A Flock of Flab Fighters

A new breed of gym-goer emerges in the days surrounding Thanksgiving: the holiday exerciser.

This is the person who surreptitiously slinks into the gym after not showing up for weeks. This is the neophyte who fumbles with the Butt Blaster machine or puffs purple-faced on the Stair Master. And it’s also the well-toned regular, wishing to strike a deal with his conscience, pledging an extra workout in exchange for a little overindulgence.

Gyms report that in the days leading up to and following Thanksgiving, attendance is up 30% thanks to people who want to eat guilt-free. After all, 20 minutes of aerobics burns about 200 calories, or one dollop of whipped cream. (Working off the pie will take another 35 minutes or so.)

At times like these, health clubs beckon almost as much as mounds of stuffing and mashed potatoes doused with gravy. (For the record, one cup of stuffing has about 360 calories, one cup of mashed potatoes 230 calories and one cup of gravy 160 calories.)

“Today’s workout was hell, but I know I’m going to be a bad boy,” said Gale Banks, 54, explaining why he intensified his 7 a.m. exercise Wednesday at a Pasadena gym in anticipation of some heavy-duty holiday eating.

“It’s basically forsaking the rational for the wishful,” said Dr. Roderic Gorney, a UCLA professor of psychiatry. “If you know you’re going to do something terrible on Monday, you go to church and repent in advance on Sunday.”

Jelayne Sewell, a 35-year-old Duarte teacher, hadn’t been to the gym since school started but she nailed down her resolve, laced up her sneakers and began working out this week.

“The eating starts from Oct. 31 through Christmas,” she sighed.

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Sewell’s friend invites her to the gym all the time, but usually she’s too tired. Her alternatives dwindled as the weather and the short fall days made it harder to go roller-blading or walking after work.

So Tuesday night, she donned a white T-shirt and black leggings, gritted her teeth and ran 30 minutes aboard the treadmill.

Her expected reward? As much cranberry sauce and fixings as she desires at her brother’s San Diego home, where she will dine today, baking her homemade pumpkin pie.

Some gyms will stay open today, with particularly long lines for the cardiovascular machines, which burn the most fat. Yet the hard truth is that one Thanksgiving meal is not going to cause significant weight gain--regardless of exercise.

“One day of overindulgence is not going to do much,” said Bob Girandola, an associate professor in USC’s department of exercise science.

For the person who suddenly begins working out, only to stop after the holidays, the brief stint of exercise is meaningless, Girandola said.

And if you’re a regular exerciser, there’s no reason to kill yourself.

“The calories simply won’t make a difference,” said Girandola. “Psychologically, it might feel like you can afford to eat more calories.”

Some gym-goers admit it’s conscience, not brain, that dictates their actions.

Marla Carter, a 62-year-old San Marino resident, goes to the gym five or six times a week. This past week, she has come in more than usual and exercised longer, adding another 15 minutes or so to her typical 45-minute workout.

“My daughter-in-law is having pumpkin cheesecake,” she explained. “I’m going to eat cheesecake--you have to not deprive yourself once in a while.”

But Carter was momentarily flustered when her workout partner said she’d heard that a person would have to exercise 75 minutes to undo the damage wrought by a piece of pumpkin pie and 65 minutes to compensate for four slices of turkey.

“Oh my, we’re in trouble,” said Carter, who ended the interview so she could snag a Stair Master.

At this time of year, calorie jitters in a gym spread like a virus.

“I’m panicking now that the holidays are coming. I know I’m going to eat. I’m the one doing the cooking,” said Janette Johnson, 39, a bus driver.

Johnson, a Pasadena resident, has done her best to prepare for Thanksgiving: She went to the gym five days last week and two this week. (Normally, she goes three times a week.)

With a towel around her neck and cheeks flushed from a kick-boxing class, Johnson said she worries about the holidays because she samples the food as she cooks. It’s the mashed potatoes and gravy that are her downfall, she confided.

But this year, she’s exercising as much as she can before The Big Meal and she bought fat-free gravy.

Health clubs are places where food is spoken of with longing and enmity. “The gravy will get you,” sighed Jeri Krug, 33, a subway engineer from Pasadena who usually runs or works out four times a week but went to her gym for the seventh straight night Tuesday.

Caroline Reyes, 24, normally a twice-a-week athlete, fears the turkey “and all the trimmings.” It was this yearning that brought her to the gym daily this week.

The Pasadena City College student has pledged to visit her gym as often as possible from now until January. It means she sometimes reads her art history textbooks while she rides the stationary bike.

“I’ve been making myself come to the gym,” she said. “I have to.”