Work it Out, Girl!

20th November, 2009

Today, you’re getting a really long article. This is both because I am full of stories, and because next week, I’m going to ditch you for a whole week. But you’ll read about that on Monday, so don’t get too sad yet. Here’s a nice long one to tide you over;

These girls clearly all work out. Note that I am not in the picture, as I don't do that.

Anyone who knows me knows that I will do just about anything to avoid working out in a traditional gym. I hate to get tired and dirty, and I only run if I am being chased, or if I happen to see Robert Pattinson jogging past me. I thought I was being such a grown-up last year when I joined my local Crunch outpost, and hired my lovely trainer, a large, ripped man with dreads named Tyrone to kick my butt into shape. I specifically requested a large, scary dude to train me, instead of one of the adorable and peppy (and also extremely toned) young lady trainers that the head of the gym suggested. Why, you ask? Simple, I have NO motivation to work out. Ever. I needed the fear of G-d put into me just to get my butt moving. I knew I’d get annoyed with a girl telling me what to do (sorry, not sexist, just saying, I’m really not scared of those girls.)

So, off Tyrone and I went on our training program, complete with him calling me HOURS ahead of training sessions to remind me that the T-Money training program is not a sprint, it’s a marathon, and I WILL be there or be killed. This was good, I showed up, and I *mostly* did what I was supposed to. I complained a LOT, but as long as he promised a 5-minute back massage at the end of the hour, I cooperated. Then, Madoff effed over about a zillion people, myself included, and I decided personal training was no longer in the budget. At the end of my package, I left Tyrone and Crunch behind. I didn’t miss the 8-block walk in the middle of winter. It’s not the distance as much as the snow and sleet I had to brave to get there. What do I look like, a mailman?

Next came Warriors. It was AMAZING. Alex Fell and Ruben Belliard at Warrior Fitness Boot Camp kicked my butt from here to saturday three days a week for three months. Except when I “had” to go to the hamptons, or i got sick, or I was sleepy. But mostly, I showed up, and did what they said. Reason being; they are both large, scary former Marines. When they say Jump, you might complain, but you can either do it or be punished. As with most privileges, there is a significant cost to their program as well. There is no question in my mind that it is a far better deal than many workout programs, especially personal trainers, because when averaged out, the cost per session is far lower.

Depending on the package you purchase, an hour with the boys in their gym in Harold Square might run you about $40, as compared to perhaps $120 for a personal training session. The activities themselves are much more entertaining than repetitive work on gym machinery, and they work parts of your body that standard weight machines simply cannot. Example? I can scale a 6 foot wall without hand or footholds. True story, yo. There are monkey bars, which you think are a cute grade-school flashback, until you realize how HARD they are to work now that you’re bigger! There are tunnels and tires and weight bars, and stairs. Endless stairs. Woven in with the cardio and the strength training, you still get WAY more one on one attention than you ever wanted (don’t try to hide, they’ll find you,) and probably the best work-out you’ve ever had. Plus, if you show up at more or less the same times throughout the week, you get to know your fellow warriors, and come to support each other through the process.

Despite my innate hatred of breaking a sweat for athletic purposes, the guys at WFBC did a fantastic job, and I always left feeling like I had made a great accomplishment. In fact, after class, I was usually so hyped up that I bypassed the direct subway to my apartment and walked the mile and a half back to cool down. Unfortunately, due to the residual effects of the economic situation I’m in now, I had to leave them after my three months were up, and have not had the opportunity to sign up again. I will someday, for sure! Until then, I’ll just wear my WFBC uniform shirts and feel like a badass. [Oh, and by the way, despite their ability to turn on the official and professional bad-ass-edness during class, Alex and Ruben are both friendly, not scary, and willing to create a workout program that will fit anyone's needs. Case-in-point? I have bad joints and asthma, and they always found things for me to do without hurting myself. If you join, tell them I sent you, I could use a free class or two!]

