by Mike Gill

The North Buffalo Fitness center doesn't look like what you might think a Strongman training center would look like. It's owner, Glen, may not look like a Strongman either; but in both cases you would be wrong, very wrong.

The gym is located in one of Buffalo's richest old neighborhoods. It's close to the art museum, Olmstead Park, and mansions that line nearby streets. Glen decided to rent the space and put in a hybrid gym; all the traditional equipment and niceties up front then fill the loading dock out back with stones, tires, and kegs; also known as "the good stuff."

At 6'4" and 231lbs Glen is big, but not huge, not like the guys on TV. He's a lightweight pro competing in the 231lbs and Under division. But don't be fooled. Lightweights are only slightly less impressive than the heavyweights in terms of strength. Most of them are just as strong as the best heavies in the world were 5 or so years ago.

I walked in to the NBFC not too sure what to expect. I met a bunch of great young guys who had been training together about a year. A few of them had already done some contests. I was 14 years older than most of the guys and admittedly a step slower. But with over 15 years of training under my belt I was pretty comfortable with new things and about 30lbs heaver than most of them as well.

After two solid hours of farmers' walks, tire flipping and stone loading I was beat, but excited. I did great on all the events and after I got the hang of them I was either faster or doing more reps on everything then anyone else. I thought I was a natural.

After two weeks of this, Glen's schedule cleared up and he was able to train with us on Saturday, our regular training time. We started with farmers walks. It's a grueling test of grip strength and foot speed that asks an athlete to carry a heavy weight in each hand 100' down and back. After some warm-ups I did a work set with 225lbs per hand easily and quickly.

Glen then upped the weight 50lbs a side and ripped off one of the quickest walks I have ever seen.

"All right Gill, your turn" Glen said.

This weight was much heavier than I had ever done but I didn't question him, I just went to the weights, grabbed them and proceeded to walk the course; much slower and with a lot more effort. Five hundred and fifty pounds is much more difficult then four hundred and fifty.

Then things got a little nuts.

He put on 25 more pounds on each side. That is 600 if you are counting.

He did his set, start to stop, without a drop and even though it was tough for him, he did it solidly. I was next, apparently.

"That's a lot of weight" I said.

"That's the weight heavies use at Nationals" he replied.

I walked over to a box lid on the floor and picked up a bar of chalk. I rubbed it on my hands and began talking with myself.

It's not that heavy, I repeated over and over. I can do this.

I squatted down and wrapped my fingers around the handles. I focused on the mark on the floor ahead of me. I drove my heels into the floor and pulled upwards. The weight gave and I started baby-stepping forward. I could barely breathe but I was inching close to my mark. As I hit the line on the floor I began to turn for the walk back. This is the most difficult part of any Farmer's Walk.

Normally the weights are fairly easy to control. As long as you keep moving in a straight line, they just hang there dead at your sides. The problem is keeping them at your sides as you make a 180 degree turn and head back. The five foot long handles seem to take on a life of their own. Picture a crane lifting a steel girder up several stories, if wind comes and starts to push it havoc is inevitable.

The farmers walk is no different. On the turn, it's critical that the outside weights cross in front of the inside weights. If you turn around to your right you must cross the weight on the left side of your body in front of the one on the right or it will spin out of control. You are not strong enough to stop the momentum from continuing right and pulling you off course.

I did not succeed in crossing the weights. As I passed the halfway point the weight in my left hand continued out and away from me. I tried hard to control it but it was too much. I only made it five feet before they fell. I had to reset and keep going even though I really wanted to quit; halfway with that weight was pretty good I thought.

Unfortunately, the guys were yelling words like "bitch" and "pussy." If I quit now, that's what I would be. So I grabbed the weight, pulled and it came up. I staggered forward. Each footstep was a personal record. The chalk line on the floor got closer and closer and as my grip gave for a second time I crossed over it.

I was spent. Done. I had no more in the tank. My hands felt like all the flesh had been ripped off them and then been dipped in rubbing alcohol. On top of that, I wasn't too sure that my shoulders were still in their sockets. None of that mattered, however, because I couldn't get any air in my lungs.

"Ok guys, lets hit the tire." Glen said.

And on the day went. Glen schooled me on tire, then the stones, and then finally when we were all ready to dial 911 we finished with some light sled drags with 400lbs. I'm not too sure how I made it home without passing out or driving into an expressway wall. But I did, and I did it again the week after that and again the week after that; testing myself and getting better every week.. After 5 months I was ready to test my mettle.

I decided to compete in Pittsburgh's Strongest Man.

Posted by Mike Gill at 6:00 AM

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Posted by: Wayland at February 19, 2007 07:18 PM

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