple skin.

Ok so at the gym this "event" takes place in a semi-public way. I think it is interesting to see how guys navigate this area.
On a normal day, you have a handful of guys all in various stages of undress, towels strewn about, a mysterious funk in the air, and the humidity level of Florida after an August rain. There is hissing from the steamroom and sound of the shower water hitting the floor.

No matter what there will be a locker lizard, towel troll, whatever you want to call him - he's only there to hang out in the lockerroom and follow guys to the shower. Yes, this happens on a daily basis at pretty much every gym in the city. It's usually an overly tan chubby guy who has no shame about looking down at your crotch.

You go into the shower, thankfully there are stalls at the club and not a gang shower like in high school (sigh . . . I wish I went to school with Mario Lopez) and there really isn't anything out of the ordinary.

The one thing you will notice after you turn around to get your back wet is that there are several holes that were torn into the curtain. It is clearly obvious by the ever so conspicuous eye-level location they were made to be "peepholes" for some curious chap who wants to see some man-goods.

Now I refuse to believe that my fellow gays are out here ripping tiny holes into the curtains of shower stalls - it's easy enough to get some good old fashion gay lovin' in New York City.

So who are these voyeuristic bandits?

Choice A: It's the married guys.
It has to be the married guys who are so insecure about their own inabilities to satisfy a woman with their meager goods. They're dying to see the competition, they're born and bred on the American ideal that bigger is better - and that investigative pursuit been happening at the urinals since Kindergarten.

Choice B: It's the "straight" guys.
Any perusal of craiglists will provide you with more than a few postings from "straight" guys who want to check out another guy while he showers.
It's not really a noteworthy day when you walk past the showers to see guys poking their heads out . . . both of them.

Choice C: It's the "not-so-hot" gay boys.
This is probably sad but true. We're a nasty bunch and let's face it - seeing naked wet guys never gets boring. If you're not getting it every morning when you watch your boyfriend (or boyfriend for a night) shower - you have to be resourceful. If nothing else, the gays are a resourceful bunch.

Nonetheless, there are peepholes in every single shower curtain, and you don't even have to pay a quarter.

Common Myths, #1

2007-04-01T15:02:00.000-05:00

Myth 1: There are no White trainers at New York Sports Clubs (NYSC).

So, an angry White lady posted something tacky about the trainers at NYSC on Craigslist, asking whether or not there were any "caucasian" trainers at the club. I often wondered the same thing, just not in that same annoying way.
When I moved to New York and joined the gym I saw no White trainers.
When I got hired, there I was -- the token White guy. I made the manager promise to keep me as the sole paleface - for the simple reason that it makes me memorable and easy to spot from across the gym. Since then, he hired two White girls and an old White man.
Granted, the two girls are gone now and the older guy looks like Bush - but for a while there the Whities were shaking up the industry norm.

Warming Up

2007-04-01T13:52:00.000-05:00

For me, it all starts with picking the right locker. On a typical day I walk into the lockerroom and look for a little nook to spread out my things and get down to my naked self. I like to have some privacy, but not so much privacy that guys may suspect I'm hiding something - or a lack of something.

I do take time to plan out what underwear to wear to the gym. This is a critical decision, yet one that a lot of guys I've seen at the gym lately have not taken the time to consider. On a typical day I see way more Hanes and Fruit of the Loom than I want to. I am a tighty-whitie fan for sure, but there are enough better versions out there than the clunky, clumpy standards than come in sets of three and in a plastic bag.

Come on guys, there are benches in two long rows -- this is a runway and your choices matter.

So - I had the unfortunate experience of ending up next to a guy who, by all standards (I'm not even using the much more highly selective gay standards), broke every rule of lockerroom underwear fashion.

This guy was wearing his triple XL pair of blue Hanes OVER his belly. When I was young I used to wonder what I would do if I suddenly grew a belly. Would I be tucker and snug my underwear up under my belly or would I go over it. I truly never thought people would choose the latter, but this guy did. He looked a lot like a globe, with the southern hemisphere completely covered in a skeevy ocean. I choose ocean because when he put his foot up on the bench, his waves were jigglin' in front of my face.

Ah, just another day at the gym.