So, where does this leave me now? Well, we know I’m not going back to Crunch, it’s too far away, and walking into the sea of machinery on my own just makes me sleepy, not motivated. WFBC is out of reach at the moment, and my 16-unit walkup apartment building doesn’t exactly have an exercise room. (or laundry, or a doorman, or a package room, or a lobby, and it’s been covered in giant scaffolding for a year that blocks all of my windows.. but hey, who’s counting.) I hate all gyms anyway, but there are a couple of things I like. Despite my lack of any particular skill, I love dancing. Just rocking out with friends in the club is fun, not so tiring, and calorie burning when NOT coupled with many sugary cocktails. I also enjoy activities that do not require me to wear pants. (this doesn’t mean I’m going nude, just that I own an excessive amount of what one might call “bootie shorts,” considering they’re pretty much only socially acceptable on Halloween.) Ok, so where can I go with these facts?

TA DAHHHH! Behold, the X-Pole. This is just about to become the latest addition to my hamster-cage of an NYC apartment. Taking up a very small amount of space, and for the cost of around three months at a gym, or three personal training sessions, the X-Pole is just, as they say in Minnesota, a Heck-uv-a deal. In the UK, pole dancing is already looked upon as just as legitimate a form of personal exercise as gymnastics or yoga. There doesn’t need to be a sexual connotation affiliated with it. Instead. the pole offers a chance to work on your balance, tone, flexibility, and strength. Like WFBC, pole training works muscles that won’t get attention in repetitive workouts on stationary equipment. The use of your own body for resistance is more natural, and the strength you acquire will be throughout your arms, core, legs, and back without having to worry whether you did enough “reps” on any one given station in the circuit training facilities. Let’s be honest, sexual or not, pole dancing is also an excellent party trick to be pulled out if you find yourself doing late-night at 1Oak and you’re occupying one of the back tables. (There are poles. Not that I’ve checked.)

Although I have no motivation for repetitive activity on machines or with weights in a gym, I’m pretty excited about this. It will give me something to do when I am home in the evenings, or on rainy weekends, or hibernating as I sometimes do when the weather gets too awful to venture out in the winter. Aside from the initial investment, I need no additional equipment, and although I can optionally attend classes at several venues in NYC from $20-$40 each, or purchase DVDs of pole lessons, I needn’t do either of those if I choose not to. Self teaching is made very easy with the help of YouTube, and other websites that have gathered together lessons from pros and amateurs alike. All I really need is some good music, and perhaps a Redbull to get me going. There isn’t really a “wrong” way to train on the pole, so long as you are safe, and careful. If you make up something that looks good, you’ve either stumbled on a trick that you would’ve been taught in class, or you just invented something totally new and different.

My pole will be portable. This means that I can install it with no harm or damage to my apartment floor or ceiling. With several height-adjusting sections, I can use it on any ceiling ranging from 8-11 feet or somewhere thereabouts. Should I really get the desire, I can even pack it up and take it with me on a trip. In our old apartment in Madison, Wisconsin, Kristie and I had installed a peek-a-boo pole. Don’t get one of those. For around a hundred bucks, you can purchase a great prop for leaning on and taking photos with your friends before you go out. If you want to do anything else, you can’t. The pole falls over if you try to spin, jump, or invert, rendering it pretty much useless. I’ve done a LOT of research, and I know that X-pole is the ideal brand for a non-permanent installation. Plus, I spoke with them and they were really helpful in figuring out what configuration I need to order, and how to best start off as a pole beginner.

And so, my dear NP’s, this begins a new workout chapter in my life. My goal, of course, is to come out looking like a Victoria’s Secret Angel, while still eating cookies and pasta whenever I want. This is only chapter one, as I’ll be keeping y’all posted on the hijinx to come. I’m hoping that by the time I return from Minnesota, my X-pole will be eagerly awaiting me, at the concierge desk in my sister’s building, what with me not having one, and all. Stay tuned!