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how many of you guys have trained in a real hardcore gym?
- Thread starter camshaft
- Start date
they have a wolgangs, ironhorse, powerhouse gym and of course golds. the first 3 are all hardcore ie; the smallest solid dumbells are 120's all the way up to 250. real york plates, chalk, the smell..the whole nine. used to hit these before i got married and had kids. then it was to golds. I bring my mp3 player and drown out the problems that plague the popular gyms.
A
Anthony Roberts
Guest
I trained at SouthSide Gym, in CT with Eric Cressey.
Never heard of it? Check this out:
http://elitefts.com/documents/south_side_gym.htm
Never heard of it? Check this out:
http://elitefts.com/documents/south_side_gym.htm
DannoMight
New member
There's not too many hardcore gyms around these days just hardcore people. Thats what makes a place hardcore. I train at a golds where there is a mix of bodybuilders, senior citizens, and there's also a physical therapy office at the gym. Most of the times you just have find hardcore within yourself and in your training. Its just a shame that you have to resort to ipods and tune people out when you should be feeding off others energy and encourage others around to train hard.
solidspine
New member
Lets see, oh, that would have been this morning, 24 hour fitness, Long Beach California.
joetrisman
New member
Wow.mr.nitro said:
Anywho, my gym isn't exactly hardcore, but it is all that's left after the last hardcore gym closed down years ago. There are very few women and I'd say the avg guy in there juices and has 18" biceps. I think our dumbbells go to 220. Kinda sucks though as the owners try to reach broader to women and old people with the recently addition of an assload of cardio equipment and thus only have on decently heavy music a quarter of the day. It kills me when I forget my ipod and I'm hearing 80s hair band rock
jerichohill
New member
I think every gym is what you make it.
A
Anthony Roberts
Guest
Currently I do most of my training at a United States Military Academy where I am employed as a coach. I suppose that's pretty hardcore...
esanchez1277
New member
I went to Tito's gym in Brownsville TX. 5 miles from mex. Tito was a power lifter. The gym had no air conditioner in 90 degree heat just big fans. A reciever with four speaker cabinets blairing. And an abundance of gear! I now go to lifetime fitness, not hardcore at all but nice views.
BigCracker
New member
I'm the most hardcore guy at Curves.
I used to workout at General Fitness(used to be called Body Building Plus) out in Fall River, MA where I used to live. I guess the new owners decided to change the name to attract a different crowd but that didn't work. The music, smell, size, different types of machinery, the majority of the people are on. You name it and it was there. The place is so fucking big and has so much equipment that you never have to wait for anything. Then I moved to Boston and it seems like there are more fags walking around in spandex than there are people working out. Man I miss that place!!!
metalgodz1
New member
22yrs ago ,It was steve davis gym in panorama city, in the san fernando valley,ca. Iwalk in and just felt alive inside,the energy was incredible, The first person I see is Albert beckels ,working out by him self doing 180lbs dumbell flys ,I think it was just before the senior mr olyimpia,now that was inspiration,he had the body of a 30 yr old. Watching guys like that Is how I learned to workout,no frills. Its so artifical in most gyms today,with their metro personal trainers , cutting hair one day 8 hrs latter, their a trainer with a certificate in charge of your transformation, lol ! One lesson I learned from albert ,Is be humble,be teachable, think, train like its your last day on planet earth,laugh ,especially at your self, refuse to blame anybody but your self for percived failure,and what ever you do do it with passion ! Staying on purpose. 
Cauliflower Ear
New member
Golds gym venice beach...but the toughest guys are at The Rickson Gracie academy...where im on the mat 6 days a week
Castro_bigdog
New member
I used to train at a gym named The Wait Station, man I miss it...
Rusted waits, blown speakers blaring hard core Rock, it smelled like sh*t in there and the best is the bent bench bars from the power lifters that come in once a week on a Sunday and lift a sh*t load of wait...
Don't have air cond. so in the summer it got hot as fu*k in there, Oh Well now in days I train at the gym at work..........
