In my seven months of columns for StateCollege.com, I never really wrote about my bodybuilding; I thought it might seem too arrogant. But since it has been such a big part of my life, I’ll try to get a few points across without sounding like an egomaniac.
From 2001-2007, I was nearly unbeatable in the national Over-40 competition without the use of any performance-enhancing drugs (outside of caffeine). I won five national titles and two North American titles, some of which didn’t include drug tests.
I was at my best in 2004 and 2005. It was a crazy hurricane season, and I was making appearances at all hours of the night on TV. I was training like a dog on three or four hours of sleep per night. When it was over, I actually felt a little depressed. I had been feeding off the extreme challenge that was the non-stop fight, and I was proud.
It was what everyone should strive for; to know he/she could not have done more. After all, you have to train all-out to understand the value of the journey. Even when I lost, I felt as if I had won. (An aside: This is what bothers me about ‘serious’ athletes who drink alcohol. How can you say you gave it your all if you were out getting wasted this week?) Throughout the journey, I also got closer to the Lord. The more I won, the more thankful I was that I could train, and the more I learned that some things are more spiritual than physical. I had an attitude of gratitude.
I also learned that one must set ‘unrealistic goals’ (if you want to call them that). I never won even a local show until 1997; I was 0-for-36 if you consider only first place winning. It reminds me of a quote Joe Paterno is fond of (me too): ‘A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?’ (Robert Browning)
Something happened after 2007. In that year, I was the runner-up in the Over-50 Nationals, down from winning my class the previous year, but I was in darn good shape. I told my wife beforehand I would accept whatever result I got, since I had done all I could. It’s how I want her to be in her subjective sport of gymnastics. (For example: Penn Stater Brandi Personett lost the floor in nationals because the judges missed deductions for the winner. We’ve also seen bad judging impact wrestling, the World Cup and a potential perfect baseball game.)
One must have a sense of the higher calling through one’s entire career, or the actions of others can be destructive. It’s a lesson we know all too well now in my family; my wife had dreamt of being the women’s gymnastics team head coach, but we have been essentially kicked out of the Penn State family.
In any case, I was losing my edge in 2008 and 2009. I wasn’t even in the running. Perhaps my age was catching up to me. Perhaps I had been spoiled by winning and needed to step it up. No matter the reason, I know now that I face the end of the road.
The end of this road is more an intersection than it is a dead end, and I have headed down another path. I have been helping to train the non-PSU members of the Nittany Lion Wrestling Club.
Every day at 7 or 8 a.m., Nick Fanthorpe, Cyler Sanderson, Casey Cunningham (my training partner), Doug Umberhauer, Jake Varner (when he gets back) and Big Les Sigman are in there training. They’re looking at routines I helped Kerry McCoy with in his post-graduate career, when he had to muscle up to make the world team by beating Steven Neal (now an all-pro tackle with the Boston Patriots).
The ‘fresh air’ of these young guys seeking to make the USA wrestling team (Les is already 1st team, Jake is 2nd) has me feeling back to where I was years ago when I was winning all the time. Fact is, training people is my second love besides the weather, and the two aren’t that different. You have a set system, but there are many variables involved, and you have to watch to see what works best for what person. In the weather, certain situations will yield similar, but different results. The trick is knowing how to adjust, which takes countless hours of preparation. In training, the trick is getting the best routine and the best diet, adjusting to the person, and of course the willingness to prepare.
All of this has made me ‘stupid strong’ about wrestling, like Angelo Dundee was with boxing. What is stupid strong? Well, I have a second wind and I am strong enough to be stupid. This was most obvious the day I decided to go after big Les (a heavyweight). I figured I’d be legendary if I could hit a single on him. Only someone who is stupid strong would take on a moving fridge that knows how to wrestle. The end came quickly; it wasn’t pretty.
It’s just one of my ‘unrealistic goals’ I’m setting for myself again. I have a track meet of a hurricane season coming in mid-August, and I plan on competing again in late September in the North American Master’s Championship (and again in November in Nationals).
I feel the way I did years ago, and the kids (anyone younger than 40 is a kid to me) I’m helping feel great too. I have a lot of respect for these guys, and truth be told, they might be doing more for me than I am for them. It’s how synergy and bonding through adversity works; I would be letting them down if I were failing myself.
My biggest risk is that I might not get there. If I’m not as good or better than I was, I won’t compete. I will not have someone tell me I shouldn’t be up on the stage. If I am to leave this road I’ve traveled for so long, I couldn’t think of a better bunch of guys to help me do it.
That is, as long as I don’t do anything stupid like take on Big Les again.
