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THE BOUNCER
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I'd been hearing about him for months before I finally saw him. "Tom" was by far the top physique at the gym that I had recently joined after moving to a new town in suburban Boston. Even at the Olympia Weekend in Vegas, anybody I ran into from Massachusetts asked me if I knew him when I told them where I trained. Needless to say, I couldn't wait to see this muscular marvel in the flesh.
Not long after Vegas, my curiosity was satisfied. There was no mistaking this was the man I'd been hearing about when I walked in one Sunday afternoon and saw this Hercules training his mammoth arms. Tom was about my height, 5-9, maybe a bit shorter. To say he put me to shame would be an understatement. Tom probably weighed around 250, with that thick, round, overall development that spells pro bodybuilding potential. His arms had to be around 21 inches and his neck was about the same. His back and shoulders were so wide and jam-packed with dense muscle that it almost looked like he couldn't move.
I'll be honest. The immediate emotion that consumed me was jealousy. Tom was born to look like this. It was obvious he was also on a ton of steroids, but no average guy could ever hope to have his type of size and shape without some rare genetic gifts. The next emotion I felt was anxiety. He had done the NPC New England on several occasions, a contest I was already planning on entering. I knew that there was no way in hell I could hope to beat this freak, even if I doubled whatever drug stack he was on and trained like an animal for the next six months.
He was the kind of guy that showed up at a contest and had all the other guys muttering "oh no" to themselves even before he takes off his sweats, much like Wheeler and Coleman did many years ago as amateurs. It's the sort of monstrous development that no amount of clothing can conceal. I wanted to introduce myself, as I was sure we had mutual friends and acquaintances and clearly shared the same interests, but my foolish pride wouldn't allow it. Since he trained at night with all the young stallions and I was in there mornings with the housewives and retired men, I didn't see Tom again. As it turned out, I would literally never see Tom again.
I walked into the locker room soon after that and one of the personal trainers asked me, "You hear about Tom?"
"No," though I sensed what was coming, "what happened to him?"
"He died yesterday. An ulcer in his stomach burst, and with his heart problem, I guess that was too much."
Tom had been all of 25 years old. Just a kid, really.
I'd picked up random bits and pieces about Tom from several people in the months preceding this. His experience with steroids began at 18, and he competed for the first time a couple of years later. Not making the top five in that first contest set off something in him, a need to prove himself perhaps, that led to a decision to up his steroid dosages dramatically.
In the year after his humiliating defeat, he gained seventy pounds while staying at roughly the same bodyfat percentage. Seventy pounds of muscle in one year — let that sink in for a moment. His all-time high bodyweight was a touch over 280 pounds without carrying much fat at all. Tom competed several more times, and was vindicated by always placing in the top three, despite having trouble getting into proper condition at times and flattening out at the last minute on other occasions.
Along with the glaring steroid use evident in his overblown muscles was a more insidious drug habit. Like many bodybuilders today, Tom was a heavy user of the synthetic opiate Nubain as well as various other recreational drugs. Coming from a rough, working-class neighborhood in a city with a bad reputation, this wasn't really that shocking. Shortly after I first saw him, Tom had some sort of an overdose and went into a coma in the apartment where he lived alone. He wasn't found until three days later, when he was rushed to the hospital. That's when they found the heart problems. He survived that one, but you'd think it would have taught him a lesson. Not so.
What killed Tom? Was it the steroids, the Nubain, or maybe party drugs like Ecstasy which most of the bodybuilders in the night club scene were into, that caused his demise? No one's certain. Maybe it was a combination of everything, I have no idea. But I do know that 25 years old is far too young to leave this earth. I think back to myself at 25. It was the year I became a father for the first time. I was just starting to grow into my career and my role as a husband. In many ways I was still transitioning from young adult to grown man. The world, and my place in it, was just beginning to make sense.
I know I'd barely begun to live my life at 25, and I suspect that Tom was at a similar point. Sadly, he never married, never knew the joys of being a parent. And as trivial and insignificant as it sounds now, he never fully realized his awesome potential as a bodybuilder. Tough break, you say, but what, pray tell, does this have to do with anything?
Peruse the T-mag forum in the "Steroids and other drugs" section, as well as any number of similar message boards on the net, and you'll notice a disturbing trend. A large percentage of those using or considering using anabolics is in the 18-24 age group or younger. They all want to be huge, and they want it yesterday. A recurring thread that pops up is "how young is too young?"
Bill Roberts, myself, and several others try to encourage kids to wait until they're at least in their mid-twenties to give their own hormones a chance to work their magic as well as learn how their bodies respond to various types of training and nutrition strategies. Wouldn't you know it, almost every single youngster out there agrees—only they think that they're the one "exception to the rule" who should be on drugs right away.
