With my hands on my knees and sweat dripping off my face onto the worn Astroturf I glance at my heart-rate monitor connected to my watch. It’s 176. For some reason I always run the numbers in my head. My heart is beating almost three times a second. I’m breathing as hard and as deeply as I can, I...

It’s been a month and for medically valid reasons (I have a signed doctor’s note) I haven’t been able to go to the Chris Frye Gymnasium and discothèque. There is, in fact, a disco ball hanging from the rafters, and Chris likes to rock some smooth Soul Train-esque tunes every once and again, but...

It’s not getting any easier. I’ve added muscle, can recover more quickly, and don’t get winded as easily, but my workouts at Chris’ gym seem to be just as difficult as they were when we started. It’s almost hard to understand. Let me explain. I’m used to working out by myself, at my comfy...

I have a confession to make. I’ve missed a couple sessions with Chris Frye. I know, it’s bad. The missed workouts were for good reasons, or at least, good enough. One was because we were going to the Clemson football game in Death Valley, and the other because I had this magazine to get out the door....

Not all the folks that come to work out at the Chris Frye gym have nicknames like “El Dingo Loco” or the “Leprechaun.” Testosterone is ever-present at the gym, but mixed in with the 140-pound Prowler sled and the ultimate fighters grunting in the multi-sided cage in the corner are pink boxing...

I’ve ended my last couple workouts at the Chris Frye Gym by lying completely still, on my back on the green Astroturf, waiting for my heart to slow. Completely spent and amazed that I was able to accomplish what was asked of me. But never more so than our last workout, on Monday. Matt and I were 30...