Men’s Health magazine launched in 1987, the year I graduated high school and began college. For the last 22 years, a period that has taken me to the cusp of my 40th birthday, I’ve been a loyal reader and/or subscriber. I’ve written a handful of stories for MH. Its parent company, Rodale, published the first four Core Performance books I’ve had the honor of writing with Mark Verstegen, himself a MH columnist until recently.

But the June 2009 issue will be my last. Maybe I no longer fit the MH demographic, but the magazine has morphed into something I no longer find useful, compelling, or even interesting.

For years, MH provided cutting edge research on fitness trends, nutrition, and performance. There’s still a taste of that in each issue, though for the most part it’s become just another celebrity-obsessed, New York-centric, jock-sniffing rag catered to the ADHD 18-to-34 male demographic whose main goal, apparently, is to impress 24-year-old actresses.

I was hoping the June issue would change my mind and, indeed, I felt a sense of sadness when it arrived with a “LAST ISSUE” warning and a come-on to renew my subscription, one of no doubt dozens I’ll receive in the coming months.

I began to turn the pages hoping to see a glimpse of the former MH. Instead, I was reminded of the many reasons why I’ll be getting one less magazine.

Admittedly, these are brutal times for the magazine business. Fast Company tried to lure me back the other day with a renewal rate of $10 for three years. (Not $10 annually, $10 for three years.) As someone who makes a living in part by writing for glossies, I feel the pain more than most. I understand the need to constantly evolve and the “meet the demands of readers,” whatever that means.

What I don’t get is the need to focus to no end on celebrities, preferably those with a connection to New York City. Every media outlet is guilty of this. It’s why ESPN does not go 10 minutes on any of its platforms without mentioning Brett Favre, even if there’s nothing new to report. It’s why athletes with above-average skills (Jason Sehorn, Jeremy Shockey) become larger-than-life figures. It’s why a no-talent nobody like Kim Kardashian can become famous for….what, exactly?

But MH always was different. Its covers always featured some anonymous fitness model displaying his eight-pack abs and rippling physique. So what if the guy starved himself for weeks leading up to the shoot and followed a training regimen that perhaps included a at least a few things that can’t be found in your local GNC. This is what loyal readers of MH like me wanted.

Then, in 2004, the magazine jumped the shark when Editor David Zinczenko began putting celebrities and athletes on the cover exclusively – with their shirts on. Initally, this wasn’t such a bag thing. There was a terrific feature on Matthew McConaughey and all of his crazy workout routines. McConaughey is a legitimate athlete, posting a competitive time in last year’s Malibu Triathlon. A few months later, MH profiled Sean William Scott, best known for playing Stiffler in the “American Pie” movies. Not exactly an A-list celebrity, but he did have some useful workout tips. Clearly this was a guy who took care of his body.

Unfortunately, MH soon discovered what’s obvious to anyone who follows Hollywood. Most actors (and actresses) are chain-smoking, hard-drinking hedonists who get into shape only when roles require it, with the help of accomplished, highly-paid trainers, nutritionists, nannies, and handlers. Exhibit A: Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, who have done more to promote smoking than anyone not named Strom Thurmond.

Even a magazine with the clout of MH had trouble landing the likes of Pitt. So it took a familiar page out of the celebrity magazine playbook, featuring up-and-coming stars of new movies. Early in 2007, MH profiled Gerard Butler, the lead actor in the Spartan-themed film 300, which inspired men everywhere to start performing crunches. For an ab-obsessed magazine like MH, edited by best-selling “Abs Diet” co-author Zinczenko, 300 was a godsend.

The movie aside, Butler wasn’t quite MH material. During the few hours he spent with a writer from MH (in New York, of course), he never stopped smoking. But, hey, at least he had washboard abs for a few months during the filming of 300.

Thus began a pattern of MH giving a pass to smokers. Never was this more evident than a recent issue that featured the nation’s First Cancer Stick Consumer, President Barack Obama. Though the media dutifully has avoided reporting on or shooting photos of Obama smoking, he’s by all accounts had trouble kicking a longtime habit. (The tight, parsed skin and baritone voice might be a giveaway.) Not so, according to MH, which reported that Obama was only an occasional smoker who had beaten the habit with nicotine gum.

Which brings us to the current cover boy, Ewan McGregor. Unlike most celebrity subjects in MH and other magazines, McGregor granted the writer more than the traditional 90-minute chat over lunch in a trendy NYC restaurant. Instead, they met for a hike in Malibu Creek State Park, which fit the theme of the profile of McGregor as a seize-the-day, man-of-adventure kinda guy.

There’s a lot to like about McGregor. I’ve always admired how he keeps his private life private. We’re about the same age, both with two kids (he adopted a third), and both married more than a decade. I haven’t seen many of his films, but thought he was terrific as Obi Wan Kenobi in the Star Wars prequel trilogy.

Unfortunately, as author David Hochman notes, “McGregor is not the complete Men’s Health guy. He hates the gym. Free weights, circuit training, treadmills – they bore him. “Oh and squats,” he says, as we head down the coast. “They make me angry and nauseous.”

McGregor notes that he smoked for years and hints at periods of heavy drinking. These days, his workout routine consists solely of five-mile runs with an occasional eight miler. In other words, the typical American long, slow distance “workout” that does nothing but produce overuse injuries.

