A couple weekends ago, the Sunday New York Times featured an article in the Styles section, which focused on New York City gym goers. You may remember the quaint little piece, titled 24 Hour Sweaty People, which followed anonymous quasi-celebs and magazine editors around the Lafayette St. Crunch.

And because our in shape Intern Zack earns his cash as a paid employee of New York University by holding up the fort at the school's gym, former NYC hotspot The Palladium, we thought it might be fun to do a little NYU version of the sweaty story.

What kind of secrets does NYU's always crowded gym hold in the summer time? We've heard rumors of certain NYU alum cum media members picking up freshman on the rowing machines, and of girls dressing up as fake Olsen twins during the school year. But, we wanted Zack to put his journalism school skills to good use and do some quasi actual reporting. You know, on NYU's dime.

After the jump, an attempt at Times style analysis of 9 hours of glistening college students. And try to keep your keys from getting too sticky …

8 am-11:30 am: The Hardcore Athletes

NYU's Palladium Athletic Facility opens every morning at 8 am, when self-respecting college students are still passed out in an post-intoxication haze. At this hour, the only people that frequent Palladium are hardcore gym-goers, middle-aged marathon runners, and obscenely large body-builders. Aka, sober dorks.

11:30am-1pm: The Booty Shorts Gang

Girls usually saunter in groups of two or three, sporting the always classy booty shorts and tank-top — an outfit that's not only sporty, but is great for showing the body parts they're most proud of. These girls usually stick to the cardio room downstairs, where most of the failed pickup attempts go on. Drew, and NYU junior confesses, "Yeah, they all pretty much have sticks up their asses." And that's exactly where everyone is looking. Especially when these chicks try to climb the freakin' rock wall.

12pm-5pm: Sleeveless Dudes with Protein Shakes

Grunts and moans of extreme physical exertion fill the weight room. It has the unmistakable scent of man-sweat and testosterone. The inhabitants are usually parading around solo, because they think they seem more bad ass that way. And they are mostly dejected frat boys with few actual friends. Protein shakes in hand, these dudes wear patented sleeveless shirts proudly so everyone can see their hard-earned, chiseled, barbed wired tattooed biceps. Of course the weight-room is covered in mirrors, so these latter day Adonises can admire themselves at any angle.

See what you're missing by being old and working out at some non-exclusive downtown gym?

Earlier: The New York Times is Making You Fat