Rusted waits, blown speakers blaring hard core Rock, it smelled like sh*t in there and the best is the bent bench bars from the power lifters that come in once a week on a Sunday and lift a sh*t load of wait...
Don't have air cond. so in the summer it got hot as fu*k in there, Oh Well now in days I train at the gym at work..........
frankmasterpiece
New member
my gym use to be hardcore until the high school kids invade the place, porkys gym miami,fla ...
Last edited:
Tony104104
New member
I train at Iron Island which was more hardcore when they had the powerlifting team there...Before that I lifted at powerhouse in Da Bronx...Both gyms are pretty good and have a descent amount of weight! Oh and no one complains about chalk!
Castro_bigdog
New member
AAP said:
(weight) My spelling sucks lol...........
BigCracker
New member
al420 said:
I workout in a thong and flip flops and sweat like a beast all over the equpment and never use a towel-and nobody says shit to me. So there.
TrenAman
New member
Used to workout at The Warehouse in Arlington TX, THat is where Ron COleman always worked out. It has been a couple years, not sure if he is still there. But that gym was basically a freaking barn\sauna with death metal music kicking. Pretty cool, moved and attend a closer gym now.
trained in a gym in Caterat NJ. Went to see a very good powerlifter so he could teach me a few things....It was in a garage, a power rack, a mono lift and benches. That was it. Oh yea and the batroom door was off the hinges, you had to literally place to door there. LMAO i miss it too
Speedy's Fitness Center. Powerlifting/BB gym back when I started in...man 1982! Then Powerhouse Gym Eastgate Cincinnati. Hardest I have ever trained in my life took place there. 5- 500+ pound benchers! 3 Mr Cincinnati's and we all trained together! Powerstation Gym in Middletown Ohio....wow what a place! There is a sign in the gym on a stretching machine that says "The next MOTHER FUCKER that removes this pad from this machine can start walking their ass out the door!" Thats when you know you have found "THE" spot. 3 monolifts, 3 leg presses, six cages, 200# Db's yeah...thats the SPOT!
Quad
Quad
txbondsman
New member
"back in the day" as the young people say, I lifted in makeshift gym in one of buildngs here in town. It had no AC and was usuallyaround 90 degrees in the summer, one small heater, and just basic weights that had been collected from various places. You had to bring everything like towels, water, etc. it was just a place to workout, no amenities. It stunk like the others mentioned, probably worse. It did have mirrors all over the place, not many matched, but they used whatever they had. I live in a small town so it's hard to keep membership so we all ran the place for the guy who actually owned the place as to keep expenses down. Funny how things change, now I work out at a rehab fitness center ith senior citizens walking the track....
Back in the early 80's " Lifters Gym" in Waterford Mi
Another one was on the island of Aruba used while on Vacation but hardcore.
I did find a decent gym on Catalina Island. That is my #1 vacation stop now a days. Great hiking and getting pumped while bringing in 300lb Mako Sharks. What a combo.
DBAY
Another one was on the island of Aruba used while on Vacation but hardcore.
I did find a decent gym on Catalina Island. That is my #1 vacation stop now a days. Great hiking and getting pumped while bringing in 300lb Mako Sharks. What a combo.
DBAY
ViperHMS
Well-known member
There used to be a great place in my town years and years ago that was owned by Kaz and it was def a hardcore gym in my eyes. It was cool to get to see a lot of the weird weights and contraptions that i'd see they guys on Worlds Strongest Man lugging around in the competition, in my own gym. This place was in the back half of a warehouse and had everything I needed. We even had two treadmills and a bike, just enuf for a few folks to use when needed. Our water was supplied via a hose outside that was used to fill those 5gal jugs for the water coolers.
Uhhhh if you mean by Hardcore, all the gay sex going on in the locker rooms, so much that had to remove shower curtains and post a security guard, then Yes.
If you mean one that welcomes the use of chalk, and plays music other than today's top 10, then NO - and yes, I am disgruntled about it.
