Drake definitely did not disappoint Tuesday night at the NC Music Factory’s Fillmore. It was my first time seeing the rapper LIVE and my first time at the Fillmore. It’s a cool venue with a Myrtle Beach House of Blues feel… except with a touch more class… LOVE the chandeliers hanging all over the ceilings.

Francis and the Lights warmed up the crowd for Drake… an interesting pick… in case you haven’t heard of them… they’re an Indie Pop group… where the lead singer bops around stage in sunglasses and a blazer. But Drake has actually collaborated with the group on some of his work for his new album- Thank Me Later… Also helping to produce that album that drops June 15th… Lil Wayne, Kanye West, and Timbaland- among others.

As for Drake… he opened up with ‘Forever’… the whole crowd singing along… “Last name ever… first name greatest… like a sprained ankle, boy I ain’t nothin to play with.” Take a look at the iPhone video I shot while there.

Some of my faves from Drake… ‘Successful’ and ‘Best I Ever Had’… but what I was really looking forward to was hearing what we’ll be hearing more of in less than a month. Just as Drake is telling us about a collaboration with Alicia Keys… ‘Fireworks’… song number one off his new album… a fight breaks out about 10 feet away from us. Ughhhhhh… So of course everyone is going nuts… looking for the exits… guys are guarding all of us girls… Thanks for ruining the experience ladies… yes ladies… It was a cat fight that caused the crowd to part like the Red Sea! Annoying… But security escorted them out and it was short lived. Don’t you wish I’d thought to grab my iphone camera for that one too! LOL

All in all… my first Drake and first Fillmore experience was F-U-N… and I’m looking forward to June 20th… Jordan Sparks will be rocking the NC Music Factory!

SIDE NOTE: Hey Everybody-body…. I’m having a bootcamp at Freedom Park this weekend… and I would love for you to come… email me below for more information and check out my website… getfitcharlotte.com. Since we’re doing some TURBO Kick… We’ll play some Drake in memory of that LAME fight. hahaha

~ Anna Kooiman

It’s called “A Better World.” And that’s what it is… and what it does… The program creates a better world for the kids who would otherwise be left at home alone as soon as the bus dropped them off from school.  Many of them are children of single mothers… working multiple jobs to make ends meet.  A Better World is amazing.  Pastor Ken Gilliard and Kisha Darden are the backbone of the program… and they think of everything.  The kids get a snack, tutoring, free computer access, sports training, Bible study, a hot meal for dinner before they go home… and get this… the kids even get to take home canned goods and toiletries.  Leaders believe if kids aren’t given the bare necessities they will find a way to get them- often through negative- even criminal activity.  So it is actually helping out you too… the taxpayer… lowering welfare and incarceration costs.

The other philosophy the group lives by is that consistency from mentors builds sincere relationships… and that fosters positive development… it also edges out the negative environment that often surrounds the youngsters ranging from elementary to high school students.

Ironically on the other side of town… the church I attend… mega-church Forest Hill lead by David Chadwick… helped plant a seed to start the program.  I didn’t even realize the connection when I started volunteering.  I had done a story at A Better World for Fox News Rising… and it inspired me to help…. But how?  I volunteered to help by using one of my gifts… a passion for fitness and nutrition.

Studies show us it’s very often minority kids from lower socioeconomic families that have some of the biggest waistlines… and as we all know as Americans… our waistlines are growing at an alarming rate and the obesity epidemic is out of control.

On Monday afternoons, the kids greet me with smiles and hugs… they are eager to take my TURBO/Hip Hop Hustle 30 minute exercise class that I teach them in the church’s quaint sanctuary.  But the sound system is off the hook… so we really rock it out!  The kids hoot and holler and dance like no one is watching… what’s REALLY cool… is that I learn from them every time I’m there. They have incredible spirits… they are thankful for everything they have.

For as much joy these kids bring me… I sure hope these amateur pictures and iphone video make you smile too!

