It's Not You, It's Me

I work out, on average, five times a week. I accomplish this by aiming to work out every day. I don't "count" yoga as a workout. (I'm not suggesting that yoga isn't or can't be a workout, but the kind I do is more stretchy and relaxing, so I don't include it.) My cardio is mainly running and spinning. Some weeks I run more, some weeks I spin more. I throw in other classes to keep things interesting. I also do more conditioning-type workouts several times a week. Those are usually my Physique 57 classes. I've had this particular routine for about a year, but have been working out seriously for longer. I'm telling you this to give you some context to understand what I mean when I say that I think I'm in reasonably good shape. I'm no athlete, but I'm fit.

I recently won a free training session at Rich Baretta's gym by being one of the first 50 people to invite a friend to receive Vital Juice's daily emails. I hadn't heard much about this private training gym, but I was excited. It had been a while since I'd worked out with a trainer.

The space is beautiful. In the front of the room, there are 10 foot by 10 foot spaces, each with its own mat, own equipment, own lighting and own sound control so your trainer can really personalize your workout. The back has more a more traditional setup.  The receptionist explained that there are no membership fees and no packages. Sessions cost $125 and they have approximately 8 trainers, each with a different style and approach. I fell in love with the atmosphere when I walked in. If they had matched me up with a different trainer, perhaps I'd be more inclined to return.

The woman I worked out with is probably the most educated trainer I've ever met. She's an ex-gymnast, a former fitness competition champion and has taught a wide variety of fitness classes over her lengthy career. Make no mistake, she has the body to show for it, too.

My trainer started out asking me about my gym regimen. I described it, anticipating she would applaud my commitment to fitness; instead, her disapproval was palpable. Running is bad, she said. It's hard on the joints, but the real crime is that it bulks up your thighs. She pointed out that my thighs were already too bulky. "Power walk instead. Turn down the speed and work with a really high incline." I didn't have a chance to explain that I run outside, not on a treadmill, and that I was training for a half-marathon; when I opened my mouth, she cut me off. "I know it's not as fun," she said, as if the word itself were distasteful to her. Spinning struck her as being similarly misguided. The only cardio workouts she expressed approved of were the elliptical and power walking. She also cautioned me never to do a lunge again, lest I bulk up my bulky thighs more.  I decided that her fondness for the word "bulk" had more to do with the fact that English is not her native language than anything else, and brushed it aside.  (I'm a size zero; how bulky can I be?)

She questioned me intensely about my specific goals, and was skeptical of my inability to articulate any.  I kept explaining that, while I'd be happy to pick some goals to aim for (unaided pull-ups, for example), I work out as much as I do because I enjoy working out.  Somehow, this didn't translate, either.

I thought things were starting to go a little better when we starting working out. I hoped that, if nothing else, I'd win her over with my plucky sticktoitiveness.  We started with abs and the exercises were tough.  Abs are one of my weaker areas, but I can grit through a lot, so I did.  As I worked, she pinched my stomach, my triceps.  She was trying to get a sense of things.  I chalked her disregard for personal space up to cultural differences.

Pinching aside, most of the workout was actually fun. She was very creative, and I even thought I might have impressed her a little with my Bosu ball skills.

As we finished, though, she told me that since I didn't have goals, she'd give me her impression of what she thought I could work on. This sounded like a decent idea, but suddenly we were looking at my reflection in the mirror and discussing my bulky thighs again. As it turns out, my biceps are also too big and I should never intentionally work them.  My triceps aren't toned enough.  With her gestures, she compared my body to hers. She pointed out that my waist would look smaller if my shoulders were bigger.  In fact, the only time she really advocated eating protein was after working my shoulders so that I could accomplish this.

In retrospect, perhaps I should have told her to back off.  When I'm put on the spot like that, though, my natural reaction is to be positive and agreeable.  I don't like letting anyone knowing that they got to me.  I don't like admitting it to myself either.  If anything, I may have egged her on a bit.