Can it be that they're all truly so informed, mature, and expert in the ways of pumping iron to justify such a premature leap into all-out steroid programs? Logic would dictate otherwise. For those of you now in your thirties, forties, and beyond, it's safe to say that most of us look back at some of the behaviors we engaged in as teenagers and young men and cringe. Our sense of better judgment wasn't yet fully formed, and neither was our sense of mortality. How else could you explain the fact that the majority of drunk driving accidents involve men and women in their teens and early twenties? Drinking is a much bigger problem than steroids in young people, without a doubt, but in our little world of gyms and heavy weights, a lot of young people play with fire by juicing early and in a big way.
Along with youth comes impatience, the desire to have it all and have it now. When it comes to kids who want big muscles, which many believe will translate into increased respect from their male peers and sexual attractiveness to girls, the temptation to use steroids is enormous. One of the young Œroiders on the T-mag forum actually gloated that since he's been on steroids, "all the guys at school are afraid of me and all the girls want me." And once a kid gets a gratifying taste of this instant validation, do you think he'll want to stop? Hardly.
At a time in life when all of us are unsure of ourselves and are searching for an identity, we're all vulnerable to anything that comes along that can give us those feelings of acceptance. Whether it comes from joining a gang, falling in with the stoner crowd, or shooting steroids to gain seventy pounds of muscle and create a suit of armor cast in flesh and blood, we just want the painful self-doubts and insecurity to stop.
I'm not someone who preaches that steroids and recreational drugs are evil. In the wrong hands and taken to extremes, either can certainly wreak havoc with the quality of a man or woman's personal life and health. All moral and legal issues aside, both are used in moderation by millions with few deleterious effects. The danger comes when those who lack the judgment or the regard for their own well-being to exercise moderation enter the picture.
Tom's death is an eerie fulfillment of two predictions made by the 2001 version of T-mag's Dead Pool. One said that given the sheer number of steroid users, odds were slim that any of the high-profile bodybuilders described would fall victim to the Grim Reaper. It was more likely to be someone you never heard of at a gym somewhere out in Podunk that paid the ultimate price, and his death would pass quietly with neither public outrage or media outcry. The second prophecy was that it would be the lethal combination of steroids and recreational drugs that would start cutting lives short. Tragically, Tom proved the writer correct in both cases.
All of us are given just this one body and one life to lead on planet Earth. These lives should be long and filled with family, friends, rewarding careers, and the chance to make our mark on the world. Weight training and bodybuilding are meant to be healthy endeavors that allow us to live longer lives full of more vitality, strength, and passion than the average Joe does. Some of us choose to use steroids to enhance our results and satisfy our inner vision of what it is we wish to be in terms of appearance and performance. And as more anti-aging research comes to light, it seems that in the coming decades steroids will be a tool many of us will enjoy to maintain our youthful bodies and health as we transition into old age. To abuse steroids to the point where you're risking death is a perversion.
When the trainer and I were discussing Tom's death that morning in the locker room, another man who had been eavesdropping came closer as we recalled the immense size Tom had displayed. "Was it worth it?" the stranger asked, and we all went silent. I know that if Tom could have had the opportunity to answer, he would have said no. I hope that his death makes some of you who may be heavy steroid users or contemplating heavy use, stop and think. Are huge muscles worth giving up your very life? Is the high of Nubain, cocaine, or Ecstasy so pleasurable that you'd risk dying to use them on a regular basis?
The lure of being huge beyond mortal comprehension is a siren song to many young (and sometimes not so young) men enthralled by the incredible physiques displayed in the magazines by Coleman, Cormier, Cutler, and the rest of the Freak Elite. Some will chase that dream with tunnel vision, and employ whatever means may be necessary with little or no regard to the risks inherent in ingesting such a vast and varied pharmaceutical cocktail. And no matter how large they become, they'll still look in the mirror and be far from satisfied at the image they see.
Part of being a T-man is having the gratitude and respect for the life you're given to not gamble with it for such a fleeting and ultimately inconsequential reward. Tom is gone forever. He doesn't have the chance anymore to consider the possible impact of what he's doing to his body. You, reading this, still have time. Whether it's you, a friend or loved one, or just someone you say hi to at the gym, you probably know someone who's putting the pursuit of fast muscle gains ahead of common sense.
Is getting there in a hurry worth dying for? I care about each and every one of you who share my love for improving the physical self through weight training. Please be careful. I never had the chance to tell Tom any of this, and frankly I don't know if he would have listened. But if this little editorial can do anything to prevent another young man from dying before he has really had a chance to live, then it hasn't been just another lurid cautionary tale. Let's all stay alive and healthy and observe moderation in all things.
