MY FITNESS JOURNEY

My fitness journey began back in the early 1970’s when, as a 9th grader, my brother & I got tired of being punching bags for the neighborhood bullies & Neanderthal jocks who seemed to hit puberty before their 1st Communion. My father bought us, for Christmas, the basic JC. Penney [or, maybe it was Sears] 120 lb. weight set –complete with cement filled, plastic-coated weights, a barbell bar and two [2] dumbbell bars. To make it easy to switch weights, the set came an Allen wrench so we could tighten the collars that kept the weights on the bar. Dad wasn’t too pleased to have had to do this, but when it came to gifts & presents it was a matter of convenience. Good gracious, to actually pay attention to the nuanced hints that kids give meant having to actually spend time with his kids beyond the dinner table. But, to his credit, most dads from that generation operated that way -a result of a generation of single-income households where the entire financial burden generally fell on the dad. In addition to the weights, he found a padded storage bin made of pressboard that also served as our bench. Once he left for his 2nd shift job, we had the garage to ourselves to set about on our ‘After’ picture dreams. We were set.

GETTING STARTED ..

Did I mention that we grew up in Cleveland, Ohio? Actually, it was Wickliffe, but no one has ever really known where that is once you get outside a 50 mile radius of the city –especially the Canadians [unless, of course, you were from Willowick, Willoughby, or one of the many “Willo-“ communities in the area]. And, one of the many tourist attractions to that part of the country, along with polkas, pierogies and PBR, is sub-zero cold & snow. Dad didn’t want us lifting in the basement because he worried that the dropped plastic-coated weights would chip the cement floor –all 30 or 40 pounds of them [we weren’t very strong back then]. Sometimes Dad’s logic, well, defied logic.

So we got to work out in the garage –around the salty slush that accumulates in the wheel wells of any car driven more than 2 miles during the winter and dressed for the Iditarod. Despite the chart that came with set, we had no idea what we were doing. It’s not that we hadn’t started reading the muscle magazines of the era –Muscular Development [Hoffman], Mr. America [Weider] and others –but the best we could mimic was the ‘scowling’ face of extreme effort. By the end of February our ‘bench’ had collapsed due to the accumulated water & slush; not due to our progressions. It was sad.

HEROES ..

When I tell someone about my beginnings, I usually say that I started working out before Arnold [Schwarzenegger] became fluent in English, or anyone could pronounce his name [Ahh-nold]. He actually was in a movie called ‘Hercules Comes to New York’ and his voice was dubbed like a Brooklyn wise-guy .. hilarious. He & Franco Columbo were the “Mutt & Jeff’ of the bodybuilding world and Sergio Oliva [aka ‘The Myth’] ‘ruled the roost’ with is 21” biceps on a 5’9” frame. My heroes were Dave ‘The Blond Bomber’ Draper [who I first saw on ‘The Monkees” TV show] and Frank “Mr. Symmetry” Zane. Eventually, Arnold got more proficient with English, and my brother & I started working out at the high school; then college.

Sergio Oliva Arnold & Franco Dave Draper Frank Zane

My journey took a huge turn in May, 1974 on Sunday of my Prom weekend. Dad had a heart attack. Since cell phones hadn’t been invented yet [we had CB radios but I was never good with learning 2nd languages], I had no idea until I got home from the day’s festivities. At first, I thought my brother was kidding me; but then his continued somber tone quickly convinced me that he wasn’t. I then went to the hospital to sit with my mom & started taking on the ‘burdens of our world’ since heart attacks in the 1970’s were 3+ months of rest & recovery. So much for college. And, since Dad wasn’t necessarily in the best physical shape [pierogies & PBR, although his true preferences were Schlitz or Schaefer –go figure on that one] before the heart attack,

I figured his recovery would take longer and I would have to go to work to help support the family. That was just how it was then –dads worked, moms stayed at home and if there was a ‘bump in the road’ where dad couldn’t work, then the responsibility fell to the oldest male. Fortunately, while his recovery took a bit longer than anyone wanted, there was enough savings to carry the family through.

DAYS OF WINE & ROSES [Mostly, wine] ..

The mid-1970’s was integral in the upswing of physical fitness. For whatever reasons, society was beginning to take better care of themselves physically. Perhaps it was the realization that the ‘abuse’ of the late 1960’s / early 1970’s that help push the fitness craze. There was the ever-charismatic Arnold [body-building, weight-lifting], then James Fixx [running] leading their respective fields. Of course, the big magazine promoters were the Weider brothers [Joe & Ben], Bob Hoffman and Robert Kennedy. I’m sure there were others in the other fields, but I was only into lifting back then. So we have the confluence of Dad’s heart attack with the surge of the fitness craze and my passion was fueled.

