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DR.
RICK'S THIRD ACT |
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Alright,
so I lied. S, sue me. I had promised to disappear for a little
while, but after catching the competitive bug, I was easily
prodded by my "advisors" to consider entering the
NPC New England Championship on Sunday, April 21. Why, you ask
yourself, would a "natural", nutritional supplement
enhanced (per previous posts) bodybuilder expose him or herself
to the murky waters of an untested competition. Let me tell
you--It was worth the potential disappointment, the potential
embarassment--it was even worth the entry fee. I confess, I
had to trust my friends that I wouldn't look like a "dork"
standing next to a bunch of huge "freaks" on stage.
I was reassured that I would at least be presenting the same
symmetric, complete package that I had presented in my two previous
competitions, aided by well-instructed and thouroughly practiced
posing. What the hell....I took the bait and decided to go for
it. Of course,
I had bagged the diet for a couple of days before I decided
to do it. So that meant another adventure in carb depletion
last Wednesday. I wasn't as well-prepared for that this time,
so I didn't have my food support system on standby--I resorted
to a little peanut butter here and there to get me through the
day. Thursday, I looked a little soft (as one would expect),
not quite as cut up, and I was questioning entry. By Saturday,
though, I looked fuller and harder than the week before. I was
still holding onto my size, but showing even more cuts which
had previously not been there. Now, because
I hadn't planned to do this particular competition, I hadn't
made any provisions in my call schedule, and I was on call that
Saturday. The day was reasonably quiet, and I was happy to have
thetime to catch up on paperwork and a little relaxation. I
applied my tanning solution to everything but my arms--just
in case I had to operate--but finally, as things remained uneventful,
I even put the stuff onmy arms around midnight, just before
going to bed. RRRRRRRRRRing--2:30
am. It was the orthopedic surgery resident--they were covering
hands tonight, but plastic surgery always covers finger reattachments.
He was evaluating a thumb amputation in the emergency room,
and the thumb, though still partly attached, would need to have
the artery and nerves repaired. I couldn't believe what was
happening--but as usual, I just got up, washed the color off
of my arms, and drove to the hospital, where I spent the rest
of the night reattaching the thumb. Actually, it only took about
3 hours, a little quicker than usual. When 7:00 am rolled around,
I questioned my sanity as I rushed home to apply a second coat
of color, pack some food, and drive to Boston. Because
I hadn't registered, I had to be there at 10:00. Of course,
I got there and nothing happened for about 45 minutes. When
I finally registered, I weighed myself with clothes to mark
on the form--and only weighed 191. One of my friends had warned
me that the scale might be light--don't get worried. I figured
that I might have lost some water having been up all night.
My body tends to do that. It didn't really matter at that point
anyway--nothing was going to change. When we finally weighed
in for real about an hour later, wearing only posing trunks,
I was a whopping 186 lbs. I hadn't registered that low a weight
in two years, and had I not been forewarned, I might have really
felt depressed. I don't think I could possibly have lost 19
pounds for this contest--I didn't have 19 pounds to lose. For
what it's worth, though, I was ripped! I wandered
around a little. I was afraid to sit for too long, because I
knew I would fall asleep, and I wasn't sure that someone would
wake me up. Gradually, the other athletes assembled, and a fellow
I knew from the gym was there. I sat with him and his girlfriend,
waiting for the weigh-in. Now that's something different. I
had never been to a weight-class competition, so I wasn't sure
what to expect. As everyone went up to the stage to disrobe,
get weighed, and dress up again, I recollected earlier ,recommendations
that you want to keep things covered--hide the goods, basically--perhaps
so that no one sees what you look like when you're truly "relaxed".
When my turn came, I stood there in my posing trunks, considering
leaving my socks on, since they didn't weigh anything, and I
knew that I was in the middle of the weight class anyway. But
everyone else (including the heavyweights, who were assembling
behind us) was taking off their socks--so I took mine off too.
After all,I didn't want to look like a "dork". After the
weigh-in, there was the meeting for orientation, remarkably
similar to the previous ones I had attended. I looked at the
other competitors, and except for the heavyweights and a few
guys in the top of each weight class, most of the competitors
still looked "normal" wearing clothes (referring back
to the "bodybuilder look"). The heavyweights couldn't
hide, nor would they have wanted to hide their hard-earned mass. I was able
to watch the teens and the women do their mandatories. The teens
were big guys, and I reflected on myself as a teenager--skinny,
physically shy, though artistically and intellectually more
aggressive, and generally most comfortable in bulky sweaters
and sweatshirts than in tank tops or shirtless. I would never
have been caught dead or alive on a stage in these skimpy posing
trunks, nor would anyone have encouraged me to do that. I had
survived that part of my life, pocketed the experiences, obtained
my education--and at a rather late point discovered that I could
actually attend to my body without ignoring all the other matters
of importance that seemed to rule my first 30-some years. All
this from a bodybuilding contest??--Fortunately for me, the
women came out before I had a transcendental experience or started
to levitate. The women
were impressive, relative to the women I had seen previously.
