After Shane completed several sets of bicep curls in front of the camera, he put down the dumbbells and walked over to check the footage.
Once he confirmed everything was good, he pulled a few more pieces of "equipment" from the pile of junk.
First, he showed off a pair of resistance bands, then he hefted a much more eye-catching "tool."
It was a metal pipe acting as a bar, with fabric wrapped around the middle for grip, and rectangular concrete blocks fixed to both ends. A crude, homemade barbell.
Shane picked up this custom "cement barbell," displayed it to the camera, and walked over to a long wooden bench that was serving as his weight bench.
"These two ugly guys," he said, patting the rough concrete blocks, "are the cornerstones of my 'poor man's bench press.'"
Shane lay down on the bench, took a few deep breaths, and steadily lifted the heavy cement barbell, his chest muscles tightening.
While performing the bench press and keeping his breathing steady, he spoke to the camera:
"This mix of cement and sand is more 'honest' than most of the shiny machines you find in a gym. It won't lie to your muscles. Every ounce of weight requires you to conquer it with real strength."
Next, he demonstrated other homemade equipment, like "makeshift kettlebells" made from large water jugs tied together with zip ties, and a "weighted vest" made from an old backpack filled with sand.
For every piece of "equipment," he explained its use and the logic behind making it in detail, personally demonstrating the relevant exercises.
You ask if the audience will believe it? Just looking at Shane's muscles will convince them of half of it; for the rest, Shane has his ways.
Shane's demonstration was full of professionalism and power. His words were simple yet highly inflammatory. Fused with the dilapidated environment and the crude equipment, he began to build the image of a "striver from the South Side of Chicago."
In 2010, online fitness content was mostly dry tutorial demonstrations. Almost no one tried to combine personal stories and a lower-class background so tightly with fitness methods.
Shane's combo punch was undoubtedly very advanced for this era.
---
During the shoot, after every exercise, Shane would walk behind the tripod to review the footage, occasionally reshooting a certain angle or explanation to ensure the best effect.
Karen stood by the camera, watching his serious profile, her eyes becoming more and more infatuated.
Finally, Shane finished filming all the shots in the basement. A fine layer of sweat had appeared on his body; after all, doing the exercises well and making them look good took some effort.
"You are amazing, Shane!"
Karen hugged his arm directly, her eyes sparkling. "You looked incredible just now! Like you were really glowing! I believe people will definitely watch your videos!"
Looking at the footage on the screen, a sense of accomplishment surged in Shane's heart too.
He turned off the camera and took out the memory card. He wanted to keep the indoor and outdoor footage separate to avoid confusion.
"Step one is finally done." Shane sighed in relief, rubbing his sore shoulders. The repetitive exercise and explaining weren't exactly easy.
Just then, Karen, who had been immersed in excitement, seemed to think of something. The smile on her face faded a little. She tugged at Shane's arm and looked at him with some worry:
"Hey, Shane..."
"Hmm?" Shane turned to look at her.
Karen hesitated but asked anyway:
"If... I mean if, these videos really get seen by a lot of people like you hope... will you leave the South Side? Will you... become different from us?"
Looking at Karen's blue eyes, which were a mix of expectation and anxiety, Shane's heart moved. He knew his unusual behavior lately had made his little girlfriend uneasy.
Moreover, the internet is a double-edged sword. Whether his "South Side inspirational story," based on partial truth and partial "optimization," could withstand the scrutiny of traffic was indeed an unknown variable.
It was possible that what he was doing would bring the opportunities and wealth he dreamed of, or it could bring unpredictable attention, scrutiny, and trouble.
But Shane was fearless. If he worried about negatives before doing anything, if he was timid before crossing over and still timid after, wouldn't he have crossed over for nothing?
After a moment of silence, Shane didn't answer Karen's question directly. He just reached out and ruffled her hair, pulling a relaxed smile:
"Don't think so much. We'll always be together."
Then Shane steered the topic away. "Let's go. Indoor scenes are done. Time to shoot outside."
He tried to pull Karen toward the stairs, but she didn't move.
She looked up at him, ripples already forming in her blue eyes, her gaze overflowing with tenderness.
Before Shane could urge her again, Karen stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her soft lips against his without explanation, blocking his "we're in a hurry" protest right back into his throat.
"Mmm... Karen, we... really are in a hurry..." Shane tried to protest vaguely in the gaps.
Karen's warm breath brushed his cheek, her voice coquettish: "Hey... you can't even spare this little bit of time?"
The basement air began to fill with the restlessness of youth and hormones.
Thoughts of filming plans and future risks were all thrown to the back of his mind in this moment.
It was a good while later before the two walked out of the basement, faces flushed.
After a simple lunch.
Shane carried his old backpack filled with "props," and Karen held the bag with the camera. They smiled at each other, the previous worries seemingly washed away by the moment of intimacy, and began filming the outdoor scenes.
---
Outdoor filming required speed and stealth. They couldn't be as dawdling as they were in the basement because the street thugs wouldn't be polite.
The two shuttled through the old streets of the South Side of Chicago (avoiding dangerous areas), occasionally filming scenes that could reflect the authenticity of his background story.
The camera lens swept quickly across the South Side, capturing the real scenes of certain parts of America at that time:
For example, the camera panned across an alley entrance where a homeless man wrapped in a dirty blanket and layers of plastic bags was huddled, empty alcohol bottles rolling around him.
Then it focused on broken walls covered in profanity and rotten graffiti, finally freezing on a few thugs shivering and stomping their feet on a street corner.
The guys didn't see the camera; they just glanced around vigilantly, their eyes numb yet revealing a hint of irritation.
While filming, Shane was also conceptualizing the voiceover he would add in post-production:
"Look around. This is my daily life. I believe this might be your daily life too. Many people get lost here, thinking their future will be like the trash on the ground—dirty, broken, and hopeless."
When he had filmed enough, he pulled Karen along to find "empty shots" that would better enhance the atmosphere.