I have always loved bodybuilding, its Zen nature, the solo pursuit of excellence. It has been the one constant in my life through good times and bad times alike. My competitive career in bodybuilding moved between extremes. The 1991 A.N.B.C. Natural Westmoreland Bodybuilding Classic was my first really big show and my biggest loss as well. The show was structured such that the top four competitors in each class got a trophy; anyone who didn't earn a trophy that day was to be given a consolation medal. Out of the 59 competitors in the various weight classes and divisions, 58 competitors went home with a trophy that night. I went home with a consolation medal. Undaunted, I entered the first annual N.G.A. Can/Am six months later. The novice division was huge and split into short and tall classes, whereas the open division was split between short, medium and tall. Nobody was measured the day of the show; they went by what the competitors had self-reported on their entry paperwork. I am 5'8", at best. But, I have an older brother who is 6'4" and I had always thought I would end up taller too; I didn't. Anyways, on my entry paperwork for this particular show, I was wishful thinking and listed my height as 5' 8 1/2". I had no way of predicting where the cut-offs would be for each height class, which turned out to be up to 5'8" for the short class and everyone over 5'8" for the tall class. I was the shortest "tall" competitor in the novice tall class that day out of 17 contestants. Nonetheless, I held my own. Only the top three were placed but, had they placed a fourth, it would have been between myself and one other competitor who the judges kept comparing me to. In the open division, they also only placed the top three, or so I thought. Several months later, I read the contest results in Natural Physique magazine and saw that I had actually been awarded 4th place in the open division. Immediately after the show, I approached the judges, as I always did after competition, to ask for feedback on how I could do better. The first judge I approached told me, "I don't even remember who you are; there were so many competitors!" The second judge I approached was far kinder and more compassionate. He actually told me, "I don't know why you didn't place. I had you in 2nd on my score card," which he retrieved and gave to me. He followed up by mailing me a letter where he reiterated that he felt I should have placed 2nd that day. I cannot begin to tell you how much that meant to me. I still have his letter, framed on my wall. The N.G.A. Buffalo Classic was a major turning point for me. I won 1st place in the open middleweight division and, in doing so, defeated two competitors whom I had faced at the Can/Am: the competitor whom I had been compared to so rigorously in the novice division, tall class and the competitor who had won 2nd place in the open division, medium class, where one judge in particular felt I had been overlooked. In reality, the only one I was ever competing against was myself. There's no way to predict who will show up at any given show and there is always somebody better than you out there. My focus was always on improving my own level of condition from show-to-show, regardless of how high or low my final placement might be. You have to learn to believe in yourself, even when nobody else does. I was training at State Street Gym in Iowa one day when one of the local gym rats came over to give me a hard time while I was practicing my posing between sets. I was completely covered, wearing a rag top and baggies, so it wasn't like I was showing off my physique or anything like that. I was just going about my training. I had just recently moved to Iowa from New York to attend Chiropractic school. I had also just taken 2nd place at the second annual Can/Am a couple of months before. "You're not big enough to be posing," he told me. "I've got a bunch of trophies on my dresser at home that says I am!" I re