* Luckily the location I transferred my membership to has much less of these worries, but still plays total SHIT music and does not allow the use of chalk.
If you mean one that welcomes the use of chalk, and plays music other than today's top 10, then NO - and yes, I am disgruntled about it.
* Luckily the location I transferred my membership to has much less of these worries, but still plays total SHIT music and does not allow the use of chalk.
blackpanther
New member
The most hardcore gym I ever had the pleasure of training in was Dorian Yates' Temple Gym in Birmingham UK when on vacation. Finding the gym was a challenge in its own right... The entrance was in some back alley, and you descend down a flight of steps to enter... Inside it is like a small dungeon and I thought it was the best atmosphere ever. It didn't hurt having hired Dorian as a personal trainer for the session either.. 
safety4lyfe
New member
ive trained at "THE GARAGE GYM" in surrey BC...
its pretty sweet...big dudes made of mass, shake bar w/ restaurant for steak and chicken meals after workout, and mr. (and some mrs.) universe's around the whole gym.
gets me pumped when Arnold is looking down at me....kinda like a jesus in church
its pretty sweet...big dudes made of mass, shake bar w/ restaurant for steak and chicken meals after workout, and mr. (and some mrs.) universe's around the whole gym.
gets me pumped when Arnold is looking down at me....kinda like a jesus in church
bsdgeek
New member
the gym i currently workout at is pretty cool, yes it has it's share of weenies, but they play that old 80's hard rock in the morning, ya know, with loud heavy guitar, helps the mood. but haven't been in a real hardcore gym since my time in the Marine Corps(88-92). We had a discussion the other day about another gym that says stuff to you if you grunt or make noises when you workout, I believe I'd slap the shit out of someone for telling me to be quiet after repping 425 on squats, I mean- is it possible to do heavy squats without making a little noise? WTF???
and yeah guys, I do know what you mean about these new found pussy ass gyms, I mean- who the fuck needs an air conditioner when they workout?? You're fuckin there to sweat dammit, not look good while you get your shit on. Hell, most of the gyms in the corp only had one of those big 5 ft tall red fans, or maybe one of those little white ones that move back and forth. hmm.....the good ole days....
and yeah guys, I do know what you mean about these new found pussy ass gyms, I mean- who the fuck needs an air conditioner when they workout?? You're fuckin there to sweat dammit, not look good while you get your shit on. Hell, most of the gyms in the corp only had one of those big 5 ft tall red fans, or maybe one of those little white ones that move back and forth. hmm.....the good ole days....
b_light
New member
Mine used to be hardcore but times have changed. There are still a few hardcore guys there but not like it was. Been to baystate in worcester, now id call that a hardcore gym but in reality its a shithole, theres a difference between hardcore spit and sawdust and shithole with old homemade equiptment thats been there since the 70's.
My gym way hard core.........PLANET FITNESS!! Ugh, there are no standard benches, only smith machines. Dumbells only go up to 60lbs. Mostly machines, which I've pretty much maxed out all of them. I recently moved, and there are only two gyms to choose from. The other is pretty hard core, but they wanted $800 to join, plus $200 enrollment fee, then it's $65 a month....F that!
blackpanther
New member
Apexx said:
Sounds like a load of shit to me!! My home gym is loads better than that place the way you describe it.
This has been posted before but considering the topic, I thought it worthy of a reprise.
FINDING HARDCORE BODYBUILDING
A Gym Story
Nelson Montana
It was still bitterly cold when the snow had finally
stopped falling. As I peered outside my bedroom window,
I could see that the roads were as good as closed.
Nothing short of a heavy duty SUV could work its way
through what looked like two or three feet of thickly
packed powder. It was worse than yesterday, which was
worse than the day before. Nevertheless, I wasn't going
to let it stop me. Today, I had to get to the gym --
anyway I could.
Just to make sure they were open for business, I gave a
call. One ring. Two rings. Then a voice:
"Hello, Bellrose Gym. Joe speaking. Can I help you?"