Among McGregor’s fitness pearls of wisdom: “Stop drinking and you’ll lose weight.”

Then there’s this: “What matters most with any regimen, whether it’s to lose weight or stop drinking or smoking, is you willingness to seek help and your desire to say, ‘no more.’ The voice in your head that says ‘I choose not to’ is what ultimately makes the difference between not changing and making changes that last.”

Willpower! Who knew? Thanks for the takeaway, Obi Wan!

McGregor is hardly the only celebrity featured in the June MH. Among the other “gets” is somebody named Tyrese Gibson, star of the upcoming “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.” There’s even an odd mini-profile on Danica Patrick’s father and how he contributed to her competitive fire.

Danica, of course, is one of the most accomplished female athletes in sports. Her husband is a physical therapist for the Oakland A’s. She trains hard and is on the cover of the June issue of Shape magazine.

Of course, nothing says “accomplished female athlete” and “competitive fire” more than a black-and-white photo of Patrick in a low-cut dress wearing an annoyed expression while standing in the desert in front of a vintage Cadillac.

That’s the image MH uses for Patrick. Perhaps the art director thought MH was shooting one of its usual features on 24-year-old starlets offering advice on how to impress women. The June Babe of the Month is someone named Jessica Szhor, who is pictured eating (or at least holding) a piece of chocolate cake and claims she “eats like a man,” scarfing down hamburgers.

Now I might not know much about impressing 24-year-old actresses (or those of any other age), but I’ve dealt with enough prominent 24-year-old pro athletes to know that they live in a world that most of us can’t comprehend. How this is applicable to the life of the average MH reader is anyone’s guess.

Thankfully, MH still offers some meaty stories from the likes of decorated magazine writers like Bob Drury. The June issue includes a terrific seven-page investigation into the dangers of men eating soy protein. Written by the aptly-named Matt Bean, the story shows that soy is an estrogen precursor that will lead to decreased testosterone production, diminished libido and Alex Rodriguez-sized man boobs.

It’s a thorough examination of the topic, with numerous experts and studies quoted, just the type of helpful piece that MH became famous for. Unfortunately, the topic is at least two years old, previously featured in other magazines.

A decade ago, MH would have been the first to report stories like this. Instead, it stopped identifying trends and started reporting on them. No doubt this story came out of some meeting of editors, at least one of whom read a story on the dangers of soy…somewhere else!

It’s a symptom of magazine myopia. Editors, most of which live in or near New York City, believe they have their fingers on the pulse of America. If it’s not happening in NYC, it’s irrelevant. It’s why most magazine stories in MH take place in NYC gathering spots and profile young people with jobs that only exist in NYC or Los Angeles such as “publicity assistant” or “assistant book editor.”

No matter that more than 96 percent of Americans live remarkably interesting lives outside of NYC in beautiful places like Emmaus, Pa., home of Rodale and MH headquarters. Zinczenko, according to his publicity materials, splits his time between Emmaus and the company’s New York offices.

There aren’t many triathlons in New York, which might explain why MH has virtually ignored the boom in the endurance sport, continuing to focus mostly on the same tired workouts based on bodybuilding. Even though triathlon represents the hard-charging, Type A, $100,000-plus demographic MH craves – this month’s issue even includes a full-page ad for the Malibu Triathlon – there’s little editorial coverage.

Even highly-regarded, cutting-edge trainers are forced to write recycled pieces like Juan Carlos Santana’s “Chisel Your Chest,” a June issue workout involving various push-up routines. Pick up any previous issue and you’ll find something similar.

As MH has become more celebrity obsessed, it has ventured more into sports, sometimes with disasterous results. Last month, the accomplished writer Joe Kita profiled a training center created by baseball agent Scott Boras for his clients. Boras probably is glad his two most prominent charges, steroid cheats Alex Rodriguez and Manny Ramirez, don’t use his facility. The issue went to press before Ramirez was busted, but after A-Rod comped to using ‘roids, at least during his Texas Rangers years.

Though Boras has by far the most prominent client list in baseball, the only notable guys who seem to train at his facity, according to the story, are Matt Holliday of the A’s and veteran Garrett Anderson of the Atlanta Braves. Left unsaid was why nobody else trains there or a mention of any of the growing number of Boras clients, including A-Rod and Mitchell Report pitcher Kevin Brown, have used performance enhancing drugs.

Kita did his best to write around a story that likely didn’t produce the access he was hoping to receive. Still, are there no baseball fans on the MH editorial staff who could have noticed some glaring flaws in the story?

In fairness to Kita, there are more than a few magazine stories I’d like to have back for revisions. None of those were among the pieces I wrote for Best Life, a short-lived MH spin-off that folded earlier this year. Dedicated to living your “best life” possible, it featured stories on how to improve your life physically, financially, and emotionally. It reminded me a lot of what MH used to be.

Best Life was a victim of the economy, declining advertising, and perhaps the times. There were celebrity profiles, of course, but little advice on bedding 24-year-old actresses, no jock-sniffing sports pieces, and few tired bodybuilding routines.

Those things apparently aren’t part of living your best life.

But what do they have to do with men’s health?