I Expected to Be a Bodybuilder by 11

A split-image representation of Shawn as a young boy beginning weight training and Shawn at age 52 after decades of personal change. As a child, he wanted a muscular physique to feel bigger and more intimidating. As an adult, he still trains, but now does it to challenge himself and grow physically, mentally, and spiritually.

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a bodybuilder.

Not eventually.

Not after years of training, proper nutrition, puberty, and all those other minor details.

I wanted muscles.

Preferably immediately.

Looking back, I understand why so many boys and men want to become more muscular. Sometimes the desire to get bigger is about much more than the muscles themselves.

Every time we went to the grocery store, I would disappear into the magazine section and stare at bodybuilding magazines.

These guys were huge.

Then on the weekends, I would watch professional wrestling and see more enormous men walking around looking like nobody in their right mind would mess with them.

That appealed to me.

Because underneath all of that, I was a pretty sensitive kid.

I felt small.

And somewhere in my young mind, I came up with a very simple solution:

If I could get big enough, maybe I wouldn't feel small anymore.

If I looked intimidating, maybe nobody would see the scared kid underneath.

Perfect plan.

All I needed were muscles.

Christmas came through

When I was around 10, I got a weight bench and weights for Christmas.

This was it.

My transformation had begun.

I got to work.

Apparently, I believed a ten-year-old with a starter weight set was only a few workouts away from looking like the grown men in the magazines.

I lifted.

I checked my progress.

I lifted some more.

Checked again.

Still ten.

Still skinny.

Still no championship belt.

Frankly, I was disappointed with the program.

Nobody had explained to me that building a grown man's physique might require slightly more time than I had budgeted.

So eventually, I moved on to more realistic career goals.

Like becoming an astronaut.

Or a rock star.

Clearly, I was learning to manage expectations.

But that kid never completely left

Years passed.

A lot happened.

There were different versions of me along the way.

The rocker.

The tough guy.

The addict.

The guy trying to look like he had everything under control.

Then I got clean and sober.

And somewhere during rebuilding my life, I found my way back to the gym.

This time I stayed.

I kept training.

Year after year.

And here is the part I find interesting.

At 52 years old, I finally have something much closer to the physique that little boy used to stare at in those magazines and wish he could have.

He finally got what he wanted.

It just took about four decades longer than he expected.

But there is an even stranger part.

I don't need it anymore for the reason he wanted it.

The gym stayed. The reason changed.

That ten-year-old wanted muscles because he thought looking big and intimidating would protect him.

He wanted the outside to make up for what he felt on the inside.

If I could become strong enough...

big enough...

tough enough...

maybe I wouldn't have to feel scared or sensitive anymore.

At 52, I still love training.

I still enjoy pushing myself.

I like being strong.

I like seeing what my body is capable of.

But I'm not trying to scare the world away anymore.

I'm not trying to build armor around a frightened kid.

The gym stayed.

The reason changed.

And I think that's an important part of changing that doesn't get talked about very much.

Sometimes healing doesn't mean you stop doing something.

Sometimes the thing itself was never the problem.

What changes is why you need it.

We don't always want what we think we want

A lot of us spend our lives chasing something because of what we believe it will finally make us feel.

More money.

A certain body.

The relationship.

The title.

The house.

Recognition.

Success.

We think:

When I get there, then I'll feel safe.

Then I'll feel worthy.

Then people will respect me.

Then I'll finally be enough.

Sometimes we eventually get the thing.

And discover the old wound is still sitting there waiting for us.

Because the external goal was trying to do an internal job it was never capable of doing.

Ten-year-old me thought becoming physically bigger would make that feeling of being small disappear.

It didn't work that way.

The bigger transformation happened somewhere else.

It happened through recovery.

Through changing how I lived.

Through working on what I carried.

Through learning who I was when I wasn't trying so hard to become somebody else.

I finally became the person he wanted to look like

There is something almost funny about looking at those old pictures now.

That little kid would probably look at 52-year-old me and think:

Finally.

He would probably be impressed.

He might also wonder why it took me so damn long.

But I think the bigger surprise for him would be discovering that I no longer need the muscles for the job he hired them to do.

I don't need them to prove I'm tough.

I don't need them to hide that I'm sensitive.

I don't need people to look at me and think twice about messing with me.

I train now because I want to keep becoming the best version of myself I can physically, mentally, and spiritually.

I want to challenge myself.

I want to see what is possible.

And I want my life to be an example of what can happen when a person decides the old story doesn't have to be the final one.

That's a completely different reason to pick up the weights.

Sometimes getting what you wanted shows you how much you've changed

I think there is something valuable about looking back at what younger versions of ourselves desperately wanted.

Not to make fun of them.

Although occasionally they make that very difficult.

But to ask:

What did I think that thing was going to give me?

Safety?

Love?

Approval?

Confidence?

Belonging?

Protection?

And do I still need it for the same reason?

Because sometimes the clearest evidence that you've changed isn't that you stopped wanting something.

It's that you can finally have it without needing it to fix you.

At 10, I wanted muscles so I wouldn't feel small.

At 52, I have much closer to the body that kid wanted.

But feeling bigger didn't come from building bigger arms.

That part happened somewhere else.

I still go to the gym.

I still push myself.

I still want to get better.

But these days, I'm not trying to become someone the world should be afraid of.

I'm just trying to become more fully myself.

And honestly?

Ten-year-old me would probably still ask when we're getting into the wrestling ring.

Shawn