As she spoke, I kept flashing back to that Sex and the City episode where the plastic surgeon walks Samantha through all the procedures they could do - the scene where circus music starts to play as she looks at herself covered in red magic marker, horrified to see herself as the doctor had seen her.

My trainer had plenty to say about my diet, too.  I made the mistake of disclosing the 100 calorie jello pudding snack I'd had that afternoon.  I get that this isn't health food, but it's chocolate and it's yummy and it's only 100 calories.  She couldn't fathom why I would put this in my body.  Incidentally, she doesn't believe in eating any carbs with dinner, and your last meal should be eaten by 6:00pm, 7:00 at the very latest.

As I walked home that night, I struggled to shrug off the weight of her judgments.  She had called so much into question and I was presented with an immediate dilemma.  I was starving and hadn't eaten dinner yet and couldn't imagine what I should eat.  It was way past 6:00, but I had to have dinner. She'd said no carbs at night, but she'd also said no protein after lifting weights or I'll get bulkier.  What to do?

I couldn't stop thinking about everything she had said.  At Physique 57 the next day, I chose 5 lb weights for my heavy set, instead of my usual 8 lbs.  I couldn't avoid doing bicep curls altogether, but I figured I could lighten the load so as not to further bulk up my arms. (5 lbs weights are great for some people, but they did nothing for me. )  I felt guilty when I ran.  I suddenly hated everything in my wardrobe.  I was neurotic about my diet.  This mild paranoia lasted for a few days.

I don't doubt that if I followed this woman's prescription for life, and texted her my every meal as some of her clients do, I would look more like her model and actress clients.  I also don't doubt that she would really teach me how to hate my body.  I'm embarrassed by how much damage I let her do do in a single session. 

I'm a thirty year old attorney.  I'm supposed to deprive myself and devote that much time and energy into my appearance?  Really?  Why on earth would I want to do that?

If a fairy godmother or a genie appeared and offered me slimmer thighs or perfect arms, would I take them?  Sure.  But I won't swap out activities I enjoy for calorie-burning drudgery in order to accomplish that.  The way running makes me feel is important.  Chocolate and beer and other assorted evils are important, too.  And while I have no desire to get totally ripped, I am proud of the muscles I've built.  I actually kind of like my biceps.

I understand that a great way to sell personal training sessions is to convince people that they're unfit, unattractive, or some combination of the two and that the only way they can remedy the situation is by working with a trainer. Perhaps that's this woman's MO. Or maybe she is just used to working with clients whose goal is a perfect model body.  I couldn't say.  At one point she told me that fitness is her passion. I just don't see that.

For the right person, she's probably a phenomenal trainer; she's not right for me.  Perhaps I'm too sensitive, but how I feel - and how I feel about how I look - is infinitely more important to me than how I look.  I can't afford to let anyone mess with that.  Goals just can't trump priorities.

- Gym Belle -

Speedball

Before I took Steve Feinberg's Powerstrike class at the 85th street Equinox back in the summer of 2004, I had never been a class person.  I'd taken a handful of step classes and one dance class that I still cringe thinking about.  At one point, we had to skip in circles.  I kid you not.  I was mortified.

Fortunately, the very next day, I tried Powerstrike.  I wasn't nervous.  After all, the Tae Bo videos I'd done in college had to have taught me something, right?  Wrong.  This class was hard and fast.  I flailed about, fists flying this way and that.  I managed to punch my chin.  My mother may have dreamed of becoming a ballerina, but my father had to be taught to step and clap to the rhythm before we'd unleash him at my bat mitzvah.  I was very much his daughter that day.

The thing is, Steve learned my name.  He came by periodically to correct my form and show me the combinations.  It would be a solid month before I saw any meaningful improvement, but from that first day forward, I knew I could learn.

That's what sets Steve's classes apart from the others I've taken over the years.  If you want to learn, he wants to teach you.  Steve bounces around the room, he dances, he rhymes compulsively and sings out the moves.  As a rule, the combinations will fit the beat perfectly.  Steve's unapologetic confidence and enthusiasm turn some people off, but if you're one of "his people," his classes are the best.

