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03.17.98     Something struck me this week.  I am not sure what brought it about, but it struck me.  And, it struck me rather hard.

Liz and I went to see the movie “The Wedding Singer” and its setting in the 1980’s left me rather nostalgic.  A few days later, I found myself leafing through my High School yearbook and giggling at all the photographs and comments that my friends had written in there.  Some of the comments were funny.  I had forgotten that I had acquired the nickname “Sammy” for what seemed like a glorious eternity, but realistically was only about a month.  I quickly pictured myself back in the crowded halls of FDR High School.  Between class periods, my friends would yell out into the crowd, “Sammy!”  If I heard this, I would turn and respond back with a smile in my voice, “Yo!”  Everyone would turn to see what the commotion was about.  My friends and I would laugh.

Soon enough, the echo faded and I found myself leafing through the yearbook some more.

I reminiscenced the feelings of joy and sadness of High School graduation.  Joy, for the feeling of accomplishment and the sadness that the journey of High School was over, and I was to miss my friends.  I also remembered the dreams that we all had.  All of us had wanted to be somebody one day -- to be someone great.  Someone so super -- to contribute to society and be recognized for it.  It may sound a little silly, maybe even a little awkward, but nonetheless, the feelings were real enough.  The next time I was to feel that way was upon graduation from college in 1990.  Once again, I wanted to change the world somehow and contribute to its progress.

This passed week, I wondered to myself if I were on that path.  And, sadly to say, that I do not think that I am.  For the remainder of the week, I pondered to myself to see how I would start stepping in the right direction.  I felt that I had to at least give it a try; well, give something a try.  Because, at the moment, I think that I am just sitting around waiting for that something to happen, when sometimes, its necessary to start the waves, no matter how small.  Now, the hard part is to figure out what that something is.

Maybe I am babbling…I think I am…Anyway, I hope I am making some sense.
 

     From 1994 until 1996, I trained in this gym in Webster, New York called King’s Gym.  I was very enthusiastic about bodybuilding.  Although I know more presently about the aspect of manipulating body composition, my drive, willingness, and determination guided me through many treacherous workouts and bodybuilding diets back then.  I have less than average genetics for heavy musculature and my physique was still of the slim nature at the time.  People witnessed as this skinny Asian kid would hustle around the gym doing all that he could to get bigger.  I would work out with weights for hours on end with the utmost energy and not be satisfied until I felt complete; done all I could have done, and then and only then did I move onward.
     There was an older man that trained there named Don.  Don was a heavyset fellow who retired from Kodak a few years earlier.  He did not seem all that much into bodybuilding, but rather into staying in shape and shedding a few pounds.  I saw Don every time I would go to the gym and after a few times, we struck up some pretty interesting conversations.  His knowledge of bodybuilding was insightful, and dated back to when bodybuilding was new and just breaking into the public media.
     “There’s something different from the pros today than yesterday,” Don said.
     “Yeah, they’re bigger,” I giggled.
     “Well, we know the reason for that.  But, that’s not what I’m talking about.”
     “What do you mean?” I asked.
     “Look at the Olympia.”
     “Yeah?”
     “The guys that compete in it.  They’re monsters.  Big as they’ll ever get.”
     “Yeah.  They are pretty big...” I answered.
     “But,” Don injected, “It’s different from what the older guys had.  They may be bigger – weigh much more, hold more muscle on their frames, but they don’t have what the older guys had.  They are missing something.”
     “What’s that?” I asked.
     “That determination…” Don saw that I was curious, but was unsure as to how to answer.  He thought to himself for a second and began to explain himself, “Take Arnold for example. Okay?  The man had nothing.  He grew up on this farm near Germany somewhere – I think it was Austria.  He started lifting weights when he was a teen and quickly realized that he had some potential in bodybuilding.  He lost his first few contests that he entered.  And, he lost terribly -- I mean beaten bad.  Still, he had the determination to be somebody one day.  He continued onward, unsure as to what he was working towards, but he just knew that it was the right thing to do.  Later in his life, Joe Weider who lived in America contacted him.  Joe offered him a one-way ticket to America, housing, and a contract to be a professional bodybuilder.”
     “Happily ever after?” I questioned.
     “No.  He lost his first Olympia, but continued onward.  He grew older and noticed that bodybuilding could only carry someone so far.  It was at that point that Arnold knew that he wanted to contribute something more to this world – to really make a mark of his presence; to make a difference.  Once again, he did not know what he was working towards, but he knew that it just felt right. Was he scared?  Probably -- He was probably so fearful at times, he did not know what to do. He took whatever opportunities came his way.  He was able to stare fear right in the eyes, use it to fuel his fire and move onward.  He did not know if he was going to succeed or fail, but he knew in his greatest heart of hearts that he would never forgive himself if he did not try.  The rest is history still in the making.”

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