"Yes, are you open today?" I asked.
The somewhat agitated voice at the other end answered,
"Unfortunately, we are. Can you believe it? I mean,
who's going to come out on a day like this? If I didn't
live next door to this place, there's no way I'd be
here. The joint's deserted."
"But you are open?" I reiterated.
"Yeah, yeah. Regular hours today. Don't ask me why."
"Thanks. See ya." I hung up the phone and picked up my
gym bag. I was on my way.
I set my mind to the fact that walking through the snow
drifts would make a nice warm up, as if the expression
can be applied to such a situation. On any other day,
the three quarter of a mile distance to the gym was a
piece of cake. Today, it was going to be rough. But I
wanted to go. My body craved activity. I needed to lift
iron and no excuse was going to stop me.
The Bellrose Gym isn't what one would call a "hardcore"
club. It's of the commercial variety designed for
casual fitness seekers and overweight housewives. The
layout is made up of mostly stationary bikes,
treadmills and a smattering of exercise machines. Half
of the floor space is reserved for various types of
aerobics classes. But it was downstairs, in the
basement, where I was headed -- dark, dank and reserved
for anybody who really wanted to train. It had weights,
benches and more weights. Nothing fancy. Yet, it did
have a power cage and dumbells that went up to 100
pounds and it welcomed anyone who chose to forgo the
niceties of the main floor and enter into the "pain
zone." As grungy as it was, the basement wasn't a
bodybuilders' hang out in the traditional sense. There
was never any talk of competing, nor did anyone of any
prominence train there. I doubt if any of the members
were juicing or had ever so much as seen the stuff.
Still, I've never known a group of guys that worked
harder and more seriously. Some of the patrons had
amazing physiques -- thick, vascular and defined. But
even those who weren't genetically blessed, still
attacked the iron with ferocity.
When I finally finished my trek though the suburban
tundra, I stomped as much of the icy sleet off my boots
as I could and walked though the doors of the club. As
far as I could see, there wasn't a single person in the
place. A lone figure, who I assumed was "Joe" was
sitting at the front desk reading a newspaper, arms
folded, hunched forward. As I approached him, he
maintained his relaxed posture except that his eyes
glanced sideways in my direction.
"You're the one who called?" he asked without much
enthusiasm.
"Who else?"
Joe was indifferent to my attempt at humor through the
usage of stating the obvious. As I went to take my
membership card from my spongy soaked wallet, he looked
back down at the paper and grumbled, "Go on in."
It was eerie perusing the gym floor. The usually
boisterous aerobics room was closed. A notice on the
wall stated; "No classes today due to the inclement
weather." Where there was typically several people
waiting for a bike, a custodian was getting in some
clean-up time. The treadmills were vacant. I had free
reign to any machine I wanted. I walked downstairs.
I anticipated the stark absence of clanging plates and
the mournful groans that were ever present in the
basement whenever someone attempted to hoist a poundage
that refused to budge. Instead, I noticed something
surprising. There were about eight or nine people who
also made it out into the gym and down to the dungeon.
Maybe it wasn't so surprising after all.
I wasn't especially close with anyone there but I'd
seen them all before. They were the regulars -- the
guys who you noticed but didn't necessarily associate
with. One thing was certain though. They were serious
lifters.
Anyone who couldn't hang would be upstairs, not here.
As I got into my routine, it was hard not to
acknowledge the others who were also training. It
wasn't as if we could maintain anonymity through the
din and congestion of a "normal" training day. We were
it. I gave a knowing nod to one of the guys passing me
as he grabbed a set of heavy dumbells from the rack. As
I started my next set, a peculiar sensation came over
me. I felt as if I was suddenly being judged by my
peers. Under everyday circumstances, I'm oblivious to
what anyone thinks about my training or the poundage
that I use. Bodybuilding, for me, is a solitary
activity. It's my therapy. My meditation. But today, I
truly felt as if I was among a brethren. These men were
here for the same reason I was. We were all, at least
in one way, the same.
