Every sport I played in my life required a form of aggression or violence. To be my best, I had to dig down and generate a state of rage against my opposition. In my mind, it was kill or be killed, and playing without intensity wasn't in the cards for me.
Baseball, basketball, soccer, football, ice hockey, and rugby. Strength sports like powerlifting and strongman.
Six sports I performed very well at, and all required an element of hate from me.
I wanted to smash the ball in to the pitcher's mouth or launch it into the outfield. Running bases required focus and speed, not relaxation and chilling out.
In basketball, I was the tallest kid on the court and usually the best defender. I was tasked with stopping in the paint, and if you know the game of hoops, that isn't something for the weak.
I was a keeper in soccer, and every shot on goal was a battle between myself and the shooter. I won more than I lost, and I was picked for an all-state traveling team.
Football, well, you know how that goes.
Ice hockey is the same.
Strength sports require intensity and rage to lift heavy-ass shit and beat your competition.
Rugby is where I excelled. Before every game, I had a ritual. Part of that ritual would be staring at the other team and finding reasons to hate them. It wasn't enough to just play; I had to despise my opponent - even for a brief time. In a sport like rugby, where the contact is continuous for an 80-minute game, and you run, hit, sprint, ruck, maul, and scrum with minimal to no rest the entire time, you cannot afford to sit back and relax. A lazy approach will help you lose a game, or even worse, earn a major injury.
The other day, a conversation on Facebook enlightened me on why I embraced bodybuilding so fully after years of wishing I could do it and never trying.
Training, for me, isn't self-care. It's work. I approach it like a day at the office because it is so ingrained into my lifestyle it has become my lifestyle. I can train without goals, with them, or just for fun. I love it, but when I train, I have rules I like to live by.
Leave me alone
Don't talk to me
I rarely have a training partner unless we are 100% on the same page
See #1
This is a constant, and I accept it. I go as far as to train at another gym to not train at my workplace. I need my space, and I value this time.
What I don't want anymore is to live my life in a competitive rage, and it brings out a part of me I do not want to experience anymore as I am incapable of finding the healthy aspect of competition when I have that red-hot fire in me.
I tried it in 2020 with planning one last powerlifting meet. During a deadlift session, I sat there with the bar loaded to 90%, and I quit. I emailed my coach and told him:
Trevor,
Let me preface this email by saying you are a superb coach and have been incredibly helpful. You are money well spent, and I would recommend you to anyone who asks me. You are smart, diligent, and attentive.
I have spent over half my life competing, killing myself, proving myself to others and me, and trying to chase the proverbial glory. The last few weeks have been stressful for me because dealing with yet another knee issue from heavy squatting is mentally exhausting, not to mention cramping my training, which affects my mentality about lifting.
I want to have fun, and before the shutdown, training was fun for me. I hit it hard three days a week using a full-body template I made and an intuitive approach. If I felt like pushing the weights a little, I would. The training naturally drifted towards a well-rounded approach of athleticism, conditioning, hypertrophy, and some dedicated strength work to keep my soul honest.
I feel my body aching in the morning again, I will be 46 years old in October, and the years of rugby, recklessness, and collisions have taken their toll on me. I do not have the heart to continue to feel like my body will break, and I can't do it anymore.
My goals have changed in life, and what's important to me has shifted. I love to run a business and see my clients do well; I want to be under 220, lean, mobile, and able to take up new hobbies if I wish to. I don't want to expend the mental energy prepping for a heavy deadlift day, nor do I want to be handcuffed by obligations to a specific program. I love the fluidity of how I like to train, as it keeps me from mentally zeroing in on a single entity and trapping me.
Effective today, I am pulling out of the meet and sticking to what makes me happy. I love your coaching, as I said, but I will cancel it because you specialize in powerlifting, and I will not be one ever again.
I appreciate you; I appreciate what you did for me, and I appreciate how good of a coach you are.
Jay.
I spent the next year plus training for me until I re-discovered why I stepped foot into a gym in the first place.
Bodybuilding.
I started to get shaped up well. My body felt good, and I decided upon doing a show, but I had no idea when.
I talked with Ryan Sylva about this, and he said, "why don't you do the one I am doing in November?"
I didn't think twice. I paid my NPC dues, signed up for the show, booked my hotel and tanning, and went to work. I hired Jason May of Flex Fitness in KC to do my diet, and I followed Yoke Squad's training. I am notoriously bad at writing programs for myself as I have so much information in my head I can't focus on what I want to do. Clients are easy; I cater to their goals. Me? I am a fucking psycho.
With about eight weeks to go, I decided to go all-in with #teamflex and entirely gave the reins to Jason. He now was overseeing my diet and training, and I would stick with him through hell or high water.
It paid off because I didn't doubt him, I didn't deviate from his diet plan, and you saw the results on show day.
He coached me masterfully as a credible coach should, and I am grateful for it.
Here's the interesting part.
I was nervous, but this was the first time I competed where I felt at peace. With every other sport I played, I wanted to kill. I felt at ease in this sport and like I had just painted a masterpiece to show off.
My mindset shifted from brutality to artistic because that is what bodybuilding is - showcasing the art of your body to be subjectively judged.
The results are out of my control, and I can only deliver what I brought to the stage and hope the judges preferred my artwork over the other amazing men standing next to me. I made friends backstage, and I cheered for others.
I earned second in Master's Over 40 and third in Open Class F (6' and up) against kids 20 years younger than me. I was happy with both, but Master's is where I want to make my mark.
I felt happiness, and the nerves went away at the evening show.
I felt contentment, as I felt like this was where I belonged.
I felt the drive to win without the urge to crush people with physical means.
I felt focused without the rage.
Most of all, I feel like this is my sport for the rest of my life, as it unleashed my need to compete without the triggers that enable a toxic side of me I never want to see again.
You may feel differently about this sport, which is ok, but as for me and my mindset...
I have the brush in my hand, my coach handed me the canvas and paint, and the truth is this: I am creating art, not chaos. I am making peace, not war. I am here to win, but I am not here to worry about what others are doing.
This sport has given me a gift in such a short time, and I plan to give back to it tenfold for as long as I can touch a weight, endure show prep, and step on stage to be art in body form.
It was a revelation to understand why November 13, 2021, was a life-changing event for me.
I am home.