Steve's Powerstrike days are over; he now teaches Shadow-do,which I have yet to try, and host of other classes his company has developed, including Speedball.  Speedball is a cardio class that involves moving with a weighted medicine ball.  All rest is "active rest," so you'll come back to some basic movements every so often to recover, but you'll never put the ball down or stop moving.  Some of the moves are martial arts inspired, some are more sports-oriented.  There's a Tai Chi-esque element in there, as well, because if you try to move the ball with your arms, after an hour, they will give out.  The movements have to come from your core.

Class is divided into 4 sections.  During the first part, you'll learn the basic moves.  In sections 2 and 3, Steve introduces different levels or variations of those moves.  You can always stick with the basics until you're comfortable picking up the levels.  Speedball can be a bit hard on my knees in general, so I'm very careful about attempting the higher level moves even though they're fun.  In the last part of class, Steve strings moves together into choreographed sequences.  Some days I'm better at this than others; I'm still my father's daughter.

There are 2 lb, 4lb, 6lb and, I believe, even heavier balls to choose from.  Most women use the 4 lb ball.   If it's your first class and you want to try the 4 lb ball, take a 2 lb ball as well to keep nearby just in case.  If you're starting to sacrifice form to keep the ball going, switch to a lower weight or put the ball down entirely.  Do this before you lose control of the ball and clock someone.  I've been clocked by arrant balls and it hurts.  I usually start out with 6 lbs and switch down to 4 lbs depending on how I feel.

Steve's classes are full of regulars.  As a general rule, the people in the front row are the best.  They know what they are doing, and you can learn by watching them.  If you are new to a class or don't attend often, my personal opinion is stay out of the front row.  That said, if you really want to learn, don't hide in the back, either.  Stand somewhere where you can see the front row so that you have people to follow.  As always, I'm a big fan of the side mirrors so you can keep an eye on your form.

Speedball is great when I'm looking for something to mix my cardio up.  It's a different kind of challenge than running or spinning, but similarly intense.  Speedball challenges your balance and endurance.  You will sweat and you'll burn a ton of calories.  It's a good time.  Expect some soreness. 

-Gym Belle-

ps - While most Speedball regulars are women, but I regularly see men in class and believe it's totally bro-friendly.

pps - Also check out Speedball classes taught by co-founder Michelle Ho.  She rocks.

Fit, Fierce & Fabulous

You don't get a body like Dawn Parker's by messing around, so you'd better bring your A game to her Saturday evening conditioning class at the Equinox at 63rd and Lex.  Fit, Fierce & Fabulous is one hour of serious toning interspersed with quick cardio intervals. 

Dawn's class is refreshingly gimmick free.  You won't find any surprises, just lots and lots of classic movements set to high energy music.  The class makes use of the step, free weights, body bars and medicine balls.  You'll want to grab a few sets of free weights, and possibly a few different body bars and medicine balls so that you can downgrade as your muscles fatigue.  Dawn is really into long series with multiple repetitions.

I really liked the intensity of the class and Dawn is a truly inspiring instructor.  (Get her to tell you her story at some point - she's really cool.)  I have no doubt that it's an effective workout; I'm still sore several days later.

My one issue with this class is the issue I tend to have with these types of conditioning classes.  I think it's pretty hard for the average bear, or even the above average bear, to do these kinds of movements (i.e. weighted squats or complex sequences of lunges in various directions) in rapid succession without sacrificing form.  Even the most attentive instructor can't watch everyone at once.  When I take this type of class, I try to stand somewhere where I can watch myself in a side mirror so that I know what my knees are up to.

Fit, Fierce and & Fabulous is followed by the aptly named "Abdominals" class.  The 30 minute follow up is a super straightforward, no frills abs class.   My abs were sore till yesterday.  Now, that's fierce.

-Gym Belle-