I almost didn’t write this blog. Every time I sat down to write it, I thought of a great story I heard early in my newspaper career. Like many stories, the tale has likely grown through the years, but here’s a summary:
A body builder walks into the Brownsville Herald in deep south Texas and asks to talk to the sports editor. He tells the editor, a longtime, grizzled veteran of sports writing, that he should write a story about his accomplishments in body building.
After listening to the man for several minutes about his accomplishments, notably his most recent competition, the sports editor asks the body builder how he fared in the competition. The body builder puffs out his chest like Sylvester Stallone at the end of the second Rambo movie and says, “I finished in third place.”
The editor asks, “Third? And how many people were in the competition?” Without missing a beat, the body builder says, “Well, there were three.”
Legend has it the sports editor laughed the guy out of the newsroom.
So, why did that story give me pause in writing a blog about fitness? Because there probably should be an asterisk next to my latest fitness accomplishment: Winning the fitness competition at my workplace, Washburn University.
Before I get to the asterisk, let’s talk about the competition. To say the least, it’s not for the weak-minded, or, frankly, the out of shape:
- Event 1 (September): Bench Rep-Off. Bench 75 percent of your weight as many times as you can. For me, at 215 pounds, that meant benching 165 pounds. The benchmark for my age group (40-49) was 12 reps. I got 25. At 165 pounds.
- Event 2 (October): Fitness Games. 20 pushups, 15 burpees and one lap (one-tenth of a mile) as many times as you can in 15 minutes. The benchmark for my age group was three. I got three in 13 minutes and called it good. And I wasn’t right for three days.
- Event 3 (November): Strong Bod. Bench your weight five times, pull-ups and, honestly, I don’t remember the third part of the competition. I managed to bench 220 pounds five times, but did not benchmark in the other exercises.
- Event 4 (January): Mini-Triathlon. Row 2,000 meters on the rowing machine, ride a bike for 3 miles and run for two miles. Though I have competed in this competition before, including a time of 47 minutes in 2014, I was not able to this year due to a back strain.
- Event 5 (February): Most-Fit. Run as far as you can in 12 minutes, do as many squats as you can without a break, do as many pushups as you can without a break, plank as long as you can, sit and reach, and Yoga tree pose. My stats: Nine-tenths of a mile (I learned long ago to pace yourself in this competition), 50 squats (again, achy back), 45 pushups, 35 seconds plank (back again), 17 on the sit and reach and 1:35 on the pose. I hit benchmarks on pushups, sit and reach, and pose.
The point system for this series is straight-forward. You get 500 points for winning your
division and additional points for benchmarking. You can probably see where this is going. I won four of the five events in my age division because virtually nobody else competed. That led to (drum roll) winning the overall competition and getting a photo with the women’s competition winner on social media.
When a student worker (also the women’s champ) informed me that I’d won, I laughed and said, “Well, OK, but that’s a little embarrassing. I won because I didn’t have any competition, literally. There should be an asterisk next to this.”
Nonetheless, I took the photo, of course, and donated the prize (an awesome pair of shorts) to a student who needs them more than I do.
I almost wrote about “winning” the competition that day, then I remembered the body builder story. Stay humble. Don’t be that guy.
But a few months later, as I came across one of the three shirts I received for benchmarking, it hit me that I should be proud of this accomplishment. Sure, I won a division that was basically vacant, but I also benchmarked multiple times and lifted as much weight as people 20 years younger. Ten years ago, I weighed 315 pounds. That’s worth celebrating.
Long live the champion.*