Last night I did my regular Tuesday night Pilates workout. I’ve been working out with Stephanie, for my trainer, for nearly two years. Slowly but surely, I’ve gotten more and more advanced.
Pilates is all about training the body’s core. And while I’d spent years doing crunches and side bends, it was only when I started doing Pilates that I began to discover a whole set of muscles that I had never imagined existed. Until 2005, I never knew that we all have something called a “pelvic floor”. I didn’t know about my transverse abdominus, or my psoas. And I certainly didn’t expect my strongest muscles to become those below my navel, above my pubis, and between my pelvic bones. I can say that after a couple of years of serious work, I’ve developed some pretty strong lower abs.
As I was talking with Stephanie last night, we discussed how few men do Pilates (even though Pilates is named for its male founder.) Our conversation turned, and it occurred to me how very few men I know (particularly young men) feel a sense of connection with their own bodies. We are trained in American culture to think of the male body as a performance machine; men evaluate their body’s worth based less on aesthetics than on functionality: does the body have the strength to lift heavy objects? Does the penis perform on command? Men call their arms “guns”; they refer to their penises as “rods” and “pistons” that “screw”. It’s the language of war, of car repair, of carpentry.
Many men are intensely anxious about their bodies. Though an increasing number of men struggle with eating disorders and a culturally imposed pressure to have perfect abs, even more men worry about their sexual performance. We live in a culture of epidemic male anxiety about erectile “dysfunction”; three hours watching commercials during a football game or fifteen minutes reading the ads in the sports section will make it clear that the worry about “getting it up” is nigh on universal among sexually active men. (I posted a bit about erectile dysfunction in May of last year.)
But the paradox is obvious: we live in a society where there exists tremendous male anxiety about sexual performance (as measured by drug company profits alone). At the same time, very few men bother to connect their sexual function with the health, strength, and well-being of the rest of their body. It’s as if they think of the penis as quite literally “standing alone”, like a house without a foundation. And in the rush to seek medical solutions to impotence and poor sexual control (premature ejaculation, weak erections), they ignore the very basic reality that strengthening the muscles of the lower core, particularly the pelvic floor, can have a dramatic and powerful effect on one’s sex life.
There’s a line between candor and gross “TMI” (what my cousin Dinah calls an “over-share”), and I’m not going to cross it in this post. I will say, however, that my sense of myself as a sexual person has been radically reshaped by an intense commitment to Pilates! My wife (who has also beecome an active and advanced Pilates practitioner) has noticed the difference, and our intimate life has deepened and intensified as a consequence. Though we’ve both been athletic for years, like most Americans we didn’t connect our sexual lives to our entire bodies. Too often, we thought of sex as involving primarily the brain, the genitalia, the heart. Committing to Pilates has been revelatory in more ways than one.
My core exercise is running, and as long as my hips and knees hold up, I’ll keep doing that. But I’ve decided to drop the boxing component of my work-out rituals; I’ve been training thrice weekly at a local boxing gym since January 2006. I’ve certainly learned a lot about the sport. But while my upper body is stronger, and my shoulders broader, I can’t say I feel as if I feel fundamentally transformed by the discipline of learning to hit things well. (Heck, I’m pretty ambivalent about hitting things to begin with; my neo-Anabaptist pacifism makes me question the whole world of amateur boxing.) Working out on the “reformer” and on the balls and mats with Stephanie not only tones and shapes me, it teaches me about the profound interconnectedness of my body and my soul.
In developing my core muscles as they’ve never been developed before, I begin to understand that though my body is indeed mortal (as opposed to an eternal soul) it is not(as so many of my brothers believe) a “machine to be maintained.” It is not a bag of bones and muscles and fat that carries my brain around. In my younger years, and even until recently, I had a sense that my body was always betraying me. It would get sick at the least opportune time. It would fail to do as I wanted it to, particularly early on in certain intimate relationships. It would suddenly overwhelm me with its imperious demands for food, sleep, sex. I felt as if I alternately indulged and disciplined my body, as if it was some sort of hyper-active child who needed to be placated, monitored, and periodically spanked.