ALSO… please join me for my next Bootcamp at Freedom Park…. It’s Saturday, May 29th  from 8:30am-10am.  It’s $15 a person. Email me below for details.  It’s for all fitness levels and sure to be tons of fun! See you there!

~ Anna Kooiman

Wheels on the ground at the airport… I look out the window… and it’s just as mind boggling as everyone says.  An Egyptian pyramid is in the distance… along with Paris’ Eiffel Tower and New York’s Chrysler Building.  As they say…It’s Vegas Baby!  If you can dream it… they can construct it… money is no issue.  Eight of us NC, Tennessee, and Kentucky girls pick the Venetian Hotel right off the strip.  It’s nice to have everything in walking distance… especially when the heels you have to wear in Vegas are double the height we wear in the Q-C!

Everyone says Vegas is struggling because of the economy… but I wouldn’t know it judging from the Venetian.  The front desk tells me all 7400 of their suites are booked.  The place takes our breath away… and we’re total tourists taking pictures with the fountains and everything else we can find… including the ceilings… that’s right… they look like Michaelangelo took a brush to them as he did for the Sistine Chapel.  I’ve never been in a hotel so big… there’s a couple dozen restaurants, casinos, a friggin mall surrounding the lobby, several theatres… and impeccable marketing.  The shows playing in The Venetian at the time… Jersey Boys and Phantom of the Opera… so if I’m standing in the elevator one more time and have to hear “Walk Like a Man” or “Think of Me” playing over the speakers… I think I’m cashing in my chips!  We opt to go see Zumanity… the Circ du Soleil show known not just for it’s acrobatics… but also its erotica.  I can’t say I loved it.  A little too crass for me… but hey… It’s Vegas Baby!

Again… everybody says Vegas is taking a huge hit because of the recession… but you wouldn’t know it at The Venetian’s pool, Tao Beach either  Wait… is it a club or a pool? It’s both!  Music is sooo loud you can hardly talk to the person next to you… so you’re forced to dance!  So of course several of us busted moved from the TURBO/Cardio Dance class I teach! LOL Also at Tao Beach… the cocktail waitresses are the prettiest girls in Vegas. Seriously.  I think the job description must read “Former Miss America.”  Of course they’re wearing teeny bikinis… handing out frozen red bull, fruit skewers, and ice cold towels.   Tao Beach has just recently opened up at The Venetian.  I’m told all of the big name hotels are hoping to tap into the same success Rehab has had at Hard Rock.  Basically a pool area that’s rehab from the night before.  It’s a place where most everyone is biting back the snake that bit them.  This is why they say a weekend is LONG enough in Vegas. Does anyone EVER sleep?

The eight of us southern girls walk up to the front of the line at Tao Beach and ask if we really have to wait in line. Nope!  And we get a sweet daybed big enough for all of us- plus some. The power of being a female… and the power in numbers.  That’s the key to royal treatment.  It’s another reason Vegas is a great spot for bachelorette parties.

As for the clubs… they were all cool… but we like Tryst the best.  A MAJOR waterfall is the backdrop.   Drinks at the club can be ridiculously expensive… so what’s the best option for a group of pretty girls?  Promise a group of guys to get them in the club… and then THEY buy your drinks. It’s only fair!  My last piece of advice to southern ladies looking to try their hats at living the Viva Las Vegas lifestyle… Drink WATER.  People fall out all the time… literally!  Sun, alcohol, and dehydration equals… a bad mix for sure!

After 2 and a half days… we’ve had enough of Vegas… time to head home. So if I may… Happy Bachelorette Heather!  We can’t wait til the big day!!! XOXO

I catch the red eye back to Charlotte… which is a nice option for me seeing as I’m a fantastic airplane snoozer!   There is no moderation for most folks visiting Sin City… so all of the lovely ladies agree we’ll leave the empty calories behind… and hit the gym as soon as we get home.

