Sam's First Day

I don't think I have a good enough memory to remember with accurate details. LOL. Here is what I DO remember.

It was in the late 70's when I caught the bug of training. It was quite a long journey to weight training. Unlike many who don't want to get TOO big, I wanted to look just like those guys in the M and F magazines. To call me a "stick man" would be an understatement. It's interesting to see our discussions on morphs because I was the living definition of an ectomorph. I was and remain a true ectomorph.

I started training through a Charles Atlas course which gave me very limited success. The prime motivator to even start has to do with the Presidential Physical Fitness Test. I could do everything pretty well except for the pull-ups. So I got myself a chin-up bar and started chinning. At 120 lbs, I went from 0 to 10 chins within a very short time. Needless to say, I passed the test.

It was not until I wanted to play football that I seriously contemplated weight training. We had some really strong players on my team. Our QB could clean and jerk 275 at the BW of 160. I'd figure that if I wanted to survive football at all, I'd better get my butt into the weight room. Since I lived in a beach community (St. Pete. FL), it is really hard to impress the girls when my ribs show through so readily on the beach. So off to the gym I went.

I remember when our school bought this Universal machine to put in our very large locker room. That was considered something special. EVeryone and his dog had tried their hands on it at one time or another to show how much testostrone they had in their adolescent bodies but that cannot be considered real training at all. It was more like "post-shower" banter after PE.

For the football team, we had our own weight room, with benches and a squat rack to boot. Somewhere in between seeing the Universal machine and noting the lifting chart in our locker room, I got inside the serious training room. I don't remember my first day. It must have been really painful. I did remember the lack of coaching in the proper training techniques. Our coach just said, "OK, boys, do bench press, squats, power cleans and some curls. Now go to it." Huh? I was the walking definition of "moron sightings". If you want to write a book on how NOT to train, I was it. In fact, if there is a record of all my youthful workouts, we can have a large tome on the topic "moron sightings." I almost did every exercise wrong. It's a wonder that I never got hurt seriously.

Early on (probably in one of my very first sessions), I remember being stuck under the bar from doing squats in a power rack. In fact, my squat form was more like a good morning version of squats. It was just that aweful. I don't quite remember how I got out of being pinned. All I remember was how red my face was when the whole load came crashing to the ground. Plates were flying all over the place with the hysterical laughter from the cheerleading squad and a round of thunderous applause from the rest of the macho idiots (a few were rolling on the ground). I was a real ignoramus.

Finally, I remember when I FIRST got into a proper training program. Shortly after my plate crashing episode in the weight room, my biology teacher and school dean Mr. Grove who was a former Special Force personnel took me under his wings. I think that he was feeling sorry for me rather than seeing me as a true training partner. He was a generous soul considering the fact that I was a royal pain to his wife who taught English and was not a good student of biology at all. This guy could lift a house but remains one of the noblest and humblest human beings I have ever met. Day after day, he tutored, scolded and motivated me.

"Rest time is over, get off your lazy butt ... One more rep ... keep the elbows even ... straighten out your back ... head up... don't jerk ... been sleeping and eating your protein? ... staying out of trouble? etc." "Yes, sir."

As they say, the rest is history. I must go back sometimes to thank the man for getting me through those troubled years.

Three cheers for all the Mr. Groves (like the Cap'n and many others) of the world.

Sam Tsang

Click here to go back IronOnline Stories