In Austin, Texas, on a corner lot that quietly grew into three combined lots, Greg LaVecchia built one of the more deliberately branded home gyms you'll find.
He's the founder of Bloom Nutrition, bootstrapped to $180 million in revenue before ever taking outside money, and the gym carries the same logic as the company: every detail considered, nothing accidental.
Greg works out at least five days a week. The frame he uses is no need to get ready if you stay ready — fitness as readiness, not vanity. The gym is the operational heart of that philosophy, but the property itself does the heavier lifting on the wellness side: wood-burning sauna in the backyard, recovery room with a hyperbaric chamber, a second sauna inside that nobody uses anymore, and three lots stitched together into one of the largest private spreads in central Austin.
Here's the walkthrough.
The Gym
The Bloom Gym is custom-painted in the brand's signature green, with mirrors on every wall and old-school brown leather upholstery on the benches. Most of the equipment was sourced through Chris Howell, Greg's gym plug. The plates and dumbbells were custom-made in Germany and stamped with the Bloom logo.
It is a working gym, not a showroom. But because the colors, materials, and branding are all locked in, it photographs like one.
The important admission comes early: if Greg could only keep one piece, it would be a single squat rack. He says he would have the same physique with just that. Everything else is preference, expansion, and taste.
Around that baseline: two squat racks with different pull-up bar variations, a bench with chains for variable resistance, a landmine-style T-bar row with a custom T-grip, a twin cable rack, a dip bar, and the full spread of barbells, kettlebells, and dumbbells.
The cable wall is built for grip variety. Fat grips, ergonomic single-hand handles, every attachment that changes the line of pull by a few degrees. Greg uses it heavily for triceps and curls; Mari's favorite piece is the T-bar row.
Cardio is more honest than aspirational. The SkiErg is a two-minute warmup primer. The Assault Bike gets used about once every two weeks, delivered with the correct amount of self-roast. The treadmill is mostly for Mari because Greg runs outside.
The small stealable detail is the cork ankle pads. Greg bought them specifically for barefoot ankle mobility work: five minutes each morning to keep his ankles from rolling on hike trails. Cheap, specific, and probably used more than half the expensive gear.
The least subtle detail is the Bloom fridge, built in and fully stocked. Anyone who walks through the door leaves with as many cans as they can carry.
The Garage Floor
The gym shares the building with car storage, and Greg leans into both. The obvious one is the Ferrari 812 Superfast, modified by Bodenhaus: naturally aspirated V12, tracked a few times a year, driven several times a week.
The electric dirt bike is a Stark Varg: 80 horsepower, top speed around 100 mph, headed to the Colorado property next. There is also an older electric dirt bike being phased out for the Stark.
The quiet flex is the off-road camper van. Greg has stayed at some of the best hotels in the world, and his actual favorite memories with Mari are in the van: rainy nights, laptop movies, both dogs on the bed, pancakes in the morning. Most of the national parks, not a lobby bar.
A Porsche Cayenne off-road build, Ford Raptor, and Mari's Range Rover are all in the process of being shipped to Colorado for the family's month-long Aspen stint.
The Backyard
The property is technically three separate lots fused into one. Greg bought the two neighboring lots behind his house after moving in, cleared them, and turned the combined space into a private park.
There is a walking path through the yard, sod across the cleared area, a relocated chicken coop branded as Cluckingham Palace, and a fire pit that allegedly throws eight-foot flames during holiday parties. The property has hosted upwards of 200 people.
The Hike and Bike Trail is directly across the street. In central Austin, that is less a convenience than an architectural feature: one of the city's most-used public paths as an exit point from your own yard.
The yard is informally called Lulu's Park, after the family pitbull, who reportedly does not get along with other dogs and now has her own dog-free 200-yard perimeter to run.
The Sauna
Worth its own section because Greg gives it one. A wood-burning sauna, large enough to fit twelve to fifteen people, sits in the backyard.
This is not just preference. Greg moved to Austin and got initiated into the city's surprisingly intense communal sauna culture: rooms packed with 15-plus people in stretches he describes as casual. Ritual is the operative word.