I racked the 45 pound dumbells and picked up the 60s.
The next set, I went even heavier. I wanted to make
this workout count. Halfway into the session, there was
an undeniable electricity in the air. Everyone was
pushing harder than normal. It was as if this select
group had become one mind. Bars bent under the pressure
of accumulating plates. Masses of metal defied gravity
through the sheer force of human sinew. At one point,
I noticed a trainee staring at a dauntingly heavy
barbell. It was almost like he was communicating with
it -- daring it to beat him as it had done so many
times before. Suddenly, he lunged down, grasped the
bar, and cleaned it to his shoulders. Just then, he let
out a bellow of agony. No one flinched. He's got it. We
all knew it. He then pushed the weight overhead,
shaking under the pressure. `Nice lift,' I thought to
myself. When he returned the bar to his shoulders, he
took a deep breath and shouted out loud, "That's ONE."
I was amused and impressed. He knocked out three more
reps. That's the way you do it.
The energy in the room was building and I had ceaseless
enthusiasm for the rest of the workout, lifting more
weight than ever before. My usual rep range of 8 to 10
was no longer the desired number. In fact, I stopped
counting. I just kept going. At the end of a grueling
set of seated presses, one of the members stood behind
me as I was reaching failure. He shouted; "Come on! You
got four more!" For some inexplicable reason, I
believed him. At least, I wanted to. So I strained and
stressed and with every ounce of strength I could
muster, and with just the slightest bit of help from my
comrade, I made that fourth rep. And then a fifth --
followed by partial reps at the top of the movement
until it felt as if my entire torso was on fire! When
every last bit of energy left my body, I slammed the
bells down to the floor and gasped for air. It felt
good.
It was then when my acquaintance made what I'm sure was
meant to be nothing more than a passing remark, but it
had as much poignancy as anything I've ever heard. He
said;
"Only the warriors are out today."
I was too fatigued to respond, but I concurred. I also
took it as the highest compliment a bodybuilder could
receive.
That workout took place back in the winter of 1996 and
it was, in many ways, the benchmark from which I've
judged all my workouts since. I don't always succeed,
but if I had never pushed as hard as I did that day, I
would never know what I was capable of. It's amazing
how inspiration can come from the most unlikely of
scenarios.
I've since moved from the neighborhood where the
Bellrose Gym resides. I now live in New York City and
have access to some of the best facilities in the
world, short of Venice Beach. It isn't unusual to see a
top pro training right beside you on any given day. The
bodies that frequent these high tech establishments are
a blatant disclosure to the availability of anabolics.
It's all around. Freaky musculature is almost
commonplace.
Some newcomers know of my writings in the muscle
magazines and it's for that reason that I'm often
asked; "Where's the best, most serious gym in the
city?" Neophytes want to know where the big boys
congregate and where they can score some steroids.
Aspiring competitors hope that I can hook them up in a
place where they can learn a few secrets -- something
that will give them that extra edge.
By far, the most asked question is; "Where can I go
where it's really hardcore?"
And whenever I receive that ubiquitous query, all I can
think of is a cold snowy day some time ago, back in the
basement of an obscure gym filled with unknown
bodybuilders sweating and straining to get just one
more rep for no reason, other than to do it.
Where is it hardcore? Hardcore is indeed a place, but
don't try looking for it. It doesn't have a name and
it doesn't have an address. You won't find it in the
phone book, on the Internet, through a personal
recommendation or with the right connections. Hardcore
is in the heart. And as long as you have an intense
desire to train harder and heavier than you did the
last time out, everytime out...you're in the right
place.
FINDING HARDCORE BODYBUILDING
A Gym Story
Nelson Montana
It was still bitterly cold when the snow had finally
stopped falling. As I peered outside my bedroom window,
I could see that the roads were as good as closed.
