Three years ago, a New Jersey personal trainer and health-clubowner named at his desk, playing with a paper clip and pondering his clients’ inability to do crunches without “neck jerk.”  You’ve been there. The paper clip was a heart, then a wedge, and then, faster than you can spell “origami,” it became a V, on its back, with upraised arms.  Brown beheld it, saw that it was good, and filed for a patent.  Thus was born the ab craze: machines, every one of which, seems has its own infomercial incessantly cycling the late-night airwaves.

Until 1995, when the $1.3 billion-a-year infomercial industry began spreading the news of what Brown had wrought, nobody much cared about abs qua abs.  Iron –abs prophets such as Kurt Brungardt, the author of The Complete Book of Abs, have long preached that stronger abdomen muscles (upper, lower and right and left obliques) not bolster strength and posture but also help reduce lower-back pain.  But they never quite learned how to sell their gospel: Brungardt sprinkles his speech with such uplifting quotes as “It’s so hard to cut abs, especially for men because of the “first and last” principle.  Genetically men store fat on their love handles.  It’s the first place it goes on and last place it goes off.”  Who wants to hear downer news like that?  Besides, Brungardt and his ilk are unswerving in their proselytism for the venerable crunch, and anyone who says he actually enjoys doing crunches is lying.

But watching other people do crunches, especially ultra-buff babes like Tamille Webb (who bares her taut midsection in the infomercial for the PerfectAbs roller) – that’s a different matter all altogether.  Driven by such ibidinal subtext and some audacious promises, the crunch-in-a-roller concept catapulted to profits that even the savviest marketers only dream about:  Sales this year will double or triple those of 1995, topping out somewhere between an impressive $500 million and a stupefying $750 million (of a fitness-equipment market that saw an estimated $3.5 billion in total sales ub 1995).

At last, these infomercials claim, we can all have “rock-hard abs,” the kind the flat-stomach models love to caress in the TV pitches.  At a cost of only a few minutes a day and between $60 and $90 on your credit card.  From an 800 number.  What more can you ask of consumer culture?

LIES IN ADVERTISING
Of course, there’s the possibility that none of the claims are true.  Even Ellington Darden, Ph.D., the respected Nautilus research director who appears in one of the more straightforward infomercials, for the Ab Trainer, thinks the promotions get carried away. “Most push the fact that these abdominal devices will melt that fat off your mid-section without dieting, which is stupid,” he says.  “It would never work.”  In fast, says Darden, and average man would need to do 4,4667 reps in 7 hours and 47 minutes to burn off a pound of fat.  These findings are also supported by a study of men who did 185 sit-ups daily for 27 days.  The average fat-cell loss?  Zero.  There’s no way any machine alone will take six inches off your beer gut, unless it’s a machine gun. But the machines will tone your abs, and they’ll do it without hurting your back or neck, as poorly done crunches can.  How?  Get out your paper clip.  The roller cradles you on a cross-bar between two rocker arms, providing both support and alignment in a way nothing has before.  Brown says it “takes the pain out of sit-ups,” ending the neck-jerk conundrum.  Darden speaks in ab physics: “ You’ve got a moving axis of rotation in your spine.  The rocker mimics that perfectly.” But do I need one? “I would say no,” says Mike Wood, Boston trainer who tested ab equipment for a recent Tufts University study.  Machines might be motivational, he says, but they do no more for you that crunches do. That’s just the problem with fitness purists, though.  They’re so dedicated to preserving the sanctity of the almighty crunch that they miss the fact that motivation is entire point.  Crunches, correctly done, as wood prescribes for the ultimate ab workout, aren’t going to tighten my waistline one millimeter if I can’t stand to do them. TV fitness trainer and low-fat nutrition advocate Larry North of Dallas says roller equipment has been such a hit that one machine at his chain of clubs broke from overuse.  Echoing Darden, Brungardt, and others, North says the only way to really lose inches is through a better diet but adds that an ab machine is okay because “it can encourage you to do 5 or 10 minutes even in your home twice a week, at least you’re not going to feel like such a schlub.”

