Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.


RN: What’s going on? I can’t tell if you’re blinking, or wincing.


CP: At my age, what’s the difference?


RN: Yes, dear. At least you didn’t say “our” age. Phew.


CP: If you must know, I’m wincing a bit more than my usual grimace.


RN: I also noticed that each step you’re taking in those highly covetable tennis shoes of yours appears to be leading you on a new adventure in pain. What’s going on?


CP: In a word: lunges. As in big steps across the floor, including a deep squat with a 15-pound medicine ball clutched to my chest. You try it sometime.


RN: Uh-huh. Remember, you’re talking to an inherently lazy person who eats for a living. Unless there’s a towering slice of Patti­cake from Yum! Kitchen and Bakery waiting for me on the other side of the room as my reward, I don’t see this happening anytime soon.


CP: I guarantee you will opt for the standing desk at work, as sitting is nearly impossible, and rising from a seated position is not really on the agenda.


RN: I feel for you. And you are doing this because?


CP: I have a personal trainer. It’s like having a therapist, but with kettlebells, and no couch.


RN: I’m guessing the fee is slightly higher than our medical plan’s co-pay. Not that we can place a price on our physical well-being.


CP: I treated myself to four hourlong sessions with Mike at our gym. He put my dully repetitive gym routine in an Osterizer and pushed “frappé.”


RN: He’s a regular in my spin class, and my role model. Xcel Energy could hook his bike up to the power grid, and his vigorous pedaling could electrify Minneapolis.


CP: A totally worth-it splurge that already has rendered me nearly unrecognizable. Are you going to copy me, again?


RN: I dunno. I just gave your shoulder a friendly pat and you crumpled like all of my half-wit attempts at soufflés. That can’t be good.


CP: No pain, no gain, bro. Mike has taught me about such arcane practices as “the ladder,” the crab walk and Tabata.


RN: I’m not sure I want to know about that last one, but I’m guessing it’s related to Jewish mysticism. Oh, wait. That’s Kabbalah.


CP: Madonna has taught us that Kabbalah and weight training are a mere stone’s throw apart.


RN: Does he have you climbing a rope? Seeing the one hanging from the ceiling in the CrossFit section of our gym brings back all kinds of adolescent insecurities.


CP: I didn’t have to climb it. That would’ve been a major embarrassment, as I might not have been able to get my feet off the ground. But there was some kind of reverse pushup thing that involved the rope. Made me feel very boot camp-y.


RN: Are you training in the private workout area? I would insist.


CP: If only. My training has been out in the middle of the gym. You know me, Mr. Fishbowl.


E-mail: witheringglance@startribune.com

Twitter: @claudepeck and @RickNelsonStrib