Nick Jasset works remotely as Chief Product Officer for a restaurant technology company based in London — flexible hours that happen to line up perfectly with Prototype's noon class. He and his wife Hilary have two young kids, regulars in what he calls the gym's "unofficial community babysitting program." But Nick didn't walk through the door looking for community. He walked in because he needed to lift.
He'd spent years bouncing between sports — competitive ice hockey growing up and at Middlebury College, then CrossFit and tennis, then cycling and jiu-jitsu. By the time he found Prototype, BJJ and cycling were most of his routine, and something was missing. A recent round of bloodwork had come back with his testosterone lower than he wanted, and his doctor's advice was direct: get back into strength training. That was the push.
"I mostly just wanted to lift. I wanted to improve my testosterone levels, get stronger, and get back into having weights as part of my routine. I was not at all excited about the metcon side of CrossFit."
— NickHe wasn't shopping for a CrossFit gym. He was hoping to find somewhere he could squat and deadlift, get in, and get out. "Can I just squat and deadlift and call it a day?" was more or less the pitch he gave himself.
Turns Out It Wasn't Just About the Weights
What actually happened surprised him. The conditioning work he'd planned to tolerate became something he looks forward to. In jiu-jitsu, going all-out isn't really an option — gas out and you're useless to your training partner. At Prototype, the intensity is his to set. "You're in control of the whole thing," he says. "I actually look forward to that now — the feeling of going to a place where the goal is to leave absolutely nothing behind."
The other surprise was the community itself — a word Nick admits he'd always found a little cheesy, conjuring up images of a stiff, formal social club standing in for real relationships. Prototype turned out to be simpler than that. "You show up, people know you, they're happy you're there, they care about how you're doing, and it becomes a real part of your life."
"You show up, people know you, they're happy you're there, they care about how you're doing, and it becomes a real part of your life."
— NickCoach BZ, who runs the noon class Nick trains in, has become a fixture of that experience — bringing energy that keeps the room loose without losing focus, and giving members enough personal attention that showing up consistently feels easy rather than like an obligation.
The proof shows up in the work itself. Nick recently hit a lifetime PR on his front squat — a lift he's stronger on now, at 35, than he ever was earlier in life. He can operate at a high heart rate for far longer than before, and he's more athletic across the board than he's been in years. For someone who works remotely and, with two young kids, isn't out building a wide social circle, Prototype has become the thing anchoring him to Westborough. "I'd definitely feel more disconnected from the area," he says, thinking about what life would look like without it.
Nick came in for the barbell. He didn't expect the conditioning, and he really didn't expect the community. That's the part of his story he wants other skeptics to hear. "The biggest thing is that you don't have to come in as a 'CrossFit person.' I didn't. I came in because I wanted to lift weights. The rest — the conditioning, the community, the friendships — was the stuff I didn't know I was looking for."