MY DAILY CRUNCH
That’s where I come in. As a lifelong crunchphobe, I figured to be a great test market.  So I watched the infomercials, surfed Fitness TV, ESPN2, and late-night cable reruns, cruised sporting goods stores, and found dozens of units for comparison.  My premise was that whether I needed a machine or not, if it made ab work bearable, I was down with it. With the machines arrayed before me, it was immediately clear the Cadillac of the home market is Brown’s design, the Ab Trainer (800-279-8497).  More substantial than the rest, it comes in three versions, from the infomercial model, at $89, the Club Pro, $295, sold mostly to health clubs.  My choice was the midline Home Pro version ($139), same design as the Club model but made of lighter grade steel.  The priciest of the home-use brands, it’s also the most durable.  It features a thick swivel-mounted neck rest that follows you closely on the upward movement.  The overhead bar isn’t adjustable, a feature multiple users might prefer.  Nonetheless, the deep-V arch allows for variety in arm placement, and besides you should use your arms for balance, not lifting. The better of the other rollers are PerfectAbs ($70; 800-808-9700). Keys AbEx ($80; 800-683-1263), Ab Roller Plus ($90; 800-684-8866), and Ab Sculptor ($80; 800-682-3733).  The last is a close version of the Ab Trainer but with a foldable design that makes it a bit wobbly.  PerfectAbs and Keys AbEx are virtually identical – Keys licensed its design to Guthy-Renker, which promotes PerfectAbs.  Both have comfortable head rests and steel-frame arm bars and sit solidly with minimal side-sway.  The only difference is the pivot base on PerfectAb, also found on other rollers, like the Ab Roller Plus.  I thought the base might add stability, but for me it did the opposite: It tended to scoot along the floor.  Ab Roller Plus, with an optional mat, is close to the other three in quality and sturdier than the Ab Sculptor, but it lacks an adjustable bar and suffers from  a thin head rest that digs into your neck.  I never got used to it. A number of other brands – the Ab Roller ($60), the CSA Ab Toner ($80), Abs by Health Rider ($80), Weider Ab Roller ($70), and QVC’s Weslo Crunch Force ($48) – fall into a vast middle range of mediocrity.  They’re just not especially well-made , and with this much choice, why bother? At the west end is junk like the Abs of Steel Machine ($60), a mat-mounted roller with durability of a drining starw, and the various non-roller types such as the Ab Isolater ($30), the Stealth Bomber-styled AbFlex ($60), and EZ Krunch ( $40), a mounted tube you hold between your knees while bending forward, lending a rather unsavory appearance to the exercise. The anomaly in the current ab boom is the AbWorks by NordicTrack ($120; 800-236-5139).  It’s a downtown-cool: all black, with handles, leg-lift rollers, and levers.  Instead of the roller design, it has two interfacing, hinged padded steel boards. Lying on them, you grip the hand bars and crunch.  The boards bend at about the shoulder-blade level, supporting the neck and back.  But the bio-dynamics are wacky – rather than easing the strain, as the rollers do, the AbWorks actually makes crunches more difficult.  The one thing the machine does that the others don’t is work the abs effectively (the roller instructions videos all show how to do leg lifts and reverse crunches, but the machines act solely as a hand rest).  For that reason, I’d still rank it in the top five.  But try it in a store first to make sure you can actually use it. 
For me, once all the testing was through, that unruly beast motivation was the best justification for buying a machine.  After three weeks of daily sampling, I found my abs to be better toned with noticeable flattening in the upper belly.  If I am still using a machine a year from now, I’ll figure Brown succeeded in his stated goal ‘to invent a piece of home equipment people would actually use.’  If not, I’ll invite him to my garage sale. 
* Rod Davis

A Spot Check on Weight Work

Lifting weights is usually a solitary pursuit, even in a crowded gym.  But to get great results requires at least occasional human contact: By enlisting the help of a spotter, you can take out extra reps or attempt a new maximum lift without getting squashed under the bar.  But there’s an art both to spotting and being spotted.  Here’s how to hone the craft:


HOW TO SPOT

Establish a game plan.

Before your spottee attempts a lift, ask how many reps he plans to do before calling in the cavalry.  But don’t zone out during his first few reps or get in a debate about welfare reform.  Your charge may overestimating his abilities, and you may need to be ready to rescue him at  split-second’s notice.

Put your hand in the right place. 

If you’re acting a spot on the bench press or another exercise with a bar, place your hands on or right near the bar. If your spottee is doing a dumb bell exercise, such as an incline chest press, cradle his elbows with your hands

Don’t over-spot. 

You’re there to help the guy – not to do the work for him.  Don’t deny the glory of finishing some tough reps on his own.


HOW TO BE SPOTTED

Give specific orders.

For instance, if you want your spotter to help you lift the bar off the rack, make it clear whether you want him to lift the bar on the count of three or after the count of three.  A small misunderstanding can cause a big injury.

Keep you age out of it. 

Stick to your own agenda. Don’t try to match your partner lift for lift. And don’t don’t attempt a new maximum lift more often than every three weeks.                                                              
* Suzanne Schlosberg