Their physiques were significantly more developed, and their
posing, for the most part, was much better. Three of the six
exhibited exceptional elegance in posing, and even the other
two were damn good. I, unlike many men, don't find women bodybuilders
physiques "disgusting" (though I've never seen any
of the "big girls" up close in their posing suits).
I like a woman with some muscle, and these women carried it
off pretty well. I watched
the men get started, but then headed backstage. The area for
pumping up was compact, but warm. I liked the warmth, because
it allowed for my vascularity to come out, as it had in Amherst.
Looking around, though, my vascularity, generally pretty generous,
paled in comparison to some of these other guys. The aroma of
"Hot Stuff" emanated from every-which-way, but there
may have been other ingredients contributing to the remarkable
patterns evidenced throughout each class. After helping
my friend get ready for the middleweight class, I started my
pump up, remembering that my first experience was marked by
an inadequate pump. The atmosphere was not unpleasant, but it
seemed a little less relaxed than the previous contests. I realized
that most of these guys had higher expectations than I did.
While I was looking at the other tall, thin guy--obviously natural,
I assumed--thinking, I can beat him at least, these guys were
trying to figure out how they would win a first place. It was
especially interesting as the heavyweights began to gather.
Many of these guys knew one another. I didn't know anyone at
this point, but I asked a woman who was helping another of the
light-heavyweights to rub some oil on my back. I had noticed
that the lighting favored a lighter sheen from the oil. I felt
like I was getting reasonably pumped, and I looked hard--but
the guys who stood a few inches shorter than me with a few pounds
up on me looked formidably competitive. I wondered to myself
if anyone else had been up all night reattaching a thumb. We headed
out as a class. I was #30 this time, and I missed #12. Mark,
the guy who cheered me on in Fall River and Amherst, was there
helping out the guy who ended up winning the Teen Class, who
was also competing in my class. Obviously, though he complimented
me on how I looked, he was cheering on his man during the quarter
turns and the mandatories. I understood, of course. Between
the quarter turns and the mandatories, there was a 60 second
posing routine without music. I had modified my routine, taking
out some of the "glitz", and hitting all of the madatory
poses. It seemed to go well, and I felt reasonably comfortable.
I hoped that they couldn't see how skinny I had gotten. Certainly,
though, when we were all standing there together, I felt like
they knew that my appearance was the result of "Proper
Posing" rather than sheer bulk. I held the mandatories
with resolve--for longer a period than I had experienced in
the previous two contests. On my side triceps, I couldn't keep
my "vacuum" for the whole period the first time. I
tried not to pant as I took shallow breaths, waiting for the
"relax" signal. I knew, at least, that I could survive
the long holds, since I practiced that way--but I confess, this
was even longer than I was accustomed to. I was thankful for
my friends--and one of my patients who happened to be at the
prejudging round--for keeping me tight with the standard calls
which were gradually gaining in familiarity: "Bring your
arms out", "Tighten your legs", "Lookin'
hard, man"....all prefaced by a #30 or my name--or "Doc"! We were
herded off the stage and replaced by the Heavyweights. I watched
in amazement, observing how some could demonstrate their wares
so much better than others. I thought one of the guys was going
to blow a gasket with his breathing style during his 60 second
routine. These guys were heavily invested in the endeavor--physically,
mentally, and most certainly financially. I looked for evidence
of gynecomastia. I wondered if it was possible to reach those
proportions with good food and exercise alone--I doubted it. When Prejudging
was over, some of my friends and I walked to Newbury Street.
I had decided that the meal of the day was going to be sushi,
and though I misjudged the distance of the Japanese restaurant
that I knew was on Newbury Street, i did manage to achieve my
goal. Once again, a little extra sodium load in the miso soup
and soy sauce, a touch of the hot and spicy in the wasabi, and
I was ready for the evening show. Only one thing was missing
at this point--about five or six hours of sleep. But I couldn't
sleep--too much action. I returned
to the auditorium to find a crowd gathering. It was 4:45, and
the evening show was to start around 5:00. Jay Cutler, his girlfriend,
Kerry, and his sister, Kelly, were sitting at a table with Nasser
El-Sonbaty selling photos and signing autographs. Now, you realize
that Jay at 5'9", 270 (off season weight) is probably the
biggest bodybuilder I've ever seen up close. Nasser was weighing
in around 325 for the day--we're talking HUGE. I've taken care
of patients who were bigger than that, but they were just big
and fat. Pretty remarkable--though I prefer the "smaller"
guys like Flex Wheeler, Shawn Ray, Lee Labrada, Charles Clairemont...get
my drift? Nonetheless, the guy is that big--and pleasant as
well. The competitors
were once again assembled, and Mike Katz, who was the M.C. introduced
himself and proceeded to orient us to how the evening would
go. (If you begin to sense that I've been spending the day in
the presence of "giants"--at least "giants"
in the bodybuilding world, you're right. Of course, no one that
I work with or associate with outside of the gym had a clue
who any of these people are.) As competitor #30, I was able
to watch the first 20 competitors. Some awesome routines. The
quality of posing among the women was, for the most part, much
better than I had seen, and many of the men were also more practiced
and polished. My routine was very good--but there were routines
here that were "great". This was in no way discouraging
to me--It was my first season, my third show, I'd been up all
night, and I was learning and growing with each pose. The day
confirmed the fact that you have to putyourself out there to
make gains--"No guts, no glory!" After my
routine, I wiped my oil off and went out to watch the remaining
competitors. I was very curious to see what the heavyweights
looked like with their routines. Again, there were a variety
of approaches--from the random hit-the-pose-off-the-beat routine
to the polished, choreographed "Shawn Ray--watch out, I'm
coming to get you" routines. I guess the one guy (who ended
up winning the whole deal) does a little "dancing"
on the side (or maybe for a living, for all I know). His routine
was great. During
the intermission, I was just hanging out with Jay and Kerry,
while he was getting ready to guest pose. I lent him my surgical
tubing to do some stretching and warming up, and one of the
middle weights remarked that he was going out to buy himself
some--if that's how big you can get using it. I told him that
it was mine, and that I used to be as big as Jay until I started
to use it:) He seemed to be amused. I wandered into Mike Katz
and introduced myself. I mentioned that I had been up all night
reattaching a thumb, and he found that interesting. I looked
at the list of "finalists" and saw that I had at least
beat the other "natural" guy (again, I'm making an
assumption which anyone who was there would also have made...)