Nothing short of a heavy duty SUV could work its way
through what looked like two or three feet of thickly
packed powder. It was worse than yesterday, which was
worse than the day before. Nevertheless, I wasn't going
to let it stop me. Today, I had to get to the gym --
anyway I could.
Just to make sure they were open for business, I gave a
call. One ring. Two rings. Then a voice:
"Hello, Bellrose Gym. Joe speaking. Can I help you?"
"Yes, are you open today?" I asked.
The somewhat agitated voice at the other end answered,
"Unfortunately, we are. Can you believe it? I mean,
who's going to come out on a day like this? If I didn't
live next door to this place, there's no way I'd be
here. The joint's deserted."
"But you are open?" I reiterated.
"Yeah, yeah. Regular hours today. Don't ask me why."
"Thanks. See ya." I hung up the phone and picked up my
gym bag. I was on my way.
I set my mind to the fact that walking through the snow
drifts would make a nice warm up, as if the expression
can be applied to such a situation. On any other day,
the three quarter of a mile distance to the gym was a
piece of cake. Today, it was going to be rough. But I
wanted to go. My body craved activity. I needed to lift
iron and no excuse was going to stop me.
The Bellrose Gym isn't what one would call a "hardcore"
club. It's of the commercial variety designed for
casual fitness seekers and overweight housewives. The
layout is made up of mostly stationary bikes,
treadmills and a smattering of exercise machines. Half
of the floor space is reserved for various types of
aerobics classes. But it was downstairs, in the
basement, where I was headed -- dark, dank and reserved
for anybody who really wanted to train. It had weights,
benches and more weights. Nothing fancy. Yet, it did
have a power cage and dumbells that went up to 100
pounds and it welcomed anyone who chose to forgo the
niceties of the main floor and enter into the "pain
zone." As grungy as it was, the basement wasn't a
bodybuilders' hang out in the traditional sense. There
was never any talk of competing, nor did anyone of any
prominence train there. I doubt if any of the members
were juicing or had ever so much as seen the stuff.
Still, I've never known a group of guys that worked
harder and more seriously. Some of the patrons had
amazing physiques -- thick, vascular and defined. But
even those who weren't genetically blessed, still
attacked the iron with ferocity.
When I finally finished my trek though the suburban
tundra, I stomped as much of the icy sleet off my boots
as I could and walked though the doors of the club. As
far as I could see, there wasn't a single person in the
place. A lone figure, who I assumed was "Joe" was
sitting at the front desk reading a newspaper, arms
folded, hunched forward. As I approached him, he
maintained his relaxed posture except that his eyes
glanced sideways in my direction.
"You're the one who called?" he asked without much
enthusiasm.
"Who else?"
Joe was indifferent to my attempt at humor through the
usage of stating the obvious. As I went to take my
membership card from my spongy soaked wallet, he looked
back down at the paper and grumbled, "Go on in."
It was eerie perusing the gym floor. The usually
boisterous aerobics room was closed. A notice on the
wall stated; "No classes today due to the inclement
weather." Where there was typically several people
waiting for a bike, a custodian was getting in some
clean-up time. The treadmills were vacant. I had free
reign to any machine I wanted. I walked downstairs.
I anticipated the stark absence of clanging plates and
the mournful groans that were ever present in the
basement whenever someone attempted to hoist a poundage
that refused to budge. Instead, I noticed something
surprising. There were about eight or nine people who
also made it out into the gym and down to the dungeon.
Maybe it wasn't so surprising after all.
I wasn't especially close with anyone there but I'd
seen them all before. They were the regulars -- the
guys who you noticed but didn't necessarily associate
with. One thing was certain though. They were serious
lifters.
Anyone who couldn't hang would be upstairs, not here.
