Shaping Up in the Wee Hours Is Not the Usual Treadmill

On the second floor of the health club, the woman in leotard and tights is conducting an aerobics class of one. In a space that could hold 40, it’s just her, the music and the mirror.

It’s 1 a.m.

Not long after she bundles up her gym bag and walks out, Omari Talib walks into the free weights room, a bottle of water tucked under his arm. He’s been to school (Pasadena City College), his second job (Tower Records) and now he’s here for his hour of pumping iron. “I’m an insomniac,” says the 23-year-old Talib, inexplicably cleareyed.

It’s 2:45 a.m. Talib has to be at school in six hours.

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In Los Angeles, you can ride the Lifecycle 24 hours a day.

At least you can at Bally’s Nautilus Plus in Pasadena. As most other health clubs are shutting off the music and the lights, and coaxing last-minute exercisers out the door, this plain brick building on the edge of Old Pasadena is just switching into night mode. On an otherwise quiet strip of Arroyo Parkway, the fluorescent-lit entrance beckons the buff and not-so-buff, the graveyard shift workers and the sleepless, anyone who believes a post-midnight run on a treadmill or a round of military presses, lat pulls and squats will help them make it through the night.

Since November, the club has been open 24 hours Monday through Thursday. (Friday, they close at 11 p.m.; Saturday and Sunday at 10 p.m.)

“We found out that Pasadena is kind of a 24-hour place,” says sales counselor Pierre Williams, who clocks out at 10 p.m. “A lot of people need to be told when they should work out. We say just stop by after work. The next question is: ‘What time do you close?’ The answer is: ‘We don’t.’ ”

Freed of the frenzy of club prime time (4 p.m. to 8:30 p.m.), exercisers avoid stray elbows in aerobics classes and bumping backsides in locker rooms. There are no hostile glares from people waiting for the weight machine you’re using.

Gone are the harried members flinging their membership cards and problems at the front desk staffer. “People are rude from noon to 4 p.m.,” says one nightside staffer bluntly. After 10 p.m., the crowd mellows; not a voice is raised.

“It’s kind of peaceful,” says a woman slipping into flowered tights and a lilac spandex top in the locker room at 11 p.m. “I usually come even later.” Her nails are lacquered scarlet and she reapplies lipstick before going out to lift weights. Under cover of night, exercisers can be anyone they want to be--or at least cloak themselves in complete privacy. And this woman requests that neither her name nor her occupation be revealed. “I go there to work out,” she says later, “and not really be in a meat market.”

The night breeds its own lore. Rumor has it that one woman with a perfect figure is a porn star. “I don’t need to know,” says trainer Geary Souder, brushing off the gossip. “Does she need a trainer? That’s all I need to know.”

Souder loves the odd hours. He arrived only a few weeks ago and dreams of being an independent trainer.

“But you can’t do that without clientele,” he says. So here he is, roaming the floor, helping those who request it and gently offering suggestions to those who are clearly doing it wrong. You can hire him for a training session at 3 in the morning. Night people not only crave smaller crowds, they are usually devoted exercisers. “Anyone coming in at 2 a.m.,” Souder says, “is committed to getting their workout in.”

But in truth, the nocturnal crowd is as varied as the daytime crowd. Some are as lean and muscled as Carmen McMickens and her boyfriend, Anderson Mackey. “I can concentrate more at night,” he says. “We had a fattening lunch and I felt guilty,” she says.

Others are wrestling with their weight. “I have to drop 50 pounds and be ready,” says 25-year-old Rose Grant, a singer and songwriter who likes to work on her music until four or five in the morning. “I’m about to get a deal.”

The clock edges toward the wee hours. Downstairs in the free weights room (“the iron room” one staffer dubs it), Damon Turner, a 20-year-old trainer who has finished his shift, has staked out a corner, lanky legs stretched out, for a chat with two friends. Upstairs, a mere 11 people are engrossed in the exercise of their choice. The cavernous room, so overrun during the day, now practically engulfs the exercisers.

“Your sense of space is a little different at night,” says Joe Altmark, wearing sweats and a baseball cap embroidered with “Karate Kid III,” a memento of his work as a stunt double on the movie.

At least half of the night crawlers are women. Inside, the gym, big as it is, feels like a cocoon of safety. But outside, the night is damp and deserted. The women who venture out sigh and resign themselves to a short if tense walk to the parking lot. “I don’t know if I’d come alone,” says Christy Shaw. “I brought my boyfriend.”

Eve Ferrara, 41, has just come from the movies. “ ‘Schindler’s List.’ Sad,” says Ferrara, who is working out with her friend, Jenny Bryant, 28. “She knew about the gym being open 24 hours. We said, ‘Let’s go after the movies.’ ”

They love the privacy of the night. “There’s no one who gives a (hoot) how you look,” says Ferrara with a little grin. “Usually you have to prime yourself up and look half decent.”

Bryant checks her watch. “It’s five after midnight,” she says.

Ferrara’s face lights up with sudden recognition. “Happy birthday!” she exclaims.

Night people become morning people around 5 a.m., and by 6 a.m., 40 to 50 people are starting their day with a workout. Souder heads home, eats some breakfast, maybe catches up on the latest edition of Muscle and Fitness. Says Souder: “If you’re going to make a living at it, you have to stay on top of the craft.”