So I was going to have another trophy. Cool. I watched
Jay do his routine--his girlfriend was more nervous than he
was, I think. He was impressively huge, though certainly not
in contest shape. The crowd responded to his rear lat spread
with appropriate awe. He's a big guy. When he finished, he seemed
relieved. That was the first time I'd seen him pose, except
when he guest posed for me at my lecture and when he helped
me getting ready. He did a good job, and the crowd was really
into it. The next time I turned around, he was dressed again,
hanging out backstage to watch the awards--and give the overall. Once again,
the competitors warmed up a little, oiled up, and started out
to collect their bounty. There were pose downs and the women's
overall and then the men. Before Mike introduced the light-heavyweights,
he told the audience how I had spent my night "preparing"
for the contest. I suppose that if anyone had found me asleep
in the auditorium after that, they would have at least been
tolerant or sympathetic. Even in this audience, confirmation
of bodybuilders as not just a bunch of dumb muscle heads could
be made. Anyway, he called us out, and I could hear some of
my friends shouting to me. After a brief pose down, the awards
were given. I took fifth, confirming that "size counts".
I was happy to still be in the running at all, and I suspected
that in a contest where many of the competitors have had some
chemical enhancement, thicker muscularity is accepted more as
the norm. My friends had placed me third, and I had thought
perhaps fourth--the teenager who had crossed over looked good
among the teenagers (and won there), but I didn't think his
cuts were as sharp or his shape as aesthetic. No question, though--he
was bigger. And speaking
of bigger, the heavyweights received their awards, and one of
the guys seemed angry at the result. I guess when you have invested
what they have invested....The overall result was as I would
have predicted--the heavyweight with the great routine won. Next, Nasser
did his routine. I'm amazed he can even walk, as big as he is.
But he actually moved pretty well. He did his thing and was
finished, but Mike made him go back out and down into the audience.
I don't think he was psyched, but he did it. When he came back
he was laughing and shaking his head. I was standing with Jay,
and I had my picture taken with the two of them, and then with
Mike Katz. A little history.... I gathered
my bag and met up with Jay and Kerry in the back of the auditorium.
He had a large group of friends and family with him, and they
were about as hungry as I was. My other friends headed back
to Worcester, and our party of 18 went in search of food. The
end of the evening was as enlightening as the entire day had
been. Jay's nutritionist, Chris Aceto, and his wife, Laura Creavalle
sat opposite me at dinner--and confirmed for me that there is
nothing wrong with my turkey chili. There was nothing wrong
with the key lime pie I had for desert either--or the several
gallons of water and ginger ale that I drank...After all of
that, Kerry generously drove me back to Worcester, otherwise
I might still be sleeping in the Burger King parking lot at
the first rest area on the Mass Pike. I appreciate
the opportunity to share this with list subscribers. You have
all been kind and supportive. I would encourage anyone who is
thinking of competing to do it. You don't have to win to have
fun, but you can win and still have a great time. If you have
people around you who can tell you honestly how you are doing,
that helps. While I knew that my size couldn't match most of
the guys in this contest, I at least knew that I could put on
a respectable performance--and that was enough for me. Mike
Katz made a comment which was very relavant. He reminded the
audience--the supporters--to be supportive. But rather than
placing blame on poor judging or politics when trying to figure
out why the guy you were cheering on didn't win, look at the
package your friend or family member presented. And try to support
them in improving it. My friends still told me they thought
I should have placed higher, but I had already looked at what
I had to present--And I already know that I have to get bigger. So, it's
back to the gym...lots of food...more sleep, maybe...and some
warm New England weather. I hope I'll be able to read about
some other great competitive experiences when I get back from
Ecuador. Good luck to anyone and everyone getting ready for
competition. Rick Silverman,
M.D. "What a man puts foremost in his life will tell you not only where he is going but about how far he will go". --D. Ralph Millard, Jr., M.D. |
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