Photo: Jose Mandojana
JAKE SHANE IS staring at the pullup bar like it owes him money. The comedian-influencer, best known for his gonzo social media posts and his chatty, heartfelt podcast, Therapuss, doesn’t often look so steely. His fans — 1.7 million strong on Instagram — are more accustomed to seeing the elastic-faced Shane clowning as a USB cable struggling to mate with an outlet (“I don’t know if it’s going to work tonight, honestly…”), a quivering app about to be deleted (“Hold on to Instagram!”), or the disciple who receives the bill at the Last Supper (“Just because you make [the wine] yourself doesn’t mean they’re not going to charge us — it’s like a bottle fee”).
Today, though, Shane is here to see if he can convincingly play the guy no one laughs at. A group of publicists and content creators for Alo — for whom he’s an unofficial ambassador — are gathered at the swanky Beverly Hills apparel store and wellness club to witness whether he can pull it off with a straight face.
Shane swings his arms like a boxer entering the ring, climbs onto the machine, and starts pulling. His form is solid, and at the top of each rep, the flexed muscles in his lower back form a Christmas tree.
Eight reps. Shane drops off the bar, the badass act gone. His eyes go wide, and he grins like he can’t quite believe it himself.
“Riiight?”
Not long ago, he says, even one assisted pullup was a struggle. A treadmill walk was a tough workout. When he shared shirtless photos, it was for laughs.
Jake Shane training at the Alo club, in Los Angeles. Photo: Jose Mandojana
The Turning Point
Then, a year and a half ago, his trainer — an affable Brit named Louis Chandler — lowered the boom. Yes, Shane was showing up, but he was only half committed. If he dialed it in — workouts, food, sleep, water — he could make an impressive change.
To underscore the point, Chandler took a shirtless photo of the 5’3”, 136-pound Shane, who sent it to his management team expecting the normal reaction: funny guy without a shirt. “They were like, You actually look good,” says Shane. “And I was like, Oh, really?”
The nudge was all the 26-year-old needed. No more skipping leg day. Lots of protein. Fewer carbs. Tons of water. Slowly, the transformation began. Today, he’s posing for photos that will be seen by an entirely new audience, and it’s clear he has the whole package: arms, traps, back, legs. For the first time, Shane doesn’t look like he’s in on the joke. He looks genuinely — and justifiably — proud.
Trainer Louis Chandler checks Shane’s form. Photo: Jose Mandojana
The Workout
The pattern — intense and focused while he lifts, loose and chatty between sets — continues for his entire workout. A superset of TRX pushups and pullups. An explosive landmine press. Sled pushes with almost 300 pounds of resistance.
As he catches his breath, Shane launches into a rant about the AssaultBike. “Once,” he recalls, “I was so tired after riding it that I lay down on the floor panting for five minutes.”
Then he lights up: “Wait, should I show you guys?” Chandler says, “Let’s do it at the end.”
They move on to hanging leg raises, lying Swiss ball passes, and battle ropes. Following a week of body-part split workouts — legs, chest and back, arms and shoulders — today is about fat loss and athleticism, two major pillars of Shane’s transformation.
“He is someone that goes to the gym five times a week, that focuses on his eating and his health when maybe that wasn’t a part of his lifestyle and personality before,” says Chandler. Now, he affirms, “he’s bought in.”
Photo: Jose Mandojana
Finding a New Lane
For comedians, getting fit can complicate the brand. Shane knows that being aspirational and being relatable don’t coexist easily. Can he be a funny guy who’s also jacked?
“If I look good and talk about my insecurities,” he acknowledges, “it won’t land as hard as when I looked bad and talked about my insecurities.” His solution? “I just need to find a new lane to make fun of myself that’s not my body.”
The workout’s almost over. Shane mounts the AssaultBike, the machine that used to lay him flat. He pedals and pumps as the fan whooshes louder. Chandler counts the seconds. “Come on, big finish… time!”
And the grin is back. “When I feel like I’m in shape, I go back into this cycle of ‘Okay, now I need to dress cool. Now I need to be with the cool kids.’” But cool is for the overcoiffed, plastic surgery set. He’s after something more authentic. “If I continue working out and looking good and continue being myself,” he says, “that’s going to be a more interesting combination than anything else I could manufacture.”