For me, the late 1970’s was a time of great fun & irresponsibility. Dad was soon well enough to go back to work. My brother went off to college. I went to the local JUCO & worked at a nearby Sears store. Whatever time that would’ve been better invested by studying, was spent partying & working out. The job earned enough that I could join an ‘official’ gym –Vic Tanny’s [which begot Scandinavian Health Spa which begot Bally’s] and introduced me to someone who actually knew something about lifting & sculpting the body. That, and the gym had a Jacuzzi for the post-workout cool downs. I was in ‘hog heaven’. The gym was like church to me –a place to ‘duck’ into whenever life’s stresses got to be a bit much so that I could work off that tension & frustration while shaping my body. And, my efforts were bearing noticeable fruit which -for an insecure young guy who always wore ‘Husky’ pants sizes & whose 9th grade nickname was ‘Meatball’ -was refreshing. The ‘conversion’ was complete.

I eventually graduated college in the summer of 1979, then took a job with an accounting firm. At this time, I had a close relationship with the brother of the gal I was dating. Once I took a full-time job, he said to me that my days of working out would wane. “No way!” I retorted. I was the poster-child for someone who lived & breathed for the gym, the pump. But from little seeds, big trees grow. Over the next few years, my career decisons took a few adverse turns that forced me to put more hours into earning an income [thus, less hours in the gym]. Jim was right.

YESTERDAY, I WAS 35 ..

As we grow older, we tend to go to bed one evening and wake up four [4] or five [5] years later. Not that we did a ‘Rip Van Winkle’ –we just got swept away with doing what we have to do to pay rent, the car note, etc. while trying to hold on to and enjoy our youth. Unfortunately, we start making choices that –either consciously or unconsciously –that set the tone for the years to come. Sadly, I had fallen away from the ‘church’. As a result, I lost most muscle tone & gained weight –something that’s easy to do when your caloric input exceeds their output. I knew better, but could never ‘muscle up’ the discipline to reverse that trend.

Fast forward twenty five [25] years. During that time, I got married, had two children, bought & sold a couple houses, ran a collection agency, then managed a high-level group of collectors at another, got divorced, fell in love again, and moved to New York City while occasionally trying to find my way back to ‘church’ on a regular basis.

Soon after moving to NYC, I joined the gym was persuaded to take on the services of a Personal Trainer. At the suggestion of another trainer, settled on Ric [aka “Mini Vin” Diesel] who, it was suggested, best suited for an old-school, weight lifter like me. Thank goodness he was patient –especially, after the 1st few sessions [ok, months .. lol] when he admitted that he thought he was being ‘punked’ because it didn’t take much for me to get winded or just plain ‘beat’ from the simple, beginner workouts that he started me on. I came into the gym at 235 lbs, had not worked out consistently for at least 5+ years and had dietary habits that would rival Jabba the Hutt. We started out slow, but I was consistent. Two years later, I was 215 lbs. I felt stronger than ever –even in the late 1970’s when I was in the gym almost every day.

Rick Vin Me

WHY BECOME A PERSONAL TRAINER?

While on vacation in early 2014, I was looking additional tools to add to my 'Retirement Toolbox'. I have 25+ years doing collections and am certified to teach English as a Second Language [ESL]. Either would be suffice to generate enough of an income so I wouldn't have to draw from the retirement savings until I reached age 65. Then it struck me, I love physical fitness and since I was semi-retired and with 'time on his hands' I decided to pursue a Certificate in Personal Training. And, so began a 6 month program of five [5] to six [6] hour days of self-study -an effort that is a lot more difficult in one's late 50's than it was in my early 20's. But I persisted. The funny thing about the Certificate exam was it was held at computer center in downtown Manhattan. Curiously, there were ten [10] to fifteen [15] other people taking their Trainer's test -obvious by the odd gesticulations we each did as tried to determine how & what moves in the Scapular cradle as the deltoid exerts through the shoulder press. The 3 hour test covers 150 questions and I finished in two; however, there were questions that I needed to review. After going through the entire exam once again in 45 minutes, I was now posed with the question "Are you done with your test?" Figuring there was little more I could do in the remaining 15 minutes, I pressed 'Yes." Rather than instantly grade the test & give my "life or death" results, in the most sadistic way a cold-hearted computer can, asked "Are you sure?"

Fortunately, I passed on first try. But, I'm a bit ahead of myself here.

THINGS WERE GOING GOOD, THEN ..

WHACK !! Yep, that 2x4 to the head diagnosis called ‘Cancer’. One day in August, I am in the shower lathering up my face to shave when I noticed a rather substantial lump on my neck. Now this was a lump that was not there yesterday, but here today and probably the size of a medium walnut. Knowing this wasn’t a normal lump [no info on WebMD] and being two [2] weeks out from taking the test for my Certification, decided that once the test was done I would set an appointment with an ENT. And, thus began a series of doctor’s appointments which each ‘kicking me upstairs’ to the next more qualified specialist until WHACK. “Mr. Schaefer, you have Cancer.” Boy, once that reality settled in, one’s perspective on everything changes.

So here we are today. As you can see from the e-mail updates to my friends & family, it was “Ninety Days to Hell & Back”. All I know is that the “Money in Bank” accumulated through the previous two [2] years of working out prior to treatment served me better than anything I could’ve imagined. Now, it’s time to begin the ‘Restoration’ leg of this journey. I guarantee you it’s going to be a very interesting trip.