At twelve years old I began devouring every bit of information I could on the subject of Bodybuilding. Be it the workout routines of Frank Zane, Dave Draper, Arnold Schwarzenegger, or even Rachel McGlish, I studied everyone. I studied what they ate, when they ate it, what time of day they trained, how much they slept, etc. Anything to do with morphing one’s body into that of a champion physique, I wanted to know. No, it was more than that, I NEEDED to know. I was the typical skinny kid that got beaten up for his lunch money – every school had one. In my case, I unfortunately DID get beaten up every day. I was the living and breathing rendition of that old Charles Atlas ad with the guy getting sand kicked in his face. Yeah, it was that bad. There’s not much a kid can do in that situation. Tell your dad and he goes to your school and raises hell with whoever will listen, and then leaves.

For that day you’re as good as gold…but there’s always the NEXT day. No matter my determination, it was always two against one. Mark Brown and Greg Reed. I spent all of my younger years fearing and hating those two boys but unknowingly to all three of us, those two were helping to forge my destiny with every fist and every foot. One of my only escapes was when I had a comic book in my hand. As I peeled every page I would sit imagining myself as my favorite characters. Conan, Batman, and the Punisher were my top three. They weren’t the typical “good guys”, they had flaws, they were human, they made mistakes, but they were massive! I knew that if I just looked like those guys, my days of taking a beating would be over forever and then I could finally turn the tables and give them the payback poundings they so richly deserved.

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