Photo by Steve Mellon ~ Story by Bob Batz Jr.

	Click photo for larger image.

There's an unusual new sweatshop in East Liberty called NAKA Fitness.

One customer calls it the "school of hurt."

The principal is "Big Weave."

Around 7:30 on a recent night, loyal students in shorts and tights and bandanas drift into the North Highland Avenue storefront, remodeled this spring into a big white-walled room with a shiny wood floor and a white drop ceiling covered with nine whirring ceiling fans.

You'll soon see why. It's time for the night's second class:

Hip-hop aerobics.

For $5 each, or $40 a month, NAKA offers a growing list of classes: Low-impact, body-cut, African dance, even gospel aerobics. But hip-hop is the hard-core, now four-nights-a-week, twice-nightly staple taught by Jim "Big Weave" Weaver himself, who laughs a bit demonically as he says, "Mine is really rough."

		Take your ears to aerobics class Listen in as Big Weave conducts a workout and talks about NAKA Fitness

The music starts booming as he slides a CD into the player, and he starts booming, too: "All right! Let's go, LET'S GO! Whussup? WHUSSUP?!"

The nickname suits Weaver. He's 180 pounds packed into a 5-foot-6-inch bod, which is impressive even just stretching during warm-ups. One of his disciples cinematically describes him as a man "with the intensity of Louis Gossett Jr. in 'An Officer and a Gentleman' crossed with a body akin to Jamie Lee Curtis' in the movie 'Perfect.' "

A one-time dancer and former fitness instructor at Bally's in Penn Hills, Weaver, 37, decided to open his own workout place this spring. He and his wife, LaTonya, and their two daughters live in Crafton, but he's happy that his business is near his native Homewood so he can "give something to the community." He's been running it around his day job as a cook at Chili's in Ross. Running it and lifting it and kicking it and pushing it.

. NAKA Fitness, at 124 N. Highland Ave., also offers youth classes on Saturdays. Call 412-361-1240, or visit the Web site www.nakafitness.com. "Here" is a weekly feature produced by Post-Gazette photographers and writers who roam the region to capture close-up slices of life. Can you point us to a special person or place, experience or story? E-mail us at here@post-gazette.com. Link to past installments HERE.

"Sweat, sweat and mo' sweat! And mo' sweat after that!" he forewarns, a preacher in white Nikes, blue nylon pants and a baby blue T-shirt. The shirt is from the Weavers' own line of sportswear that bears the logo for NAKA, which stands for their motivational motto: "Nothing Against Kan Achieve."

Weave is hard to resist. When he calls, the class must respond.

Weave: "No pain!"

Class: "No gain!"

Weave: "NO PAIN!"

Class: "NO GAIN!!"

And they're off, following Weave's lead through a series of dance moves timed to the deafening beats: Destiny's Child, Usher, mixes from Baltimore -- whatever moves him.

"Knees up, knees up, KNEES UP!" exhorts Weave, who's working out so hard that his big gold chain whacks his face. Students say his getting into it with them is what makes him such an inspirational leader.

It's only about 15 minutes into the hour class, and Tracy Clark is yelping as if she really is in pain. But, as she says at the end, she's in gain -- achieving her goal of losing "mega" inches.

"He's the best," she says of Weaver, whom she knew as a child. She's been coming here since he opened -- now three nights a week, from Penn Hills -- and says, "This is my niche. I love the music, I love the atmosphere."

The atmosphere is smart and sassy, as Weave teases his students and they give it right back to him.

Weave: "Y'ALL TIRED YET?"

Class: "No!"

Weave: "YOU READY TO QUIT?"

Class: "NO!"

During a rare break, they suck water, wipe their faces with towels. Later, they bring out weights. By the time they roll out their exercise mats, some look ready just to lie down.

"Don't make me get mad!" warns Weave, whose blue shirt is dark around the neck and atop his boulder shoulders.

Weave: "How do you feel?"

"Good," a few yell, but that's not the answer Weave wants, so he repeats the question.

"GREAT!" a few students respond. But he asks again.

"READY TO DO SOME MO'!" Tracy Clark screams, breathless but beaming. One-two-three ...

Cool air and the neon glow of Capri Pizza across the street seep in through the front door, which Weaver leaves open so the neighbors can peek in and see what the heck is going on.

After an hour, muscles are protesting and so are the exercisers, but Weave keeps them a little longer before letting them go. "I'll take it out on you tomorrow," he says, adding with a cocky grin, "If you stay with me a whole day, I make you like Janet Jackson -- in one day."

Someone in the class has the answer for that:

"Janet Jackson ain't got nothin' on us!"