September of 1980. I'd already lost 65 pounds by the end of my senior year in 1979 and was maintaining my weight at about 165 - 170 pounds, although my aunt Mary was convinced I was too skinny. I was living with my cousin Steve in Provo, Utah (yes, Provo) while I was going to school. He had a set of weights and a bench in the basement of his townhouse. You know the kind: cheap, cement-filled plastic discs that had to be bolted onto shoddy bars resting on a bench that could capsize without warning.
In the beginning, the only thing that I could do was to grasp 2, 5 pound weights and lay back on that shaky bench and do pec flys. In no time I graduated from that basement gym to a local community center with real barbells, dumbbells, and cables. I watched others do their workouts and got some basic ideas. I watched a guy, much smaller than me, do the bench press. After he was finished I ponied-up to the bench and loaded the bar with 2, 45 pound plates - the same amount he was using - and promptly dropped it on my chest. I squirmed for a few seconds when the guy, much smaller than me, hurried over and pulled the damn thing off of me.
There were setbacks: Illnesses; aches and pains; minor and major injuries (back surgery required), fitness-anemic schools and people. I look back over 30 years and can't remember any goals that I'd set for myself along the way but I do know I was in love, and continue to be in love with the journey. Lifting is how I learned to become my own healer, a place where I was both student and teacher, a lifestyle that turned into a lifelong passion. This line from my favorite song, that still brings tears to my eyes, sums it up:
"Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own."ASR Search Engine