THIS ARTICLE WAS TAKEN FROM www.testosterone.net
Not long after Vegas, my curiosity was satisfied. There was no mistaking this was the man I'd been hearing about when I walked in one Sunday afternoon and saw this Hercules training his mammoth arms. Tom was about my height, 5-9, maybe a bit shorter. To say he put me to shame would be an understatement. Tom probably weighed around 250, with that thick, round, overall development that spells pro bodybuilding potential. His arms had to be around 21 inches and his neck was about the same. His back and shoulders were so wide and jam-packed with dense muscle that it almost looked like he couldn't move.
I'll be honest. The immediate emotion that consumed me was jealousy. Tom was born to look like this. It was obvious he was also on a ton of steroids, but no average guy could ever hope to have his type of size and shape without some rare genetic gifts. The next emotion I felt was anxiety. He had done the NPC New England on several occasions, a contest I was already planning on entering. I knew that there was no way in hell I could hope to beat this freak, even if I doubled whatever drug stack he was on and trained like an animal for the next six months.
He was the kind of guy that showed up at a contest and had all the other guys muttering "oh no" to themselves even before he takes off his sweats, much like Wheeler and Coleman did many years ago as amateurs. It's the sort of monstrous development that no amount of clothing can conceal. I wanted to introduce myself, as I was sure we had mutual friends and acquaintances and clearly shared the same interests, but my foolish pride wouldn't allow it. Since he trained at night with all the young stallions and I was in there mornings with the housewives and retired men, I didn't see Tom again. As it turned out, I would literally never see Tom again.
I walked into the locker room soon after that and one of the personal trainers asked me, "You hear about Tom?"
"No," though I sensed what was coming, "what happened to him?"
"He died yesterday. An ulcer in his stomach burst, and with his heart problem, I guess that was too much."
Tom had been all of 25 years old. Just a kid, really.
I'd picked up random bits and pieces about Tom from several people in the months preceding this. His experience with steroids began at 18, and he competed for the first time a couple of years later. Not making the top five in that first contest set off something in him, a need to prove himself perhaps, that led to a decision to up his steroid dosages dramatically.
In the year after his humiliating defeat, he gained seventy pounds while staying at roughly the same bodyfat percentage. Seventy pounds of muscle in one year — let that sink in for a moment. His all-time high bodyweight was a touch over 280 pounds without carrying much fat at all. Tom competed several more times, and was vindicated by always placing in the top three, despite having trouble getting into proper condition at times and flattening out at the last minute on other occasions.
Along with the glaring steroid use evident in his overblown muscles was a more insidious drug habit. Like many bodybuilders today, Tom was a heavy user of the synthetic opiate Nubain as well as various other recreational drugs. Coming from a rough, working-class neighborhood in a city with a bad reputation, this wasn't really that shocking. Shortly after I first saw him, Tom had some sort of an overdose and went into a coma in the apartment where he lived alone. He wasn't found until three days later, when he was rushed to the hospital. That's when they found the heart problems. He survived that one, but you'd think it would have taught him a lesson. Not so.
What killed Tom? Was it the steroids, the Nubain, or maybe party drugs like Ecstasy which most of the bodybuilders in the night club scene were into, that caused his demise? No one's certain. Maybe it was a combination of everything, I have no idea. But I do know that 25 years old is far too young to leave this earth. I think back to myself at 25. It was the year I became a father for the first time. I was just starting to grow into my career and my role as a husband. In many ways I was still transitioning from young adult to grown man. The world, and my place in it, was just beginning to make sense.
I know I'd barely begun to live my life at 25, and I suspect that Tom was at a similar point. Sadly, he never married, never knew the joys of being a parent. And as trivial and insignificant as it sounds now, he never fully realized his awesome potential as a bodybuilder. Tough break, you say, but what, pray tell, does this have to do with anything?
Peruse the T-mag forum in the "Steroids and other drugs" section, as well as any number of similar message boards on the net, and you'll notice a disturbing trend. A large percentage of those using or considering using anabolics is in the 18-24 age group or younger. They all want to be huge, and they want it yesterday. A recurring thread that pops up is "how young is too young?"
Bill Roberts, myself, and several others try to encourage kids to wait until they're at least in their mid-twenties to give their own hormones a chance to work their magic as well as learn how their bodies respond to various types of training and nutrition strategies. Wouldn't you know it, almost every single youngster out there agrees—only they think that they're the one "exception to the rule" who should be on drugs right away.
