believe that the definition of definition is reinvention. To not
be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself.
I was young I hadno sense of myself. All I was, was aproduct of
all the fearand humiliation I suffered. Fear of my parents. The
humiliation of teachers calling me "garbage can" and telling
me I'd be mowing lawns for a living. And the very real terror of
my fellow students. I was threatened and beaten up for the color
of my skin and my size. I was skinny and clumsy, and when others
would tease me I didn't run home crying, wondering why. I knew all
too well. I was there to be antagonized. In sports I was laughed
at. A spaz. I was pretty good at boxing but only because the rage
that filled my every waking moment made me wild and unpredictable.
I fought with some strange fury. The other boys thought I was crazy.
hated myself all the time. As stupid at it seems now, I wanted to
talk like them, dress like them, carry myself with the ease of knowing
that I wasn't going to get pounded in the hallway between classes.
passed and I learned to keep it all inside. I only talked to a few
boys in my grade. Other losers. Some of them are to this day the
greatest people I have ever known. Hang out with a guy who has had
his head flushed down a toilet a few times, treat him with respect,
and you'll find a faithful friend forever. But even with friends,
school sucked. Teachers gave me a hard time. I didn't think much
of them either.
came Mr. Pepperman, my adviser. He was a powerfully built Vietnam
veteran, and he was scary. No one ever talked out of turn in his
class. Once one kid did and Mr. P. lifted him off the ground and
pinned him to the blackboard.
P. could see that I was in bad shape, and one Friday in October
he asked me if I had ever worked out with weights. I told him no.
He told me that I was going to take some of the money that I had
saved and buy a hundred-pound set of weights at Sears. As I left
his office, I started to think of things I would say to him on Monday
when he asked about the weights that I was not going to buy. Still,
it made me feel special.
father never really got that close to caring. On Saturday I bought
the weights, but I couldn't even drag them to my mom's car. An attendant
laughed at me as he put them on a trolly.
came and I was called into Mr. P.'s office after school. He said
that he was going to show me how to work out. He was going to put
me on a program and start hitting me in the solar plexus in the
hallway when I wasn't looking. When I could take the punch we would
know that we were getting somewhere. At no time was I to look at
myself in the mirror or tell anyone at school what I was doing.
the gym he showed me ten basic exercises. I paid more attention
than I ever did in any of my classes. I didn't want to blow it.
I went home that night and started right in. Weeks passed, and every
once in a while Mr. P. would give me a shot and drop me in the hallway,
sending my books flying. The other students didn't know what to
think. More weeks passed, and I was steadily adding new weights
to the bar. I could sense the power inside my body growing. I could
before Christmas break I was walking to class, and from out of nowhere
Mr. Pepperman appeared and gave me a shot in the chest. I laughed
and kept going. He said I could look at myself now. I got home and
ran to the bathroom and pulled off my shirt. I saw a body, not just
the shell that housed my stomach and my heart. My biceps bulged.
My chest had definition. I felt strong. It was the first time I
can remember having a sense of myself. I had done something and
no one could ever take it away. You couldn't say shit to me.
me years to fully appreciate the value of the lessons I have learned
from the Iron. I used to think that it was my adversary, that I
was trying to lift that which does not want to be lifted. I was
wrong. When the Iron doesn't want to come off the mat, it's the
kindest thing it can do for you. If it flew up and went through
the ceiling, it wouldn't teach you anything. That's the way the
Iron talks to you. It tells you that the material you work with
is that which you will come to resemble. That which you work against
will always work against you.
wasn't until my late twenties that I learned that by working out
I had given myself a great gift. I learned that nothing good comes
without work and a certain amount of pain. When I finish a set that
leaves me shaking, I know more about myself. When something gets
bad, I know it can't be as bad as that workout.
used to fight the pain, but recently this became clear to me: pain
is not my enemy; it is my call to greatness. But when dealing with
the Iron, one must be careful to interpret the pain correctly. Most
injuries involving the Iron come from ego. I once spent a few weeks
lifting weight that my body wasn't ready for and spent a few months
not picking up anything heavier than a fork. Try to lift what you're
not prepared to and the Iron will teach you a little lesson in restraint
have never met a truly strong person who didn't have self-respect.
I think a lot of inwardly and outwardly directed contempt passes
itself off as self-respect: the idea of raising yourself by stepping
on someone's shoulders instead of doing it yourself. When I see
guys working out for cosmetic reasons, I see vanity exposing them
in the worst way, as cartoon characters, billboards for imbalance
and insecurity. Strength reveals itself through character. It is
the difference between bouncers who get off strong-arming people
and Mr. Pepperman.
mass does not always equal strength. Strength is kindness and sensitivity.
Strength is understanding that your power is both physical and emotional.
That it comes from the body and the mind. And the heart.
Mishima said that he could not entertain the idea of romance if
he was not strong. Romance is such a strong and overwhelming passion,
a weakened body cannot sustain it for long. I have some of my most
romantic thoughts when I am with the Iron. Once I was in love with
a woman. I thought about her the most when the pain from a workout
was racing through my body. Everything in me wanted her. So much
so that sex was only a fraction of my total desire. It was the single
most intense love I have ever felt, but she lived far away and I
didn't see her very often. Working out was a healthy way of dealing
with the loneliness. To this day, when I work out I usually listen
prefer to work out alone. It enables me to concentrate on the lessons
that the Iron has for me. Learning about what you're made of is
always time well spent, and I have found no better teacher. The
Iron had taught me how to live.
is capable of driving you out of your mind. The way it all comes
down these days, it's some kind of miracle if you're not insane.
People have become separated from their bodies. They are no longer
whole. I see them move from their offices to their cars and on to
their suburban homes. They stress out constantly, they lose sleep,
they eat badly. And they behave badly. Their egos run wild; they
become motivated by that which will eventually give them a massive
stroke. They need the Iron mind.
the years, I have combined meditation, action, and the Iron into
a single strength. I believe that when the body is strong, the mind
thinks strong thoughts. Time spent away from the Iron makes my mind
degenerate. I wallow in a thick depression. My body shuts down my
mind. The Iron is the best antidepressant I have ever found. There
is no better way to fight weakness
than with strength. Once the mind and body have been awakened to
their true potential, it's impossibleto turn back.
Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds
of talk, get told that you're a god or a total bastard. The Iron
will always kick you the real deal. The Iron is the great reference
point, the all-knowing perspective giver. Always there like a beacon
in the pitch black. I have found the Iron to be my greatest friend.
It never freaks out on me, never runs. Friends may come and go.
But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds.