I'm done.

(on a whiteboard)
“LIFTING RECORDS, UMASS DARTMOUTH, 1998 – 2010”

DEADLIFT: 500lbs.
Cute.

BENCH PRESS: 450lbs.
That’s only 35lbs more than me.

SQUAT: 600lbs
Impressive, but I should be able to top that by the end of my first year here.

It happened the other night. That was it. That was the moment. That was the moment I got fucking pissed. Not at anyone else, not at my situation, and not at unfortunate circumstances outside of my control, but pissed at ME. How in the fuck did I become that way? That was the moment I was fucking done. I am done feeling sorry for myself. I am done focusing on what I have lost instead of what I have left to earn. I am done focusing on what I can’t do, instead of what I can do. I’m done focusing on what could have been instead of what there is potential for. I’m done being jealous or resentful of what others have instead of getting it for myself. I’m done thinking instead of doing. I’m done being fat instead of being healthy. I’m done avoiding my problems instead of attacking them. I’m done being depressed instead of being fucking pissed. No, pissed off isn’t happy, but being pissed off gets you places. Depression does nothing except put a man down and keep him there. Furious anger is more powerful than nuclear rocket fuel and I’ve just acquired a hellish supply of it. Fuck you depressed Eric. I don’t need your shit.

As I drove home daft punk came on. I turned it up. I turned it up louder. I put the windows down. I turned it up so loud I couldn’t hear myself think, and then I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could. I truly channeled my inner Goku. Have you ever done that – screamed as loud as you possibly could? Have you screamed unhindered by anyone else, or any social faux pas, or even the sound of your own voice? I did it again. It felt…. Amazing. I don’t think I have ever yelled like that ever. I had a tear on my face for some reason, and I hope that was the last one I will shed for a long time to come.

Back to the whiteboard though.

“LIFTING RECORDS, UMASS DARTMOUTH, 1998 – 2009”

DEADLIFT: 500lbs.
Cute.


BENCH PRESS: 450lbs.
That’s only 35lbs more than me.

SQUAT: 600lbs
Pretty good, I should be able to top that in a few months.


That’s what I remember thinking as I smugly stared at the whiteboard in the Umass gym. I remember thinking I could shatter all those records by the time I finished grad school. I did some warm up sets, and then proceeded to do five sets of five deadlifts at 500lbs. That’s just over 6 tons, or about 5 of my Honda fits. That’s more weight than most people move in a year. I did it in 30 minutes or so. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember looking to my future with high hopes. I was just starting grad school, I could take the next few years to work on my education, my career, and my body. I remember that being the last time I was really in shape.

The universe will have its way, and it proceeded to have its way with me. A series of unfortunate accidents, unrelated to lifting, ruined all my hopes and aspirations. A snowboarder who shouldn’t have been on a black diamond ruined my day, and caused me to wipe out. I separated my right shoulder, and tore my right labrum. Fuck. I had dealt with a torn labrum before. I tore my left one, but I bounced back from that, and that shoulder doesn’t give me any problems anymore. I could get through it, and I did. That knocked me out of the gym for another nine months. Shortly after I recovered from that, I was involved in a minor bus accident at work. I was working with children with autism, who were very aggressive. The short abridged version of it all, is that this kid got up to attack someone while the bus was moving. I had to put him back in his seat, and put his seat belt on. While I was doing this some asshole cut the bus off, the driver slammed on the breaks, and I went flying and wretched my back over a seat. The next morning I could barely walk. It turns out I herniated 3 disks, and did some minor damage to my pelvis. To make matters worse, the worker’s comp insurance my employer has was Chartis (AKA, AIG), and they are fucking cunts. After only about two months of treatment they sent me to one of their own doctors who examined me for all of 10 minutes and said I was fine. Despite what four other doctors and myself said, AIG claimed that the word and recommendation of this one asshole, who was essentially paid to come to conclusions beneficial to AIG, was enough evidence to deny me proper medical care and benefits.

It took me seven hellish months get them into a court room. That’s a long time to have your life on hold. During that time I had no income, I couldn’t work, I had to drop out of grad school with only three classes left (all my remaining course work required supervised clinical hours, and applied research, which I couldn’t do), my back fucking hurt all the time, and I couldn’t do anything about it. So in court, well, this is what happened to them (pretend AIG is the car):

I got all my back pay (plus some damages), I got them to have to take care of my back for the rest of my life, even if it gets 1% worse, and I got them to pay for job re-training if I chose. Finally, some closure.

I used to be a paragon of health. I wasn’t just strong, I was strength incarnate. I essentially worked out at least 3 days a week (often 6 or 7) from 18 – 24. I used to do labor for work, then go to the gym and workout, then go do some other physical activity on the weekends (hiking, biking, climbing, scuba, etc). I used to almost never miss a workout. If I knew I was going to be busy, I would get up at 4:30 am to get to the gym before work. When I went up north to visit my girlfriend at the time, I would bring workout clothes so I could hit the gym up there before/after I saw her. I tracked every calorie. I timed my meals around my workouts for maximum efficiency. I tried every and any workout that sounded interesting. 5x5 program? Nailed it. German volume training? Sounds fun. Super-set routine? Let’s hit it. The only real setback I ever had before all this was when I tore my (first) labrum, and I bounced back from that relatively quickly. So now, to possibly have a lifelong back issue, is still a real shock to me. I will probably never power lift again, or at least, anywhere near how I used to. That’s unsettling to say the least. I used to lift for strength, but maybe now I can lift for overall health. Maybe now I can get that six pack I always wanted, which is pretty much impossible to do while eating 6,000 calories a day just so you don’t lose weight. Maybe I’ll actually get good at cardio. Maybe I’ll do more hot yoga or rock climbing. Those things are all attainable for me, even with herniated disks. One year from now I’m going to wish I started to improve my health and well being today. That’s why I started yesterday. When I started this blog (ironically) right before all this started to happen, I wanted to become a super saiyan. Maybe I won’t be a super-saiyan, but I can be a super-Eric.


MY BODY IS READY. I'm done. Or maybe I just need more Daft Punk.

WEIGHT: 227 lbs