Upon taking in a 15-hour Rocky movie marathon on TNT, it oc­curred to me that Sylvester Stallone gets older yet somehow buffer with each Roman numer­al added to his sweaty saga. I wondered: Could Balboa’s unorthodox training routines transform me from a keyboard-pecking pansy into a jaw-crushing monster? Full of enough moxie (and Mr. Pibb soda) to find out, I hired Dean Bellantoni, co-owner of LA Boxing in Secaucus, N.J., to cram as many Rocky techniques into a workout routine as possible, and then to set up a fight with some impossibly huge bad guy to gauge my ripped results. I also enlisted George Foreman, Dolph Lundgren (Ivan Drago himself!) and Bruce Silverglade, owner of legendary Gleason’s Gym in Brooklyn, to give expert input on the ridiculous exercises I’d perform. OK, enough talk—time to throw on a too-tight gray sweat suit and find me some eye of the tiger!


1. The Rockout: Beat Your Meat
As seen in: Rocky

The scene: When Rocky entered Paul-ie’s Shamrock Meats workstation, the slabs of beef never knew what hit ’em. So would I whack the meat, or would the meat whack me?

Gaining access to a meat locker took a lot of calling and begging until I finally got the OK from 81-year-old New York City steakhouse Gallagher’s. (If it doesn’t work for you, the beef aisle at your local grocery store will have to do.) After I did some jumping jacks to get my pulse and body temp up (who’d have thought that meat lockers are cold?), my trainer shouted commands like “jab!” and “upper cut!” and I let loose on some aged sirloin. Holy Lord, did it hurt. A few punches into this workout, I found that my hand swelled up quicker than Kirstie Alley attacking an Arby’s spread.

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I moved on from the aged stuff and found that the fresher flesh gave a little bit more, but I couldn’t help but yelp whenever I hit bone. After 30 minutes, I worked up a decent sweat bruising a bovine that would soon yield eight 20-ounce steaks for the day’s lunch crowd, but my inability to maintain a rhythm with the constantly moving cadavers, coupled with my aforementioned agony, did not a good workout make. Stallone himself has said that he permanently flattened his knuckles when he got a little too method acty while filming the famous scene.

The overall experience—apart from kind of learning how to play through pain—left my hands in tatters and seriously had me considering a vegetarian lifestyle change.

I didn’t see the pros of Rocky’s meat-pounding session, and George Foreman agrees with my grade-D assessment: “There’s no upside to this—especially if it’s aged, I would just eat it,” he says. “A water bag is better on your hands than meat or a leather punching bag.” Gee, George, glad you told me that after I turned my knuckles into bloody hamburger.


2. The Rockout: Be a Step Monster
As seen in: Rocky I, II, V, and Balboa

The scene: The 72-step sprint up to the Philadelphia Museum of Art—a staple in nearly every Rocky flick—that has been replicated by each fanny-packed tourist visiting the city of brotherly love since Rocky premiered in 1976.

My New York equivalent was the slightly less landmarky, and certainly less steppy, Bethesda  Terrace stairs in Central Park. I expected to deal with burning quads, but a few ascents into my workout, I was dealing with an unexpected issue: my intimate areas were chafed raw by my cheap-ass Rocky sweat suit. But ailing areolae aside, the steps provided a healthy strain on not only my legs but the overall core of the body. This felt like a legitimate workout!

Still, I couldn’t help feeling I could do the same thing in a gym while watching a very special episode of Two and a Half Men. And according to Foreman, I should trust my gut. “Stairs are murderous,” he says. “My legs were so sore from stair running that I almost messed up my fight with Joe Frazier in Jamaica. Stick to the StairMaster—much better on your knees.”


3. The Rockout: Choke Your Chicken
As seen in: Rocky II

The scene: When a befuddled Rocky asks Mickey why he is being asked to chase a chicken, the lovable grump replies in part, “Because chicken chasing is how we always used to train in the old days. If you can catch this thing, you can catch greased lightning!”

The ability to catch greased lightning seemed important to me as far as ass-beating skills go, so I headed off to Brooklyn’s La Gallina live poultry market to match my footwork against some fast and furious feathers. Stepping inside the building, I was immediately greeted by the sour smells of coagulated blood and the jarring sight—particularly at 10 in the morning—of two hens being mercilessly relieved of their heads by the market’s proprietor. I immediately wanted to abandon this task but figured maybe the smell of blood was all part of the toughening process. I decided to trust in Mickey’s wisdom.

The proprietor plucked me a caged feathery friend, and I headed to a nearby yard to begin the chase. One problem: Foghorn wouldn’t flee. In fact, the seemingly high hen barely moved. I felt like a complete jackass trying to chase something that just stood there. The only sweating I did was inspired by viewing more butchering once I returned my doomed pal to his tiny little cage. Was it me, or is this chicken-chasing exercise totally clucked?

Silverglade from Gleason’s Gym leans toward the latter. “Chasing chickens won’t do you any good. Rocky won the Academy Award for scenes like this. Like when they cut his eyelid in the ring? That wouldn’t be done anywhere in the world. It’s against the law!” Foreman is not so fast to discount barnyard pals as workout partners but tweaked Balboa’s choice in animal: “I wouldn’t chase chickens—I would chase cattle. They’re unpredictable and if you can get them to go where you want them to go? Then you know you’ve got yourself in good shape. It takes a lot to defeat wild animals.” Except maybe if you’re holding a hatchet.