While the city sleeps, they’re working out
It was a little after midnight, and Kameron White was on his way home from a date, fully expecting to be in deep sleep in a short while, when something intervened: The need for cardio.
“The date went OK, and I just wanted to come home, but I was still excited because I had a guitar lesson today,” explained the 25-year-old L.A. musician as he started up an elliptical trainer at the 24-Hour Fitness in Hollywood. “So instead of going home and thinking about how I’m going to be a guitar lord, I decided to work it out here on this machine, and that’s why I’m here.”
White turned his attention to the digital display panel, joining the handful of others in the club who were burning the midnight calories.
Exercise doesn’t belong just to the bright-eyed bushy-tailers who wake pre-dawn to start their workouts, or to the after-work crowd still flush with workday stress. It also belongs to night owls who consider midnight to 3 a.m. prime time. For some, it suits their unorthodox schedules. Los Angeles may not have the 24-hour cachet of Manhattan, but it does have a substantial population of entertainment industry types, club-goers and hospital workers who don’t have a 9-to-5 routine.
Others find that the graveyard workout shift is a way to avoid the roar of the crowd. Although only 12% of the population belongs to a health club, at some popular locations it can feel as if 99% of those folks decided to converge at the same time. The interminable wait for machines drives some to seek all-night gyms and some peace and quiet.
In the wee hours, no one hovers vulture-like around your treadmill, no one eyes your tricep pull-downs waiting for the first opportunity to work in and break up your rhythm. It is, as one man said, like having your own private club.
On the basketball court at the 24-Hour Fitness in Hollywood the thwack-thwack of balls hitting the floor could be heard clearly in the next room. Artist Bernard Chang, 30, faced off against 28-year-old musician David Blizzard in a pick-up game. Blizzard looked as if he’d been dipped in a vat of oil. His shirt is plastered to his body.
“If you get here late, you can work on your own game,” he said between gulps of air. “The guys at the front desk love me. They say, ‘Man, you’re working on your game hard!’ ”
For Chang, late-night workouts afford him the opportunity to be around people -- but not too many people.
“Most of the time I work in isolation at home,” Chang said. “Unless I have a meeting with a client, and then I come here after dinner to work off all the excess. I’m from New York, and I’m used to being around other people.” Downstairs, rows of treadmills sat silent except for two, occupied by nurses Angela Samonte, 25, and Mary Santos, 26, fresh from their shifts at Queen of Angels/Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center. The friends are also workout partners with a Monday-to-Friday routine.
During regular workout hours, said Samonte, who was still wearing scrubs, “people distract you. Or guys try to hit on you. You don’t want to worry about that, you just want to work out with your friend.”
At the World Gym in Burbank, 25-year-old Linet Mahmoody spinned the pedals of an elliptical trainer while watching the news on TV. Her face had traces of makeup left over from her day, half spent pursuing a master’s degree in accounting at Cal State Los Angeles, the other half working at Burger King.
Regular exercise, she said, is essential to her life now, even though she has to do it when most everyone else is in bed.
“I smoked a lot for eight years,” she explained, “and I recently quit. When I started to work out it was hard, even two minutes on the treadmill. But now this is my habit. I do 10 minutes on this machine, and 20 to 30 minutes on the treadmill. I sleep about four hours, but that’s OK. I want to have a good future, so this is OK right now.”
At 2:30 a.m. Marshall Todd, 32, and girlfriend Jade Gaje, 29, were wrapping up their usual late-night exercise session at Hollywood Gym on La Brea Boulevard. “Why are we here?” asked Gaje. “Nobody. There’s nobody here.”
There wasn’t, save for one man in the weight room and the receptionist. The only other movement came from scattered television screens.
“I’ve been here during the daytime and it’s ridiculous,” said Todd, an L.A. screenwriter.
“I don’t want people watching me,” added Gaje, a restaurant hostess.
“People are really chatty when it’s crowded,” Todd said. “It’s cool at first, but if you really want to work out, it’s like, dude! I went to Gold’s in Venice with a friend during the day, and we talked the whole hour and a half. We didn’t do a thing.”
Their cardio and weight workout over, the two headed out, stopping first at an ATM. “We’re going to get something to eat,” Todd said. Where, this time of night?
“Wendy’s. You know, you’ve got to balance it out,” he said with a shrug, and headed out into the night.
Jeannine Stein can be reached at jeannine.stein@latimes.com.