As I got into my routine, it was hard not to
acknowledge the others who were also training. It
wasn't as if we could maintain anonymity through the
din and congestion of a "normal" training day. We were
it. I gave a knowing nod to one of the guys passing me
as he grabbed a set of heavy dumbells from the rack. As
I started my next set, a peculiar sensation came over
me. I felt as if I was suddenly being judged by my
peers. Under everyday circumstances, I'm oblivious to
what anyone thinks about my training or the poundage
that I use. Bodybuilding, for me, is a solitary
activity. It's my therapy. My meditation. But today, I
truly felt as if I was among a brethren. These men were
here for the same reason I was. We were all, at least
in one way, the same.
I racked the 45 pound dumbells and picked up the 60s.
The next set, I went even heavier. I wanted to make
this workout count. Halfway into the session, there was
an undeniable electricity in the air. Everyone was
pushing harder than normal. It was as if this select
group had become one mind. Bars bent under the pressure
of accumulating plates. Masses of metal defied gravity
through the sheer force of human sinew. At one point,
I noticed a trainee staring at a dauntingly heavy
barbell. It was almost like he was communicating with
it -- daring it to beat him as it had done so many
times before. Suddenly, he lunged down, grasped the
bar, and cleaned it to his shoulders. Just then, he let
out a bellow of agony. No one flinched. He's got it. We
all knew it. He then pushed the weight overhead,
shaking under the pressure. `Nice lift,' I thought to
myself. When he returned the bar to his shoulders, he
took a deep breath and shouted out loud, "That's ONE."
I was amused and impressed. He knocked out three more
reps. That's the way you do it.
The energy in the room was building and I had ceaseless
enthusiasm for the rest of the workout, lifting more
weight than ever before. My usual rep range of 8 to 10
was no longer the desired number. In fact, I stopped
counting. I just kept going. At the end of a grueling
set of seated presses, one of the members stood behind
me as I was reaching failure. He shouted; "Come on! You
got four more!" For some inexplicable reason, I
believed him. At least, I wanted to. So I strained and
stressed and with every ounce of strength I could
muster, and with just the slightest bit of help from my
comrade, I made that fourth rep. And then a fifth --
followed by partial reps at the top of the movement
until it felt as if my entire torso was on fire! When
every last bit of energy left my body, I slammed the
bells down to the floor and gasped for air. It felt
good.
It was then when my acquaintance made what I'm sure was
meant to be nothing more than a passing remark, but it
had as much poignancy as anything I've ever heard. He
said;
"Only the warriors are out today."
I was too fatigued to respond, but I concurred. I also
took it as the highest compliment a bodybuilder could
receive.
That workout took place back in the winter of 1996 and
it was, in many ways, the benchmark from which I've
judged all my workouts since. I don't always succeed,
but if I had never pushed as hard as I did that day, I
would never know what I was capable of. It's amazing
how inspiration can come from the most unlikely of
scenarios.
I've since moved from the neighborhood where the
Bellrose Gym resides. I now live in New York City and
have access to some of the best facilities in the
world, short of Venice Beach. It isn't unusual to see a
top pro training right beside you on any given day. The
bodies that frequent these high tech establishments are
a blatant disclosure to the availability of anabolics.
It's all around. Freaky musculature is almost
commonplace.
Some newcomers know of my writings in the muscle
magazines and it's for that reason that I'm often
asked; "Where's the best, most serious gym in the
city?" Neophytes want to know where the big boys
congregate and where they can score some steroids.
Aspiring competitors hope that I can hook them up in a
place where they can learn a few secrets -- something
that will give them that extra edge.
By far, the most asked question is; "Where can I go
where it's really hardcore?"
And whenever I receive that ubiquitous query, all I can
think of is a cold snowy day some time ago, back in the
basement of an obscure gym filled with unknown
bodybuilders sweating and straining to get just one
more rep for no reason, other than to do it.
Where is it hardcore? Hardcore is indeed a place, but
don't try looking for it. It doesn't have a name and
it doesn't have an address. You won't find it in the
phone book, on the Internet, through a personal
recommendation or with the right connections. Hardcore
is in the heart. And as long as you have an intense
desire to train harder and heavier than you did the
last time out, everytime out...you're in the right
place.
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