Well, I’ve been training for over 20 years now.  Realizing that, I have been doing a lot more reflecting on the life I have had in bodybuilding.  The places I have travelled, the people I’ve met, all the grocery stores and butcher shops I have frequented, and of course the workouts.  Lots and lots of brutal workouts.

I could sit and talk for hours about some of the things I remember seeing, and how those moments inspired me to take it to the next level.  I could talk about driving 8 hours to Prince George in the fall of 93 to see Dorian Yates guest pose shortly after his 2nd Olympia win, or the first time I trained at Gold’s Gym in Venice, California.  I would love to talk about all the awesome workouts I hammered in Australia with Jon Davie and Nick Jones.  Those years shaped my work ethic like no others.  However, since I only have room for one story about being inspired, I’ll go back to the beginning and start with the following tale.

November 1992.  I was 17 and in Grade 12, with 2.5 years of hitting the gym under my belt.  I would have weighed about 220.  I’d been training at Grande Prairie Family Fitness (formerly  called  World Gym) since my first workout in Grade 9, so I pretty much knew everyone there.  There were even some bodybuilders and power lifters there.

I was training hard after school one day, and I remember it being really cold out.  Like, Grande Prairie, Alberta style, -30C.  I remember standing by the front window looking out between sets that day, and a little Pontiac Fire Fly pulled up in front of the gym.  Now, for those who don’t remember those little FireFlys…They were small cars.  The road in front of the gym hadn’t exactly been plowed lately, and it was a total disaster.  The Fire Fly pulled up and parked, all crooked too, because of the snowbanks being so uneven.  The doors opened, and out stepped two big dudes, all bundled up in huge winter, army jackets.  They pulled gym bags out from the back of the car, and proceeded towards the front door in the blizzard.

A few minutes later, they entered the gym.  I remember staring because they were the biggest guys I had ever seen in the gym.  Both stood around 5′10″, and they were around 240.  They were wearing baggy sweats, and Gator’s Gym sweatshirts.  One had a cap on, and the other had a headband, but they both had long hair.  They looked bad ass.  One of them even trained in work boots.  Both had big shoulders and traps too, so they looked really hardcore, even in all the sweats they had on.  They were the closest thing to The Barbarian Brothers I had ever seen.  I thought that was just a mythical magazine thing, but there they were, and by the looks of things they were going to squat.

They both wore their headphones, and didn’t make eye contact with anyone.  NOBODY.  They were there to train, and only train.  Period.  There was an energy coming from the squat rack, as they warmed up with the bar, and then 135.  I noticed that they were squatting all the way down.  Deep as hell.  Not many guys went that deep, and I took notice.  They both pumped out 225 for an easy 10 reps, and put 315 on the bar.

They took turns with 315, both getting 10-12 reps.  I remember noticing that neither one of them really “spotted” or even kept watch of the other guy during those sets.  Whoever wasn’t squatting, was sitting on the bench they had placed by the rack, staring at the floor, occasionally counting reps out loud for the other guy.  At that point I also noticed that they had taken the safety bars out of the rack, and tossed them aside.  Also, they weren’t using any collars, so the plates constantly rattled on the bar.  With no safety pins in the rack, and the plates jangling and banging with each rep, there was an extra element of danger added to the entire process of squatting with heavy weights to fatigue.  Anyone who remembers the beautiful sound of rattling 45lb plates knows what I’m talking about.

After the set with 315, they added another plate, taking them to 405.  There was a loud CLAP when they pushed all the plates together again.  The whole gym knew there was some serious squatting going on by the sound of those plates.

Now, I’d singled 405 by the start of grade 12, and I had seen power lifters put up 500-600+, but these guys were about to rep out with 405, with no safety bars or collars.  Things were starting to look pretty cool.  I don’t remember which one went first, but I remember them both putting on some knee wraps, and pumping out really intense sets of at least 8-10 reps, right to failure, with a couple assisted reps from each other.

They were really pushing hard, and digging deep.  The first several reps of each set would be non-stop up and down type reps.  Then, as they approached failure, they would pause at the top, and take a few deep breaths before grinding out another rep or two.  It was even more hardcore than the scene in Pumping Iron, where Arnold is squatting with Ed Corney.  I wouldn’t call it yelling, but they weren’t afraid to tell the other guy he had another rep in him.  They would slap each other on the back or something, before getting under the bar too.  They weren’t paying any attention to anything else.  The one guy even went to 495, and punched out 5-6 deep reps.  It was awesome!  They went on to finish their leg workout without saying a word to anyone.

It was a high level of focus and intensity, but I felt  like I had what it took to hang with them.  I was already a Dorian Yates fan, and possessed the “here to train” mentality.  For some reason, I wanted to train WITH them.  They were the kings of the gym.

In fact, that’s the bottom line to the story.  They were the kings of the gym.  They were the ones that inspired a lot of the other guys to try a little harder, or dig a little deeper, or just go home.  As an impressionable 17 year old kid, it was amazing to see two guys dominate the squat rack like that, and command the respect of everyone in the gym just by training hard.  I think everyone who trains, or works out regularly dreams about being the king of the gym, so to speak.

I was already inspired by the magazines, and pictures of the worlds best pro bodybuilders.  I had already met a few pros, and been to a Canadian Nationals as a spectator.  However, these guys were real, and in my gym.

Back in those days, before the internet, contact with serious bodybuilders was extremely rare.  You basically had to know them personally in order to learn anything from them.  You certainly didn’t get to watch them train on YouTube, or chat with them on message boards and Facebook.  Factor in my location, Northern Alberta, and there weren’t very good odds that I would meet guys who could inspire me in the gym like that.  Seeing these guys train was something that most people had only heard stories about.

In case you’re wondering, their names were Eric Leroux, and Kevin Jones.

As time went by, we became friends, and even trained together a few times that year.  Kevin moved away to Vancouver after school was done.  Haven’t talked to him since about 95.  However, Eric and I are close friends to this day.  I call him Big E, and he calls me Mr Canada, LOL.  I even lived with him and his wife when I went to college.  Whenever I go home to Grande Prairie, I hook up with Big E for a workout.  He lets me lead now, but still has a bigger chest!

I’ve told him a few times about seeing them squat that day, and how it sticks in my mind as an inspirational moment.  He just laughs about the Fire Fly.

Train hard.  Inspire someone today!

Ron Partlow

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