My Journey as a Strength and Conditioning Coach Part 1

Blog Post 1

My first training partners were Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone. Every Friday my mom would pick me up from school, we would go to the grocery store and then head to the local video rental store where I could check out movies and games for the weekend.

I would head straight to the action section and grab the classics: Commando, Terminator, Predator, Rocky. If it had Arnold in it, I was watching it. Even movies like Raw Deal or Red Heat that are often overlooked, I watched dozens of times.

When Terminator 2 was released on VHS in 1991, the video store called my house to let me know they had reserved a copy for me. When I picked it up, they had set aside a T2 movie poster as well. I think they got a kick out of this tiny little 6 year old dude that watched these same movies over and over.

Looking back, especially as a parent, I'm thankful, and mildly amazed my mom let me check these movies out. I don't think it messed me up too much, other than it made me want to be jacked like my heroes! My oldest son is 7 now, and while I put on Arnold movies whenever I can, I typically opt for Twins, Kindergarten Cop, and Jingle All the Way. We did watch Predator once, but only some choice scenes.

Fast forward about twelve years. My training during the Rocky montages hadn't carried over the way I had hoped it would. I was about to graduate high school and was pushing 140lbs. I had worked out a couple times with some friends before school, but we didn't know what we were doing. The first time we went, we did so many triceps, I couldn't lift my arms to wash my hair afterward. True story, I had to fling shampoo on the side of the shower and rub my head on the wall. I was wrecked. My senior year I signed up for weightlifting class. Then I heard at the end of the semester I’d have to max out, so I dropped the class and did rec PE instead, which was mostly bowling. Way less embarrassing.

Lucky for me I had the chance to play baseball in college at Mount Marty College, a small school in Yankton, South Dakota. Coach Bernatow gave me a chance. Looking back, I'm sure he just needed bodies as I didn't really bring much to the table talentwise, but I was willing to work. I hit the gym hard with my good friend Aric determined to not be the smallest guy on the team when I showed up in the fall.

My dad lifted weights (still does at 80 years old) so in the garage we had a power rack, bar, dumbbells, as well as one of those all-in-one cable machines that a lot of people had but seemed to be only good for collecting dust. Nearly every day Aric and I would lift and then eat. I ate until I thought I was going to throw up. As soon as that feeling went away, I would fill my stomach to the brink again. Every day, like clockwork.

We got bigger and stronger. I still wasn't strong by any means, but I was making progress. I could see it and I could feel it. One day I decided I was going to try to bench 135 pounds. 45 pounds on each side, also known as a plate, sometimes called a biscuit or a wagon wheel. Initially, my end of summer goal was to put a 35 on each side, (hoping people would think it was a plate), but I had done that and was ready for the big time. 

As I layed down on the bench, I felt like I was engulfed by the shadow that massive plate cast. I lifted the weight off the rack, lowered it to my chest, and was immediately stapled to the bench. I wasn't going anywhere, and neither was the weight. I started laughing because it seemed impossible as Aric saved my life by lifting it off me and returning it to the rack. I was 18 years old, was working out like a demon, and couldn't bench 135 pounds.