When I was 12-years-old, my dad brought home a set of 10-pound dumbbells from the local sporting goods store. I had no clue how to use them, but I remember grabbing them from his room one day, taking them into my bedroom, lying face-down on the edge of the bed, and attempting a teenage boy’s version of biceps curls until I couldn’t lift those weights anymore..
I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. But one thing I did know for certain: the next day my arms were very, very sore. And – perhaps a little bigger? Just like many boys, I flexed my muscles in the mirror, and it certainly did seem like my arms grew a bit. Not only did that mean these dumbbells might make me stronger or faster, but they might make me look better too – and at that time in my life, that meant two things: girls looking at me and guys being jealous of me.
Through high school I continued to lift weights and actually got what I (and others) would describe as a nice “bod.” And