Brains behind the brawn

People assume that body-builders fit their stereotype to the T -- macho men with muscles rather than brain cells. Yasmine El-Rashidi attempts to dispel the belief
I always thought body-builders were conceited airheads. A bunch of buff men that stood around in stuffy gyms lifting weights and posing, topless; admiring themselves endlessly in the mirrors with little shame and much vanity. I spent many years believing that this macho club that too many male specimens belonged to was the equivalent of a think-tank. For those with no brains and just muscles, that is.
I turned out to be wrong -- beyond belief. I sinned: I stereotyped -- with a vengeance.
Body-building is an art, a science. It requires the eye of a sculptor, the dedication, drive and perseverance of a professional runner, the focus of a musician and the will of a political activist declaring personal war against a cause through a hunger strike. Plus a bit of talent.
Ibrahim Hamdy is the perfect example of a body-building academic. He has not yet reached his "world champion" mark but he came third in last year's world championship. He is No 1 in Egypt and holds the same ranking in the Mediterranean region and in Africa. And he knows almost everything about the science of the sport.
"It is definitely a science," Hamdy says, sitting on a weight-training bench at Heliopolis' recently-opened WORLD GYM, where he works as a personal trainer. "For me it started after watching a movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger. I was six. I saw his body, and thought 'he looks amazing, strong. Incredible.' I decided I wanted a body like that. I didn't start training with weights until I was 14, though. My body wasn't ready before that."
Hamdy may have started as a stereotypical society-driven gender-role complier, but it did not last long.
"I started to read," he says of his entry into the intimidating world of body-building. "And save," he continues. "I saved my allowance until I had enough money to buy myself a multi-gym. And then my father brought me trainers from the Cairo Sheraton and World Trade Centre. I started an intense training programme for myself."
It worked. At 17, while strolling in a local club with some friends, Hamdy was approached by the coach of the national team.
"He saw me, said I had a very good body and that I should compete," Hamdy says. "He said I could come first place in the national championships if I entered at that point, beating even those who had been training for years."
The coach was not quite right, but he was close.
"I entered a tournament a few weeks later, but went out from the first round," he says. "I didn't focus on my legs enough. But I got lots of encouragement. People kept telling me that I was the best of all the competitors but that I needed to focus on my legs. I was out of proportion -- my legs were too small," detrimental to any body- builder.
Hamdy got straight to shaping up his legs.
"I set a two-month programme for myself," he says, shifting in his place. "I was really tough. I killed myself training."
And he almost won; taking second place in the national championships. Not bad for a newcomer, but for Hamdy, definitely not good enough. "I like to be the best at whatever I do," he says. "And I believe I can be if I want to."
The naive voice of a 25-year-old still flowing through life on teenage dreams and family support? Far from it.
"We are given choices in life. We can do good or bad. No one is forcing us to do either," he says. "I see lots of people my age choosing the things that will harm them. They feel they are forced to do the opposite and so they rebel. In reality, though, they've just been advised. Not forced. Why not do what's good for you if you can?"
It is a lesson he learnt from his father, and one he says that he will never forget. "He always told me, it's your choice. You know what is right from wrong and you know that anything that destroys your body will ultimately destroy your life. Try everything once, to see, but remember, you have one body. If you take care of it now, when you're 80 years old, you'll still feel strong. There's only one chance, he said."
At life, he meant.
Body-building has become like a religion to this powerhouse who has won first-place medals one after another at contests around the nation and the region. Focus is Hamdy's favourite word.
"Like after my second tournament ever, in which I took second place. I spent the rest of the year training my legs rigorously, and at 19, I won the national 21's category. That made me want to learn even more."
And so he read. Endlessly.
"I couldn't get enough," he says. "There is so much to learn, and new things are constantly being studied and researched. It's a lifelong process. And if you want to succeed in this sport, you have to read. You have to be driven enough to want to learn every single thing you can about body-building."
To the average gym-goer, or non-believer in exercise, lifting weights means picking up a dumbbell, raising and lowering it 10, 15, 20 times, then moving on to another exercise, and another, and another. Until one is back to the gym door, and back in the car. The weight workout is followed by a meal of pasta, stereotypically. To replace the lost energy, it is believed.
"It's so much more complicated than people think," Hamdy says, shaking his head in dismay, disappointment, and frustration at the lack of appreciation for his chosen sport, and profession.
"You have to focus on the muscle," he explains, lifting up the sleeve of his t-shirt and pointing to his bicep. "I could just do this," he says, moving his forearm down to a 90 degree plane. "But it's useless," he says. It is pure momentum, he suggests, now raising his forearm. "This," he emphasises, "is a workout."
It shows -- his bicep is suddenly bigger, harder and pumped up with veins. He explains. "You must concentrate on the muscle you're working on. You need to feel every repetition. When you do that, the blood goes rushing to it. Because it needs oxygen."
Gina Grant, personal trainer and nutritionist at Gold's Gym in Maadi, elaborates. "Weight training is actually an anaerobic exercise," she begins. "Meaning without oxygen. But the fact that you're concentrating so hard on a particular area is why the blood gets sent there. It needs the oxygen in the blood."
Hmmmm, some clients listening-in respond.
In simple terms: When one trains, the specific muscles being exercised reach a point where they are working harder than the body can supply them with oxygen. The result is small micro- tears in muscles fibre. That's the first step of how muscles are built.
