My father used to be like me back in his prime. I remember back when I was 9-10, I'd spend time with my dad in the basement while he worked out. Than after his workout, he would hit the heavy bag. He used to draw a smiley face on the bag low enough for me to punch. He would let me do 5lb bicep curls, but never pushed me as I was young. I've lived my entire life as a shadow of my father. He's the greatest man I've ever met and I love him to death. He's always been the most hard working, solid guy I've ever met, even at 5'9". I believe through time I've realized him and I are the same person, and I have amazing genetics for physique thanks to his side of the family tree. We are known for having extremely ripped forearms and a good overall balance to the physique as an entire family, so once I realized that I decided to use my advantage of this and take it further.
Fast forward to grade 9. My first high school fist fight; first week of grade 9. 100 students in the main gym watching, me being on the football team, I needed to kick his ass. And I did. And we both shook hands afterwards. But I was a mess, covered in blood and so was he. I couldn't help but think I could have ended this fight earlier if I knew how to fight better, and I was bigger/stronger. While I now realize it's not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog, back then my mentality was if I can lift more than you, I'd own you in a fight.
I don't fight anymore, that's a thing of the past. But what I do love is how my childhood ties into my weightlifting and my hard work ethic as a man in general. I do it because I love it. I owe it all to my father.
