bicep.
. . .
Working out with somebody new for the first time is hard on everybody, no matter if 35 pound dumbbells represent their max curl, or their bare minimum—but you can bet the best way to impress Arnold over there is to get on the bench, and just rep, coleslaw or not.
Because any bodybuilder worth his salt respects drive and determination over forced negatives and three plates.
Now, mind you, three plates aren’t all bad, either, but the only way you’ll get there is making the kind of call-in-sick-tomorrow lifts you’ll need a spotter to cap off.
Think about it—nothing will make you feel better about adding that third plate than having someone there to share it with; someone who’s been there for the times two almost broke you; the times wife-beaters were just bad dudes on the six o’clock news, the times coleslaw made you think twice about smiling at Sally.
. . .
So all you new meatheads, don’t bother fixing your hair, and go say ‘hi’ to the monster trying to get his weight belt on. The worst thing that can happen is you walking away with an intimate knowledge of the mechanics of the Nike Deadlift Strap clasp.
Who knows—you could wind up with the single most important piece of equipment in that weight room—an extra pair of arms, twenty inches or otherwise.
. . .
And that—that—is worth all the coleslaw in the cafeteria.
What to Wear and (Infinitely More Important) What Not to Wear to the Gym.
As you’ve gathered by now, each and every gym (--or health club, or fitness farm; or whatever-the-marketing-guy-decided-to-call-it-to-hit-the-target-demographic--) is it’s own delicate little ecosystem.
As such, the slightest imbalance can throw the harmony of the entire structure out of whack; madness, destruction and cataclysmic change can—and will—occur.
Take, for example, the sight of you—New Gym Guy—in a see-through mesh tank top.
It might have seemed like a good idea, winking at you from some forgotten corner of your closet.
Hell, you tell yourself, you’ve been making progress.
And the girl who does kettlebell training two benches down hasn’t exactly noticed your ever-tighter fitting t-shirts, so, logically . . .
Don’t.
Ditto the denim cut-offs, rainbow-striped workout pants, army boots, and the any-everything you wore to the gym the day before.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re rocking a body fat percentage in the single or nowhere-near digits; some things just do not belong on the male body.
And yes, your tye-dye shirt is one of them.
Be mindful of your surroundings; study the delicate eco-system you inhabit, and react accordingly.
If you belong to one of those yuppie micro-fiber-everything because-sweat-isn’t-really-an-option cell-phone earpiece so-you-can-conference-call –during-cardio health ‘retreat centres,’then, yeah, dust off the earpiece and be a tool too.
Conversely, if the boys over at Body Barn like to accessorize powerlifting chalk with their wife-beaters, it couldn’t hurt for you to do the same.
Bear in mind that while, (by and large,) the majority of us at the gym are far too self-involved to notice anything you’re doing, the fastest way to change that (and, in doing so, throw the whole damn eco-system out of whack) is to march in tomorrow wearing your spandex bicycle shorts.
How to Tell If Your Trainer Is a Douchebag
Fact: Personal Training is expensive.
Fact: The Fitness Industry attracts a great deal of mono-syllabic, knuckle-dragging Meatheads (--and by no means am I excluding the mono-syllabic, knuckle-dragging Meatheads of the female persuasion.)
Fact: Some Personal Training Certifications can be completed and issued over the course of a weekend; some Certifications literally can be completed in one’s sleep. (As someone who has done both, I assure you this information is accurate.)
In order to protect your investment, here are some sure-fire tips to assure your Personal Trainer is, in no way, a Douchebag.
-Don’t Be Oversold By Scientific Jargon.
Chances are, you’ll have an opportunity to meet your Personal Trainer—usually free of charge—in order to hammer out the details of the torture (--in a good way--) to follow.
On the end of the trainer, it presents an opportunity to lay out what we sometimes refer to as your ‘Periodization’ program—a structured, professional breakdown of how and why you’ll be hitting the necessary benchmarks en route to your ultimate goal.
This presentation should be researched, professional, and slightly over your head (--because, to be honest, if you knew how to replace the pistons in your engine head, you’d save money on labour costs there, too--) in that you’re paying an experienced, qualified service professional for a result.
One you couldn’t neccesarily accomplish on your own.
You know this—
The trainer knows this—
They don’t need to beat you over the head with it.
See, any trainer worth their salt knows how to relate the association between Adenosine Tri-Phosphate and Lactic Acid Threshold (*told you) without appearing mysterious and aloof.
(*By the way, it’s like this—the more you curl a dumbbell, the harder it gets, and the more it burns like hell . . . because you’re exhausting the ATP and the Lactic Acid is the by-product.)
Having covered the goal from the trainer’s point of view . . .
-Yours? (Or, Personality is Important)
Is this trainer a douchebag?
Seriously.
As a trainer, I could have a Master’s Degree in Kinesiology, with a BA in Nutrition, and Certifications in everything from Senior’s Fitness to Exercise Nutrition.
If talking to me is about as stimulating as conversing with the drywall in your bathroom?
It’s never going to work.
No matter my qualifications, if I can’t relate to you—if I can’t get through to you—hell, if you don’t like me—then me barking at you to lift something slightly too-heavy for you, ten times, is never going to happen.
Bottom line—
--you have to like your trainer.
Personalities meshing probably