"The muscles repair themselves naturally, of course," Hamdy says. "But you need to feed them to allow them to heal."
The food of choice: protein.
"It's what muscles are made of," he says. "Yes, you need the carbohydrate (pasta, banana, bread) to replace the energy expended but you must feed the muscle if you want it to repair properly. But there's an important point: once you reach that point of muscle fatigue, you need to stop training. If you push yourself, then the muscles begin to break down. Stop at this point and eat."
Nutrition, both Hamdy and Grant emphasise, is a huge part of the process. "I have a very detailed, strict eating programme," he says. "I start preparing for a contest months ahead. The closer I get to it, the more rigorous my diet and training programmes become."
One month before the contest, Hamdy enters his self-imposed concentration-style camp. "I spend the whole month in my gym at home," he says.
He means it, literally.
"I have a fridge, television, music system and sleeping area in my gym," he matter-of-factly explains. "And one window."
The window, he continues, is situated at a certain level in the wall. "High enough to allow me to see only the sky," he says, sternly.
"If you want to excel in this sport, this is the way it has to be done. Just before a contest you need to be completely relaxed, de-stressed, and worry-free. The only thing that should be on your mind is the contest. You need to sleep well, train hard and eat right. Sleep is crucial."
But sleep is not the only thing.
"Sleep allows the muscles to rest and grow. But water, too, is crucial to muscle growth. So are proteins, carbohydrates and fats -- in the right amounts. Take away one part of the equation and the answer comes out wrong. Or slightly off."
In the case of Hamdy's eating regimen, for example, it starts with a two-month period of five mini-meals a day, each meal consisting of a balance of all the body's needs: healthy, oil-free foods, grilled chicken, fish, rice, salad, vegetables, fruit, and water.
"Nothing else, except one day a week -- my free day. Even then, I eat healthy, with maybe a bit of extra fat or some sugar."
Hamdy then shifts to a month of five-meal days with no free day, then a month of three meals a day, then two. All diet, of course
"An average meal is 250 grammes of protein (chicken or fish), 250 grammes of carbohydrates (rice), 250 grammes of salad and a piece of fruit."
The measurements, he says, are crucial. "Your body needs a certain number of calories per day to function. It needs a certain amount of protein per pound of body weight (1-2 grammes depending on training intensity and goals)," he says. "If you get more than your body needs," he continues, "then the excess will be converted into fat and stored. As a body-builder, my aim is to drop my body fat as low as possible and build as much muscle as possible."
The amount of body fat on Hamdy's body is unquestionably low. He appears, to the untrained eye, to be a walking mound of muscle.
"I still have a while before my next contest, though. I've just come back from a one-month rest, so I'm not in form."
But compared to other local competitors he is in super shape.
"They all eat a lot when they're in their rest period. They gain lots of fat, so they have to work extra hard to prepare for the next contest. I actually lose weight. I cut my food intake and so I lose muscle. I gain no fat so I get back to my post-contest size very quickly when I start training again and increase my food intake."
The rest, to him, is the real test.
"I get very angry at myself if I don't follow my food plan or if I don't rest properly. If I want to be the best in the world, this has to be my life. It means not staying out late, no parties, no coffee or tea. Nothing that is bad for my body. This sport requires focus. You have to devote yourself to your body and care for it. Full-time. All your life. It's not a part-time thing. Yes, you can do it another way, but you're harming your body, ultimately. And, of course, you won't be the best."
His drive and determination and dedication are remarkable for a man who just turned 25 last December. "That," he says firmly, "is a gift from God."
"The sport, though," he quickly, shyly, continues, "is worth it. It's fascinating."
He briefly gets up to talk to a client, then explains, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, about muscle shapes.
"You can actually change the shape of your muscles," he enthuses. "If your legs are the shape of a pear," he draws in the air, "you can train them in a certain way so that they become like this," he says, bringing his hands down, parallel, through the air. "Or you can make your biceps curl out and extend down to just where the arm bends, rather than up here."
The key, though, is understanding every exercise and what precise fraction of the muscle it targets.
"It really is a science," he says. "All of it. It's about lots of things. Symmetry, proportion, muscle definition. How the body breaks down the food, how the muscles grow and develop and break down. How water in the muscles plays a role. How the body uses salt. Everything. People never look at this."
He is right. People never look beyond the perceived vanity.
"And they think we look in the mirror because we love ourselves," he laughs. "No. It's because we need to make sure that our bodies are developing symmetrically. That's a huge part of it."
"I start training for the world championships from now," he says. "They're eight months away. That's my goal for now."
His one-month gym sentence is expected to get him there.
"I don't see a soul for a month. Don't speak to anyone or go anywhere. Food is delivered to me and that's it. I train, eat, sleep, and on my day off, watch TV."
That is dedication.
It is hard not to admire the desire to succeed, excel and devour facts and information. Reading, Hamdy says, is his religion, along with dietary rules, training regimens and his strict no-play policy.
"If you want to be a pro, you can't have much of a social life," he says. "It's too tiring on the body and too stressful."
Hamdy should know; he has devoted his life to perfecting his body. And while his entry into the world of body building may have begun as a mere "image thing" - confirming popular public opinion - one can't help, at this point, say 'why not?' The body, after all, is the vehicle of life.
E-mail this page to someone
© Copyright Al-Ahram Weekly. All rights reserved
Send a letter to the Editor