You have a lot of time to think, sitting in the emergency room, watching your girlfriend sleep, praying that this time, the doctors will find out what is causing the fucking pain in her side. A lot of time to think back on shit and ask yourself many hard questions. I have no regrets in my life, I wish for no do-overs, what happened, happened. Looking back on my sports career in high school, I realized that I had an excuse for everything, but when it comes down to it, I was fucking scared. Scared that I was going to get hurt, and you know what…I did, fucked my ankle up. I was scared that I was going to hurt someone else, never happened, but I have to wonder, was I holding back when I hit someone? If I would have let it all fly, where could I have gone, what could have I accomplished? Who the fuck knows, and to be honest, I really don’t care.

I grew up poorish, the oldest child of a single mother. My folks split when I was young, don’t know why and really don’t care. Mom did her best and raised us up right, gave us everything we could ever need or want. I was a shy kid, my mom’s second husband was a heavy-handed motherfucker, beat me in to a shell.

I was a fat kid, tall and chubby. Did not get in to sports till 8th grade, I was awkward, fat and still locked in my shell. Not wanting to cause trouble, I was often the target of bullies till I joined the football team. I played the line, offence and defense, not much playing time, but hey, I was on the team, one of them.

I entered high school at 5’-10”, weighing in at over 230 pounds, a tall tub of goo. Hurt my knee and was not able to play ball, but I was able to get cleared later on to join the track team. My sophomore year I took athletics weightlifting, taught by the head football coach. I have always said that sports kept me in school, that and a promise to my grandma that I would go on to college. I only spent one more season on the team as a player, the other two as a manager and assistant coach of sorts, threw JV shot and disc all 4 years. Graduated at 6’-1” 250 pounds, packing a bit more muscle and a lot less fat.

If you are still reading, you have to be wondering what the fuck this has to do with power lifting? Why the fuck is this kid going on about his shitty high school experience? Keep reading and I’ll fucking tell ya…

Somewhere along the line, something snapped I quit worrying all time. My pops left me with two valuable words; they stuck with me to this day, simple, yet effective…You ready for ‘em? Here they are…..”Fuck it”..That’s right FUCK IT….A powerful little statement that helped to lighten my very soul. I no longer carry a burden of worrying about what everyone elas thinks or wants. I live my life for my family, friends and most importantly me. So again, what does this have to do with power lifting? Ok I’ll tell ya..

When you are under that bar, when you have that bone crushing, life-ending weight in your hands, you must be selfish. You must focus on the task at hand and never worry about getting hurt. You must never get caught up in the he said she said bullshit. You must not listen to anyone but your inner voice and leave your fucking ego at home.

Took me over 20 years to learn this lesson. I learned it the fucking hard way, like a man should. I like to say that you will never forget a lesson when you pay with pain. I paid, still do, every time the weather gets rainy. So what’s my fucking point? Why did I take the time to put this shit down on paper, to let you all in to my personal life, my childhood? What can I, a fucking rookie, have to teach you grizzled veterans? Just something simple and easy to remember. When you walk off that platform or rack that weight remember that there is only one person that you have to look in the eye and say I did my fucking best, I left every thing I had on the platform, the man in the mirror.