There is no Bluetooth, no electric panel, no app. To use this sauna, you light the fire yourself. A torch sits next to the unit for that purpose. A massive pile of stones, much larger than a standard sauna setup, sits over the heat source so you can pour real volumes of water and pull big steam.
An app-controlled sauna removes friction. That sounds like a feature. For this kind of room, it is the bug.
This is the sauna Greg actually uses. Most days, in his routine, with friends or with Mari, who just got cleared to return after giving birth.
The Recovery Room
Inside the house, off the main living areas, is the recovery room. Greg's framing is accurate: not very sexy, but it gets the job done.
There is an indoor sauna, installed before the outdoor one was built and now functionally retired. There is a red light therapy panel, used most mornings, naked, full-body. Greg half-jokingly credits it with both fertility and hairline preservation. Take the accounting however seriously you want.
The hyperbaric oxygen chamber gets used a couple times a week. The unit pressurizes to roughly 33 feet below sea level over a 10-minute compression cycle, with a 100% oxygen mask delivering pure O2. Greg uses it for early-morning sessions — 3:30 AM is the example — and reports waking up an hour or two later feeling fully recovered.
There is also a massage table for occasional in-home bodywork: dry needling, acupuncture, traditional massage. Mari coordinates most of it. And because this is still Bloom, the room doubles as overflow inventory.
The Cold Plunge
The cold plunge lives near the gym and has three houses' worth of mileage on it. Greg calls it old-trusty. It can get cold enough to freeze the water into a solid block if he wants it there.
The useful part is timing. He uses it pre-workout or post-run, not immediately post-weights. That lines up with the current hypertrophy read: cold exposure right after lifting can blunt the signal you just trained for. Cold is not bad. Bad timing is bad.
The Bedroom Patio
Off the primary bedroom is a private patio with an outdoor shower and a view of the pool and hot tub. The tour spends limited time here, but it is worth flagging.
Outdoor showers off the bedroom are one of the highest-leverage architectural additions in a warm climate. They change how a patio gets used, how a pool day ends, and how separate the bedroom feels from the rest of the house.
What's Actually Worth Stealing
A single squat rack covers most of what a full home gym does. Greg says it himself. Add pull-up options and you are 80% of the way there.
Custom branding changes behavior. Painted plates, a signature color, one material language. The room becomes a place you respect, not a place you tolerate.
Wood-burning saunas force ritual. Lighting the fire makes the sauna an event. The friction is the point.
Cork ankle pads are cheap insurance. Five minutes of morning ankle mobility is a small habit with an outsized trail-injury payoff.
Cold plunge timing matters. Pre-workout or post-cardio is fine. Immediately post-weights is where you risk blunting the hypertrophy signal.
The Throughline
The defining detail of the Bloom Gym is not the custom plates or the Ferrari parked next door. It is that Greg bootstrapped a $180 million revenue company before taking outside capital, then picked investors for strategic value over check size. The same logic shows up in the gym.
Every piece earns its place. The equipment is functional first and aesthetic second. The most-used items are the simplest ones.
A camper van outranks the hotels. A squat rack outranks the cable stack. A wood-burning sauna outranks the electric one. The pattern is consistent.
Original video
Dream garage, gym, recovery room, and backyard tour
The source tour is embedded here for context; original credit and the YouTube page are linked below.
Compound commentary and curation. Original video, facility tour, and source imagery by Greg LaVecchia.
More Builds:
All Builds
$52M California Wellness Spec House
A $51.98M new-construction reference listing on Ocean Boulevard: 11,628 square feet, five bedrooms, eleven bathrooms, an interior pool courtyard, hydraulic garage, lower-level spa, gym, primary suite, and rooftop terrace.

Kayla Barnes-Lenz's Austin Longevity House
A full home 25 minutes outside Austin, designed around measurement and subtraction. Kayla Barnes-Lenz's residence documented room by room — lighting, air, water, sauna, bedroom, and the products that make it work.

Ben Greenfield's Idaho House
A 10,000-square-foot biohacking house on family land. Copper under the floors, ethernet in every room, a $150K red-light chamber downstairs — designed as generational infrastructure, not a wellness flex.












