A Beginner’s Guide to the Gym: Everything You Need to Know

Although Eminem was talking about being nervous before walking into a rap battle, that phrase perfectly described scrawny, terrified, 16-year old Steve the first time I walked into a gym.

20 minutes later I found myself seriously thinking, “Uh oh! Crap. Am I going to die?”

I knew “going to the gym” and “working out” were things that were going to make my life better. I just didn’t know what I was supposed to DO in the gym. I walked in with no plan and left an hour later with a bruised ego and bruised rib cage.

Maybe this is your first Nerd Fitness article. Perhaps you’re thinking about going to the gym but are afraid, you only use the treadmill in your gym, or you’ve been reading Nerd Fitness for years and finally decided, “I’m going to start going to the gym because I know ‘strength training’ and ‘lifting weights’ is good for me.”

The Wolverine Workout: Get Strong Like Logan!

YES! Another Wolverine movie! LOGAN is now showing in theaters nationwide, and I couldn’t be more excited.

If you’re like many people, Wolverine is one of your favorite X-men (especially for short guys like myself!), and nothing is more awesome than seeing the Little Runt rage around and beat up bad guys.

To get you ready and pumped for the movie – more so than taping silverware to your hands – we’ve got a fun workout for you!

Now yes, you can absolutely find Hugh Jackman’s exact workout online. It’s excellent for what he needed to do to get ready for the movie role – a bodybuilding type workout that packed muscle where it mattered for film (chest, shoulders, arms) while giving a good strength base with squats and deadlifts (and making sure Wolverine wasn’t walking on chicken legs).

Shine a Damn Light

Time has no meaning in this godforsaken cell.

How long have I been sitting here?

Hours?

Days?

The windowless walls feel like they’re closing in around me. A single neon light above gives the room an eerie glow and makes every shadow a distorted monstrosity. There I sit, alone, nervously awaiting whoever comes through a lone door in the corner.

Next to me, a small table full of sharp and twisted instruments that will surely be used to inflict excruciating amounts of pain.

I tell myself to not look at them, and yet I can’t look away.

As I silently curse my predicament, I can’t help but think, “please get this over with.” After all, waiting is the worst part.

Actually, it’s the second worst. The worst, of course, is knowing that I have nobody to blame for this predicament but myself. Afterall, it was my choices that led me here.

The door opens and a woman enters. She quietly puts on a pair of rubber gloves and gives me a look that turns my blood cold. I am convinced her overly pleasant smile is hiding an absolutely masochistic psychosis.