For folks who don’t know- I’m a fitness instructor around town and hope you’ll join me for a fun bootcamp this weekend at Freedom Park.  Check out my website below! I hope to see/meet you there!

~ Anna Kooiman

GetFitCharlotte.com

The first time Matt Kokenes and I go to the Frye Gym, we spend 15 minutes driving around looking for the entrance. We know it’s in a converted warehouse on Tremont between South and Tryon, but there are a lot of brick warehouses on Tremont in that area, so which one? We are looking for a sign that we come to find out doesn’t exist. The gym turns out to be one of those places that you don’t know is there unless you know it’s there. We finally see something of a sign on a door next to a loading dock, figure out that, yes, this is Frye’s gym.
It’s like no other gym I’ve seen before. Where we entered is a poorly painted garage door that upon opening announces to all that you’ve arrived. The walls inside are bare gray concrete block, and there is a full-size Mixed Martial Arts cage in the near corner with a group of men wrestling and taking turns sparring. Plenty of weights with handles on them fill the area, but there’s not a machine to be had and just one treadmill that’s not plugged in. Colorful artistic graffiti  covers the outside of the changing area, and there is a 20-foot wide strip of green Astroturf that runs the length of one side of the gym. We have no idea where to begin, but we do realize who Frye is because he is “encouraging” one of his clients in a loud and demanding voice.

Frye is your typical 6-foot-plus, 245-pound, shaved-head, single-digit body fat, tattooed fitness motivator. Whether you consciously decide to or not, you end up listening to him and his instructions because it’s hard to ignore when coming from that figure.

Frye is a local, grew up here in Charlotte, played football at South Meck and was good enough to go on to play football at the Citadel. From grunt to upperclassman he completed his four years in Charleston and came back home to start a cabinet business and a family, and try to stay in physical shape around those things in life that typically get in the way. He added two of his own boys to the mix and took on coaching high school football. His own fitness suffered mightily, complicated by his love of food, and Frye ballooned to 330 pounds. But as part of his football coaching duties, Frye trained his players and took a more thoughtful approach to their training. Neuromuscular is the word, but what it works out to is an athletic way to train. None of those machines with pulleys, cables, a lap belt and concise instructions on what specific muscles are trained, but instead active training on all the muscles of the body.

The Prowler today is a go between for me. Between warm-ups and what comes next, a five-step exercise of Olympic lifts. I have just enough time to go from my high heart rate of 176 to a more manageable rate in the 140s. But even in the 140s I imagine I can feel myself moving mentally backward toward the medulla or the reptilian part of my brain, the part of the brain that we started with and the more “civilized” part of the brain grew around it as we evolved. I naturally stop talking, get slightly angry at the process, don’t really look at anyone and reach a point where I can work through physical levels that I didn’t think I could before I started coming to this gym. Halfway through the lifts that I’ve now memorized, RDL to bent-over row to clean and then press, squat and good morning I’m ready to go home, but can’t yet because our workout isn’t over. I just wish it was.

Chris took his exercise strategy from the football field and athletes to everyday folks in the gyms in and around uptown. He worked as a trainer at most all of them, big and small, national chains and not, and left or was kicked out of all of them. His views didn’t mesh with the typical trainer who worked at these gyms, and so out of this conflict the Frye Gym was born.

Chris’ gym was constructed with a specific purpose, and that is to sweat. There are no mirrors to watch yourself, no place to sit to check e-mail, or listen to a voice mail. I haven’t seen anyone try, and I haven’t even thought about bringing my phone into a workout session. I imagine it would be greeted with loud disapproval. But with his bare bones approach to the gym and to the hypoxia-inducing workouts, a bond is created among all the folks who work out at the gym, a friendship that is formed out of mutual survival of these calorie-destroying workouts. And these bonds cross any and all boundaries: a UPS driver trades good-natured jabs with venture capitalists and stay-at-home moms challenge Matt and me to races the length of the gym with 25-pound heavy balls lifted over our heads.

