Why do we do it?? Why indeed...
I think the answer, as many of you have yet to see, yet to realize, changes over time.
I picked up my first weight at age 13. Dad bought me the old red, white and blue plastic-coated cement weights, with the skinny little bar and the huge metal bar clamps, and a flat bench. I was hooked the minute I touched it. For about 3 years, it probably was about trying to be competitive with other kids my age in the neighborhood.
During highschool, I lifted for football. But just after my sophomore year, while training with weights in the off-season, I joined a real gym for the first time. Hard core, too, for the time (1980). Saw the photos on the walls...Arnold...Padilla ...Mentzer...Sergio...Ro y Calender...Bertil Fox..I just went nuts for the whole thing. Met alot of really serious lifters, got completely immersed in it, so much so that I decided not to play football for the last 2 years of highschool, and to just concentrate on lifting. At age 16, I was clearly set in the "bodybuilding lifestyle." The diet, frequent meals, the training, the proper rest. And at this point my focus switched entirely internal. I was no longer competitive with anyone but myself. And some interesting things happened. My grades, especially, went through the roof. I applied the same principles to school that I applied to lifting. My weight was probably around 200 by senior year (5' 9")
College was tough. Premed in a very competitive program. About 135 students started, and after 4 years only about 20 would get into med school. But I was still able to lift. I supplemented the school's gym with my own weights that I brought up there with me. Every school break I went back home to my original gym, hooked up with my old lifting buddies. Again, lifting kept me focused, scheduled and regimented. I was either in the library or the gym. Didn't drink, didn't do any drugs, although it was all around me, but my friends respected me for it.
Pretty much the same all through med school. Lifting kept me focused, gave me energy. I ran the med school's gym, and actually created an awesome gym right in the basement of the dormitory. We called it "the best kept secret on the East Side." Stacked it out with TK Star, Polaris, everything. I had an unlimited student activity budget at my disposal. Funny thing is that everyone told me that once I started med school I'd never be able to find the time to lift again. It was exactly the opposite, though. I never lifted so much in my life! I met fellow getbigger bravo there, and we became training partners. That's around the time I first decided to try anabolics. I was age 24. I was now 245 lbs. I read everything about AAS and endocrinology I could get my hands on. Developed my first truly "scientific" approach to bodybuilding.
Next, Residency. One year of general surgery, four years of orthopaedic surgery. Joined Mid City Gym in NYC, and went over the top. Met IFBB pro's, met a guy who would become my powerlifting mentor, Paul "Zazu" Bruno, and WWF guys, etc. Still lifted with bravo, and was now beyond balls-to-the-wall. Only goal at that point was to be a freak. Not for chicks, not for anyone...just for me. The feeling of large tight muscles, the feeling of cold rough steel in your hands, the way the fu*king bar bends when your stacking it out at the squat or the flat bench. Pure, unadulterated euphoria. That's what it was all about. Did some more cycles, too, at this time. I was now age 28. I was now 265 lbs.
Thirties were rough, though. Fellowship (specialty) training. Marriage. Two kids. Wife with severe postpartum depression. Freaked out anytime I wasn't home. Long hours at work. Stressful work. I found a gym close to an office I was at one day a week, so I was still able to train, but it was minimal. Those were cold, dark days brothers. I saw my weight gradually dwindle down to about 200 lbs. Still managed to keep a clean diet, and still managed to hang on as best I could. During that time, I lifted purely to survive.
Then at around age 38, things settled down a bit. I found a gym that opens at 4:30am, so now I could finally lift before work. And so I began to slowly reclaim my life. Reclaim who I was. Reclaim who I am. Slowly put together a gym in my house, too. Got back to about four days a week training. Back on track. Carving out a little time just for myself.
Then cancer struck.
Gotta tell ya. I endured 10 surgeries, eight of them in one day. Still, I only missed about 1 week of training. Just enough to not have my incisions tear open. I think that's when it really struck me as to how important lifting weights had become for me. In fact, it IS me. As soon as I was healed up, I started a return to anabolics. I was age 40. I weighed about 210 lbs.
So here I am. 43 years old. Lifting 7 days a week. 230 lbs. I feel fu*king great. Diet is spot-on. I have r e t u r n e d. And I've said this here before. The one thread, the one common variable, that has allowed me to continually keep it all together at times that most others would crumple and fall, has been my training.
So why do we do it, you ask?
Because we have to.