Can it be that they're all truly so informed, mature, and expert in the ways of pumping iron to justify such a premature leap into all-out steroid programs? Logic would dictate otherwise. For those of you now in your thirties, forties, and beyond, it's safe to say that most of us look back at some of the behaviors we engaged in as teenagers and young men and cringe. Our sense of better judgment wasn't yet fully formed, and neither was our sense of mortality. How else could you explain the fact that the majority of drunk driving accidents involve men and women in their teens and early twenties? Drinking is a much bigger problem than steroids in young people, without a doubt, but in our little world of gyms and heavy weights, a lot of young people play with fire by juicing early and in a big way.
Along with youth comes impatience, the desire to have it all and have it now. When it comes to kids who want big muscles, which many believe will translate into increased respect from their male peers and sexual attractiveness to girls, the temptation to use steroids is enormous. One of the young Œroiders on the T-mag forum actually gloated that since he's been on steroids, "all the guys at school are afraid of me and all the girls want me." And once a kid gets a gratifying taste of this instant validation, do you think he'll want to stop? Hardly.
At a time in life when all of us are unsure of ourselves and are searching for an identity, we're all vulnerable to anything that comes along that can give us those feelings of acceptance. Whether it comes from joining a gang, falling in with the stoner crowd, or shooting steroids to gain seventy pounds of muscle and create a suit of armor cast in flesh and blood, we just want the painful self-doubts and insecurity to stop.
I'm not someone who preaches that steroids and recreational drugs are evil. In the wrong hands and taken to extremes, either can certainly wreak havoc with the quality of a man or woman's personal life and health. All moral and legal issues aside, both are used in moderation by millions with few deleterious effects. The danger comes when those who lack the judgment or the regard for their own well-being to exercise moderation enter the picture.
Tom's death is an eerie fulfillment of two predictions made by the 2001 version of T-mag's Dead Pool. One said that given the sheer number of steroid users, odds were slim that any of the high-profile bodybuilders described would fall victim to the Grim Reaper. It was more likely to be someone you never heard of at a gym somewhere out in Podunk that paid the ultimate price, and his death would pass quietly with neither public outrage or media outcry. The second prophecy was that it would be the lethal combination of steroids and recreational drugs that would start cutting lives short. Tragically, Tom proved the writer correct in both cases.
All of us are given just this one body and one life to lead on planet Earth. These lives should be long and filled with family, friends, rewarding careers, and the chance to make our mark on the world. Weight training and bodybuilding are meant to be healthy endeavors that allow us to live longer lives full of more vitality, strength, and passion than the average Joe does. Some of us choose to use steroids to enhance our results and satisfy our inner vision of what it is we wish to be in terms of appearance and performance. And as more anti-aging research comes to light, it seems that in the coming decades steroids will be a tool many of us will enjoy to maintain our youthful bodies and health as we transition into old age. To abuse steroids to the point where you're risking death is a perversion.
When the trainer and I were discussing Tom's death that morning in the locker room, another man who had been eavesdropping came closer as we recalled the immense size Tom had displayed. "Was it worth it?" the stranger asked, and we all went silent. I know that if Tom could have had the opportunity to answer, he would have said no. I hope that his death makes some of you who may be heavy steroid users or contemplating heavy use, stop and think. Are huge muscles worth giving up your very life? Is the high of Nubain, cocaine, or Ecstasy so pleasurable that you'd risk dying to use them on a regular basis?
The lure of being huge beyond mortal comprehension is a siren song to many young (and sometimes not so young) men enthralled by the incredible physiques displayed in the magazines by Coleman, Cormier, Cutler, and the rest of the Freak Elite. Some will chase that dream with tunnel vision, and employ whatever means may be necessary with little or no regard to the risks inherent in ingesting such a vast and varied pharmaceutical cocktail. And no matter how large they become, they'll still look in the mirror and be far from satisfied at the image they see.
Part of being a T-man is having the gratitude and respect for the life you're given to not gamble with it for such a fleeting and ultimately inconsequential reward. Tom is gone forever. He doesn't have the chance anymore to consider the possible impact of what he's doing to his body. You, reading this, still have time. Whether it's you, a friend or loved one, or just someone you say hi to at the gym, you probably know someone who's putting the pursuit of fast muscle gains ahead of common sense.
Is getting there in a hurry worth dying for? I care about each and every one of you who share my love for improving the physical self through weight training. Please be careful. I never had the chance to tell Tom any of this, and frankly I don't know if he would have listened. But if this little editorial can do anything to prevent another young man from dying before he has really had a chance to live, then it hasn't been just another lurid cautionary tale. Let's all stay alive and healthy and observe moderation in all things.
THIS ARTICLE WAS TAKEN FROM www.testosterone.net
Why cant people just shut the fuck up and keep it to themselves
