People have asked me why I hate sports but love weightlifting.
It’s true I have no time for sports except bodybuilding- though I have yet to compete.
When I was younger it was ego.
I admit it-no lies here.
I wanted a trim carved physique that girls loved and guys hated. Having broke bones and had surgeries etc for 3 years straight this became my outlet. I had played tennis, track, and soccer before but books always held my attention not sports. Well, books and girls.
I love the results
There is nothing quite like the rush of conquering the weight- at least for me.
And most guys who lift and try to get to the big boy numbers will concur. Shattering your numbers, smashing expectations- and the pump, oh wee the pump is
The engorged feeling we in the gym fondly refer to as the pump is an amazing feeling that easily out classes most feelings and sensations.
And as time passes and you begin to see the transformation, aka results the addiction grows. Today I’m only out of the gym because I hurt my toe. Ask my partner- I was in my training gear ready to grin and bear it. But I decided to skip today and go early tomorrow.
That’s right- the pump has me ready to get up Christmas morning and lift weights. Chest in fact will be my focus tomorrow morning.
In my teen years I shattered my right arm.
As in it bent 90 degrees from the wrong point. That point was 3 inches below the wrist joint. Suffice it to say after it being set it moved and had to be re-broke. Bones filed, plates and screws added.
A year later another surgery to remove the plates and screws. The good news was it was my non- dominant hand. The bad news being lefty didn’t save me this time.
A year later I broke my left tibula aka the side bone in my lower leg. On two sides of the bone. Snapped the growth plate too.
Oddly it barely hurt. And I was able to grow equally regardless so I was doubly blessed.
My vertical leap just about caught a few years later- but I never cared.
All this to preface the fact that my body seemed to weak to many- I just had bad luck.
And I learned through these times that I had an indomitable spirit. I learned to walk, to fight fear, to face pain, and too rebuild from scratch. My right arm is actually bigger than my left- despite the compound fracture, the surgeries, and my being left handed.
The leg- eh it is irrelevant as I only run for cardio, but it functions quite nicely as well.
The injuries were the initial fuel. I remember not having to go to gym and then opting to go if I could use the weight room.
I don’t know why, don’t remember.
I’d like to say the weights called to me.
All I know is I started lifting before that.
When I had to use cructhes I’d lie against the wall and put my bookbag on backwards to get a boost in strength.
I walked across central park- west to east, all the way to park ave- on those crutches, with my books, and through a lot of dirt.
I never wanted my injuries to defeat me.
And they never have.
Always remember wanting to be bigI remember being young and telling people I’d be 6’6″ and 250 lbs. The numbers came from who knows where, it was just always in my head.
My dad was tall, about 6’2″ and real strong. He was a wiz with his hands and also good with the martial arts.
I never got taller than him but I don’t think I was really competing with him. He raised me to be someone different from him. And it worked.
However, life has always brought me a healthy desire for more.
I gained 100lbs in my weight and my bench from my initial weight lifting days to the time this article goes to press.
There isn’t much more I can say. Oh, I could write for hours on weights and my love of bodybuilding- but I’m a baby in bodybuilding and a monster in the gym.
Let’s see what new year holds in store for my career, my dreams, and my physique and yours.