And with my two young daughters at home I can’t help but stop mid-workout and smile as three very determined pre-teen girls strap on their pink boxing gloves and commence to learning the sweet science from Daniel, one of Frye’s instructors. Two to three days a week they get dropped off by their dads and enter what I imagine to be a pretty intimidating environment. Ignoring the loud music pumping from the speakers, and Dingo the shirtless MMA fighter walking around between rounds, they focus on footwork, form and defense with a concentration unmatched in the gym. Can’t help but think what my girls will be doing at their age.

With each overhead press of 100 pounds, I can feel my heart rate rocket upward, hitting that number again, 176.

Followed by rest, walking the gym for as long as it takes Matt to go through his sets, maybe a minute or two, giving my heart time to slow back to the 140s, then it’s my turn again – back to RDL, and clean and press, and 176. I start to think maybe that’s as high as my heart rate monitor goes, maybe I should hold my breath just to see if it’ll hit 180. Nah, might not be a good idea, passing out with 100 pounds of steel overhead will not have a good outcome.

Our sets of Olympic lifts are over and according to the digital clock on the wall we have five minutes left in the workout. Thank God. Maybe Chris will have mercy on our quads and let us go early, but with that thought comes a response from Frye. “Almost done, come on over to the tire. Eight times up and eight times back, five sets and you’re done!” It seems like this happens almost every time; I’m nearing the point where I don’t think I can go on, I definitely don’t want to go on, and I’m being asked to move this massive 500-pound tire end over end 40 times.

My first reaction is anger. I’m not talking to anyone, I’m not looking at anyone, and I scowl. I can’t believe I’m being asked to do this. My whole body is already vibrating, and I’m soaked to the core in my own sweat and now I have to do this. I really can’t believe it. But I grab some more water, move toward the tire and start lifting. The first lift is the hardest, but once again I turn my civilized mind off, reptilian on and push forward. One set of eight flips down, four more to go. I have a minute for Matt to do his thing and then I step back in, eight flips down, three more sets to go. I glance down at my heart rate, in the 140s, which at the beginning of our workout felt like breathlessness but is where I now catch my breath and recover. Amazing how the body works.

Matt’s done and I get eight more groaning flips in and have two more sets to go; I can see the end. I’m not aware of who is in the gym, or what music is pumping through the speakers, I’m just sitting, listening to my breathing, feeling my heart pump and watching the sweat pour off my face. Nothing else matters at this moment. Matt’s turn is done, and so is my down time. Chris says something motivating, I take the cue and step up and flip, eight times and I just have one set left. What started as a monumental task has been reduced to just one set of eight flips of this nasty ass tire and that’s it. Matt finishes, it’s my turn and I squat, lift and push, squat, lift and push. I’m done.

I lie down on the turf, spent. More spent than I ever have been in my life, more spent than any time playing any sport, ever, including my time in Division I tennis. That was nothing compared to this, and now I just want to lie here and catch my breath. Let my blood make a lap through my body at a slightly slower pace. Then while I’m lying on the ground, Chris comes over, gives me a congratulatory high five, says nothing and moves on to the next client, his job done here.

Eventually, I pick myself up off the ground, mix up a concoction to help my muscles recover, slip back to the changing area, jump into the nicest gym shower in town, and slowly recover from the mental and physical trauma of the workout. By the time I exit the shower, I’m back to the civilized world and ready to continue my day. But I now have a deeper understanding of my mental and physical limits and a confidence that comes from pushing myself far beyond anything I thought I could do before.

As I walk out of the gym a smile comes to my lips: The Prowler is moving, gliding along the Astroturf – and I’m not the one pushing it.

See more at Chris’s Gym www.chris-frye.com

~ Todd Trimakas

See more at Chris’s Gym www.chris-frye.com

~ Todd Trimakas