My First Training Partner

I still, very vividly, remember the first place I ever trained at.  It was a basement gym with minimal equipment.  There was an old treadmill and jogging trampoline for cardio.  There was only one set of dumbbells and they were covered with blue plastic and only five pounds.  The center piece was an old-school selectorized weight machine that looked like an old torture rack.  This wasn’t one of those modern machines with a leg press, chest press, a lat pull down bar and a half dozen bar/handle options.  Oh, no.  The one weight stack was bolted into whichever wall you had chosen.  It came with a flat bench that could be put in front of or moved away from the weight stack.  The bar is difficult to describe.  It was essentially a metal square with a prong on one side that was inserted into the guide rails that could be moved up and down.  On the other side were handles that could be used for bench presses, squats, overhead presses, shrugs and anything that fancied your imagination.  There was also a horizontal row handle at the bottom.  In my mind it was the first failed attempt at a Smith machine.  Needless to say, the gym was pretty bare bones.

My first training partner had taken a weight training class in college where he had worked his bench press up to (at the time I thought this was astronomical) 275 pounds.  I don’t remember much of what we did but I know he probably put up with a lot of whining and a short attention span.  I didn’t make a lot of progress.  In fact, I think he once pitted my sister and I against each other in a test of strength and she came out the victor.

I was about six or so when I finally understood what that equipment in my basement was used for.  My first training partner was obviously my dad and I like to think he just enjoyed my company and so was willing to put up with my whining and being weaker than my older sister.  Neither of us knew it then but those sessions in the basement ignited the spark that lit the flame that has led me to my passion for strength training.  Even though I didn’t take training seriously until high school I look at those moments when it first piqued my interest.

Fast forward to middle school.  Being a chubby kid growing up I’d always been self-conscious of my weight and the way I looked.  I decided that for my birthday I wanted a weight bench and some weights and that I was going to get into shape.  My parents delivered and I got a small weight bench with a bar and weight set. (I once took an informal poll at work to see who had owned a similar set-up when they were kids and every single trainer had the same thing I did.  Definitely more than mere coincidence.)  The weight set had a hundred pounds of weight and a one inch standard bar.  The weights were the old cement weights that were covered with hard plastic.  I had absolutely no clue what I was doing.  I’m pretty sure I benched every single time and more than likely gave squatting a few rides.  I’m fairly certain I was completely ignorant of the Olympic lifts, which was probably a good thing since I more than likely would have hurt myself.  

Down in my basement by myself with absolutely no direction or instruction I remember being beside myself when I had maxed out the amount of weight I could get on the bar with 135 pounds on the bench press.  Sprinkled between the time I started and up to that point there were also a few close calls where I failed on a rep and either had to roll the bar to my waist and stand up or tip it to one side and let the weight fall off one side and then the other.  This is where my survival instincts were honed.  It was either, finish the rep, not get the rep and look like an idiot getting out from under the bar, or perish with 100 pounds on my neck.  It was one of the first two every time.  I don't go quietly just like that.

Once I got into high school my dad pretty much stopped exercising besides the occasional cross country skiing outing or roller blading around our subdivision.  I had been in the high school’s weight program and trained with a buddy’s uncle who was a former bodybuilder and had made some pretty good progress.  I’ve never been the strongest person on any team, but I’ve always described myself as above average in strength.  I took it seriously but never really gave any thought to continuing to train once I went to college.  That changed when I decided to play football at Carroll College.

            

I had my summer workouts that I did and enjoyed seeing the progression from one phase to the next.  I was also going through the student guidebook trying to decide what I was going to do with the rest of my life.  When I showed up on campus I was ready to play and ready to begin my journey to being the most awesome high school English teacher you ever saw.  I ended up playing football all four years and had a pretty good career.  My majoring in English lasted a semester.

            

When I was mulling over the decision to switch my major to Exercise Science it was my dad who took the stance that I may be making a poor decision.  He took the side that I should really figure out how the job market was going to look once I graduated.  I’m eternally thankful that I have a dad that is willing to do this.  Even though strength and conditioning had become a passion of mine he was ever the pragmatic.  Could I make a career out of it?  Would I always be struggling with money issues?  Those were the tough questions that I had to answer before he’d be satisfied with my decision. 

           

Back then I had plans of continuing my education beyond my undergrad and working at a university or for a professional sports team.  Instead I found a great job working at a sports performance center working with kids who are just as hungry as I once was but now have a much better resource for their strength training other than a magazine or their own imagination.

           

I sometimes ponder what my life would look like if I hadn’t been introduced to the physical culture by my dad all those years ago.  Where do I work?  Who are my friends?  Where do I live?  I’ll never know but I wouldn’t really want to.  I owe a lot more to my dad than just starting me on a path to a career that I enjoy.  He set me on a path towards a life worth living.  One filled with hard work, determination, setting and accomplishing goals, and being a useful human being.  Everyday I’m thankful for the attitude towards life and the work ethic he’s instilled in me.  I just wish he’d exercise more and eat better.