My spiritual growth, my commitment to doing “deep work” on masculinity and pesonal transformation, my adoption of a vegan diet, and my now two-year long commitment to Pilates are all connected. I’m a fierce (and to many readers, tiresome) proponent of the idea that everything matters. What we put in our mouths matters; what comes out of our mouth matters; how we make love matters; how we spend matters; how we treat our bodies matters. Every action we take, no matter how small, is a vote — it either builds a more just society and helps us become the person we are called to be, or it takes us further away from those goals. Pilates doesn’t make me a more generous person per se; it does teach me (like nothing else) of the profound interconnectedness of my physical, psychological, sexual and even spiritual well-being.
I write from a place of profound privilege. I can afford a vegan diet. I can afford private Pilates training. I am not smugly demanding that others do as I have done. But there are inexpensive alternatives, and I ought to do more on this blog to publicize those. And it’s worth pointing out that we spend a fortune in this country on pharmacological treatments for erectile dysfunction (I know men whose spending on Viagra or Levitra would pay for a number of Pilates classes). Only a fraction of the men pumping these drugs into their system have no alternative. Most cases of erectile dysfunction, particularly in otherwise healthy men, are connected to performance anxiety rather than a genuine organic malfunction. And a huge part of the problem for many, many American men is that they are ignorant of the reality of how their penis works. It rises up from a man’s core, and as I (and anyone else who does serious Pilates or yoga work) can attest, it functions in harmony with the muscles of the lower core and the pelvic floor. The link between strengthening the deep core muscles of the body and enhanced sexual pleasure for both parties in a relationship is obvious and dramatic. And too many men are fundamentally ignorant of this basic physiological truth.
There are some good books out there on male bodies: David Friedman’s fine A Cultural History of the Penis and Susan Bordo’s The Male Body: A New Look at Men in Public and Private. (I use both in my men and masculinity humanities class — I’ll be teaching it in the fall!) But as I advance as a Pilates student, my own sense of the male body is being transformed. And there’s a need out there for some good writing that synthesizes the wisdom of Pilates (and its companion discipline, yoga) with solid contemporary research on men and masculinity. Most men who lead lives of quiet desperation feel some of that despair because of the perceived failures of their flesh. Reaching them is vital.
Sorry for any TMI and mild explicitness below.
I’ve been doing core work for about three years now. I haven’t been to classes, and I haven’t had individual instruction, but I’ve been exploring exercises through many, many books. The Core Program by Peggy Brill, P.T. and the Egoscue Method of Health Through Motion are both excellent. My current choice is the Egoscue book, several times a week for under an hour.
I’m not going to be a hunched-over, squinty computer geek by the time I’m 35. Quiet desperation, indeed. How would I contribute to the world with vigor and vitality at age 70, at that rate? Not to mention having tons of fun.
As a male, I’ve been exploring my “sensual” side for a long time. It started with subtle energy work, I think. That woke up a world of inner feeling and emotion. It was humbling, scary, empowering and it made me feel vulnerable. Being in my body is, at times, a shimmering, visceral, open experience. Responsive poise and strength. It’s hard to describe. When I’m not experiencing my body this way, say from working too hard or eating poorly, it’s unpleasant.
I’m 26, now. Straight. I used to experience a bit of resistance from women in my opening up this side of myself during physical intimacy. Some of it, I’m sure, was my own uneasiness. I still am uneasy with it.
I hope this isn’t too much information, but it supports Hugo’s point: I’ve had a handful of sexual partners, all who’ve had previous lovers. Each of them has noted, unprompted, surprised, delighted, that, head and shoulders above everyone else, I am the best they’ve ever had. (FYI, I am average in the small number of stereotypical traits and abilities that men are supposed to have to be good in bed. We’ll leave that at that.
I asked my most recent partner to explain what was so different, after she said, “No one has sex like this.” (I don’t believe that, by the way!) To paraphrase, it’s the way I move, the time I take, not so much what I do but *how* I do it. I attribute this to being very aware of what feels good to me (masturbation, Hugo–it’s a good thing!), and then generalizing that insight into *how* I touch and interact with my partner, whole body. In addition, there’s that bold athleticism, strength, intensity, and extreme comfort with my entire body, so I use my entire body on my partner’s entire body, if that makes sense without being TMI. And, verbal communication, verbally checking in, sensitivity, empathy, eyes open…
There’s a whole world inside of yourselves, guys (and ladies!), and that includes working on yourself from the inside (core) out, in a physical sense too. It doesn’t make you a sissy. It makes you intense, empowered, vulnerable, pantherine, deep and mysterious.
