This weekend I attended a birthday party for my friend Stephen, who lives in one of those one-story bungalow-apartments that are ubiquitous in LA.  Snaking amongst dozen or so buildings is a labyrinth of footpaths along which a person deprived of a compass and/or breadcrumbs is inclined to get lost. 

I was sent out of the apartment at one point to fetch a pacifier from our car, and made my way along the footpaths in what I thought was the right direction. 

I must have taken a wrong turn, however, because I found myself at a dead-end, staring into the eyes of a man who identified himself only as "Frank": 

Frank was in the middle of a workout.  Undeterred by lack of space, privacy, or equipment, Frank was putting in some serious work.  It was unclear whether he was in fact a resident of the magic bungalows or if he just availed himself of this enclosed, secret spot for his impromptu gym setup.  While I was standing there, he whipped through a set of water-filled-bleach-bottle overhead presses, triceps extensions, and squat-and-presses that would do any Gold's-member proud:

i spoke with Frank for a moment about his gym:  along with the bleach bottles, he also had some random dumbbells strewn about, a couple of mats and benches made from dairy crates, as well as an improvised ab wheel made from a 10-pound weight plate and a steel rod, and a "heavy bag":

Frank told me a bit about his workouts:  basically it sounds like he does everything he can think of, all day, every day.  After a bit he told me how to get to the parking lot and then back to Stephen's apartment.

I told Frank he looked like he had everything he needed in his little gym, but he disagreed:  "What I could really use," he said, "is a couple of those big five-gallon water jugs.  Those weigh up to fifty pounds when you fill 'em up all the way.  You can get a great workout with those." 

I know them well.  In fact, I've got a half-dozen of them in my own little gym setup.  They're great for Farmer's Walks, overhead presses, sprint carries...a very versatile piece of pain-in-the-butt, real-world training equipment. 

Next time I drop by Stephen's place I think I'll drop a couple of them off at Frank's gym.  Assuming I can find my way back.