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Punk Fitness founder: Remembering Julie Hecker
When I first met Julie Hecker, it was some time back in the mid aughts – I’m guessing 2004 or so. She was a bundle of irrepressible energy, like a golf ball richocheting off the walls of a tile bathroom. It wasn’t manic energy, though, it was infectiously positive energy, like a little girl bursting with good news that she just couldn’t wait to share.
And Julie definitely had a childlike charm; she was always upbeat, always encouraging, always supportive.
I learned today that Julie unexpectedly passed away, leaving behind her husband and two children, and the legacy she built in Detroit: Punk Fitness.
Julie was an old-school punk rocker, and a professional aerobics instructor. Although she loved her job, the music played by most of her colleagues made her gag – so she decided to marry her two interests and conjured up the idea of Punk Fitness – aerobics in a bar.
Yes, you heard that right – aerobics in a bar.
I think we all had the same reaction. What? Are you crazy? You want me to lie down on the floor of a bar? Ew!
But Julie was way ahead of us; she proved us all wrong.
I remember showing up at one of – if not the very first – Punk Fitness classes, a shy and nervous group of tattooed punk rock and pinup girls in tattered band t-shirts and all-black workout attire. Would the other bar patrons stare at us? Would we look dumb? Would the floor be totally nast?
Our worries quickly vanished as soon as Julie hit play on her iPod and we started warming up to the Stooges. Strength training? Here, use some tension bands while we pump up the Joan Jett. Cardio? Slam dancing to the Ramones and hula hooping to the B52s. And pretty soon it wasn’t just five girls on the stage at the Belmont; soon Punk Fitness was hosting capacity classes three nights a week at bars throughout Metro Detroit.
The appeal wasn’t surprising: Julie was immediately likable, and not just because she was the antithesis of one of those bleach blonde tanorexic fucksticks (but that was certainly a plus). Julie stood apart with her inviting and positive approach towards fitness. She encouraged her students to take pride, not shame, in our bodies; she didn’t scream at us to burn off that ugly fat or any of the other body-hatred toxicities spewed by others in her line of work; she spoke of moderation and balance, and encouraged us to join her for a beer after class, telling us we’d worked hard and we deserved it.
I don’t have a lot of happy memories from Detroit in the last two years before I left; but Punk Fitness classes are by far some of the best. I was mired in a nasty depression that seemed inescapable; but after I dragged myself to Punk Fitness at the Belmont on Tuesday nights, I left feeling 100% better, lighter, and happier. It wasn’t just the adrenal burst from the physical activity; it was the great music, Julie’s infectious enthusiasm, and the unbeatable appeal of wildly dancing and jumping around a bar like a crazy person with zero inhibitions, surrounded by several dozen women doing just the same, and moving solely for the pure sake of the joy within the music.
I will never forget doing crunches on the cement patio of the Belmont in the sticky, oppressive air of a Detroit summer night – my head resting on my bath towel, staring up at the stars overhead. When a curious bar patron stuck his head through the patio door to lewdly ogle us, Julie popped up and shamed him mercilessly until he sat down and joined us for the rest of the set.
I will never forget dragging ass through three fucking feet of snow for a class at the Berkeley Front; we had the entire upper floor all to ourselves, and as I was working my way through band strengthening exercises, watching the snow silently fall through the full length windows while sweating it out to the Cramps and David Bowie and the Sex Pistols… well, those were the precious few moments where everything didn’t seem so bad after all.
And I will never forget Julie’s seemingly bottomless well of enthusiasm and determination. She carved out a tremendously inspirational, irreverent and meaningful slice of counterculture within the Detroit scene. She has touched the lives of many, and will be missed beyond words. I wish I had a chance to tell her how much she touched mine, and how grateful I am to have known her.
I don’t actually know if I believe in Heaven or not; but if I did, I’d tell the angels to take off their halos and get ready for one hell of a workout. The mental image of St Peter doing crunches to Iggy Pop… well, only Julie could pull that off.
Sarah Klein is a writer and editor who lives in Oakland, California. She’s a former Metro Times staff writer, editor and columnist.
Julie Hecker (photos by Doug Coombe)
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