Incidentally, the more sensitive, aware, and empathetic you are, the more edgy and aggressive you can be, if that’s your thing.
I should have mentioned above, that I’ve read a gazillion books on communication, relationships, intimacy, sex, love, exercise, consciousness, religion, diet, etc, etc, etc, etc. It’s all related.
98% of information out there is, well, crap. But you don’t know *which* 98% until you’ve been reading and experimenting for awhile…
I have to assume this is some sort of spoof post or that you have warped back into 1930′s since I think I saw the actual phrase “how we treat our bodies matters. Every action we take, no matter how small, is a vote — it either builds a more just society and helps us become the person we are called to be” either in a 1930′s superman statment, a WWII training film or on the back of an old comic book body building advertisement.
Work hard, train hard, be hard! This is supposed to be a new idea? Every guy I have ever heard talking about how fit his is (and who is obsessed with his own body and fitnesses) usually ends with some bizaare statement about his sexual stamina or his rock hard control. Please note post above if you don’t believe me – there is no end to why a guy will believe he has control over the most important aspect of what he views his body – no not his mind!, as Hugo points out, his penis – whether that is fitness, yoga, mind-power control techniques, wrestling bulls, being aggressive on the market floor or stock car racing and each will claim that theirs is NEVER the one with the “problem” which is why I guess Viagra does so well, because any doctor will tell you that probably stress is the number one dysfunction cause yet I think finding someone, even a college prof who can lead a stress free live is a more privilaged status than one who can afford a personal trainer and a vegan diet and I am glad that you are glad that all the running and pilates and becoming aware of your own body has improved your sex life, but then I think a specific book from india has also been doing that for hundreds of years without a stomach crunch (though I did see a position which involved sex while hunting deer in it).
Gosh, I just fly kites for the whole body workout. As an activity it is not even that expensive. Maybe $250 for a nice trainer. I guess you need access to a soccer field and need to live in a reasonably windy area. Best part is, and was always a challenge for me with basic calisthenics, is the intellectual and technical challenge of kite flying. It took me almost a year to be able to competently fly the things.
The physique it seems to be building in me is the trendy spartan physique. I feel like it is giving me Popeye arms, but people have assured me I am imagining that. In any case, I am getting a good strong handshake.
I find the whole kite flying experience to be very emotionally and spiritually centering. After a good afternoon of kite flying, I feel like the colors are brighter, and everything appears more sharp and focused.
Getting back into after the winter as been great fun. It is nice to see, that even at my age, a good workout can cause my muscles to bulge to the point of stretch bruises on my arms and shoulders. Also, that in just a couple of weeks, I can go from a square body shape to a triangle.
Also, for sexuality… I think it is all about good circulation. I think you just need to eat less fatty foods, and get plenty of aerobic exercise.
Also… with much sympathy for a males need to masturbate… I think MarkL is flat out wrong on masturbation. I would say masturbators, in my observation anyhow, are as lazy as pot smokers. Also, I invite the ladies in to comment on this, that boyfriend, husband, whatever, that looked at porn and masturbated all the time, was he living up to his potential, or was that, er um, hobby keeping him down?
I don’t think many of us ladies would think well of a husband who read Proust “all the time”, either. Are you asking whether women object to a man who masturbates at all? (I’d say most of us would prefer that to a man who thinks that every time he gets an erection his female partner ought to “relieve his needs” a la Clan of the Cave Bear.)
@Elizabeth >> usually ends with some bizaare statement about his sexual stamina or his rock hard control Please note post above if you don’t believe me
I explicitly said I was “average,” although that leaves much to interpretation. Sorry if that wasn’t clear:
(FYI, I am average in the small number of stereotypical traits and abilities that men are supposed to have to be good in bed. We’ll leave that at that.
I suspect that one of the points both Hugo and I are making is that we accidentally discovered something lacking in our lives, body-wise. We’re both glad we stumbled on it, and we’re spreading the word. That’s how I read parts of his post, anyway.
