Never Been Kissed

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

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)

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

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

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

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

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.