The sex stuff was to support that “working on my core” has been a good thing for me, and that it’s not anti-male.
I realized after the fact that, at least from my perspective, my comment is against one male stereotype (non-body awareness) and perpetuates another (aggressive sexual prowess). Therefore, rather than generalizing, I’ll note that my sexual experience is my preference, and it’s not all of the time, and it’s not necessarily the preference or experience of other men.
I reccommend T’ai Chi, myself. I’ve practiced it for years.
@Elizabeth >> I am glad that you are glad that all the running and pilates and becoming aware of your own body has improved your sex life,
Hugo notes:
>> Pilates doesn’t make me a more generous person per se; it does teach me (like nothing else) of the profound interconnectedness of my physical, psychological, sexual and even spiritual well-being.
I don’t think sex is the main point here. I think Hugo is referring to what is sometimes called “spiritual cross training.” If you exercise and eat healthy you’ll be able to serve God better, have better meditation sessions, think more clearly about ethical dilemmas, whatever. Growth or personal development has transference to areas that don’t seem to related on the surface, sometimes in profound ways.
Hugo – A year ago, I began private sessions with Kimberly, my pilates trainer. I saw and still see pilates as the end goal of my overall fitness – having lost the weight, Pilates has been the means by which I have deepened the mind body connection and increased my mindfulness of the physical self. I have mentioned in comments in the past that two years ago I weight 60 pounds more than I do today. Pilates to me is the icing on the cake of fitness regimes.
Kimberly and I have talked about the relative scarcity of men in pilates classes. Generally, men see pilates as a “womens” exercise. Rather than the punishing the body like strenuous weights or wind sprints, it nourishes the body while working it. I’ve never been as sore after weights as I have been after a deep and serious hour of piltes on the cadillac and reformer. But for men, real exercise is often seen through the lens of the high school sports team – punitive, brutal, physically and emotionally gruelling. In the quiet and warmth of the pilates studio, one encounters a radically different vision of fitness than one learned at the knee of one’s maladjusted high school coach.
I also think the pilates – sexuality connection is real, deep and transforming. As I have done more pilates, I have developed keen awareness of my body. I have become more in touch, more in tune with my sexual and physical self. It has improved my ability to enjoy and experience my sexuality as positive. I realized recently most men are socialized to think of themselves as separate from their bodies; but the body is the self. I read a comment on a fitness website where a man complained about his body as if it were not attached to himself. It was overweight, it was too hairy, it was out of shape. Doing pilates I have come to see that when I stopped seeing my body and myself as separate I saw dramatic and positive changes. Pilates has helped me in that regard. I think that rather than the pelvic floor has been the biggest change.
No question, Glenden — your response to Pilates mirrors my own. And the results are much deeper than even the deep pelvic floor.
I don’t do Pilates or yoga because they make you take off your shoes [blush]. Hopefully with the weather getting warmer I’ll be able to ride the bike around and walk/run more. Nothing comparable to what Hugo does regularly, but it is a goal.
I discovered yoga a few years ago, despite having neither the time nor money for a trainer or a gym membership, by getting an intro-level DVD and a yoga mat. And for the first time, my body was something other than the Big Fat Support System For My Brain. I started to notice improvements quickly, even though some positions were flat-out impossible. (Child’s Pose? Not gonna happen.) Even more amazingly, I enjoyed it. Not competitive. Not public. Not humiliating.
Sadly, we bought a new sofa and by literally a couple inches there is no floor space in the house where I can lie down and stretch out properly anymore. So no more yoga, at least not until I find the time/money for classes…
You run and you never knew you had a psoas? Damn, you lucky, boy.
I’ve done some yoga, off and on, but never tried Pilates. I’ve always wanted to, though.
If you attend Bradley Method birthing classes, you become familiar with the pelvic floor very quickly. Kegel muscle exercises (contract and release) are a key part of the regimen. My wife and I are expecting our first child in the next couple weeks, and we’re supposed to be doing 200 Kegels a day (we try, but we’re not quite there).
You run and you never knew you had a psoas?
Nope. I knew — the hard way — about my IT band and my sciatic nerve, though…
I learned the hard way about my IT band, too. Holy wow, did that thing hurt. I’m just now running again after several months’ hiatus.