What do I think when you see a skinny kid curling 5kg dumbbells in the gym?

I think about how I used to be that kid.

When I first started lifting, I can't tell you how many people told me that I was wasting my time.  Even after 4 years of lifting on my own I still barely looked like I had a gym membership, let alone lifted weights 6-7 days a week.  Every day, I would show up to the gym and look in the mirror, imagining what it would be like to be muscular.  I wanted girls to like me and guys to respect me.  And no matter how much I was told "you'll never get there," I just kept trying.

It wasn't until I joined the gym across the street from my college apartment that I really found a community.  One of the big powerlifters saw me show up every night, trying my heart out, and invited me to lift with him.  We ended up becoming amazing friends and lifting partners for years.

When I was first lifting with C3 though, his entire crew asked what he was doing.  C3 (Chris) is a big dude: Chris Craft (@c3muscle) • Instagram photos and videos

He lifted with all the big dudes.  They would watch me show up to lift every night, and behind my back and under their breath they'd ask him, "Why you fuckin' with this white kid?" 

"Give him time," said Chris.  And then he'd go, "Come on, Cole.  It's your set.  Let's get it."

He took a lot of shit for lifting with me.  For a few months, a bunch of his lifting buddies stopped lifting with him because I had become part of the crew.  More than that, I was really Chris's protogé.  He taught me everything, but even more than that, he gave me the confidence to really grow into myself.

8 months later, and I was staring at the 100lb dumbbells.  Every big dude, all of Chris's friends, were standing behind my bench, forming a half circle. 

"Come on, C," he said.  "Today is the day."

I clapped my hands together once and picked up the weights.  They felt like two giant mountains.  I was wearing a cut up, no-sleeve shirt.  I had thick veins running up and down both of my biceps, tiny veins popping out of my shoulders.  Everyone in the gym was looking at me.  8 months ago, I looked like a human toothpick.

"Get your mind right," said Chris.  "On my count."

I took a deep breath, both dumbbells sitting on my quads. 

"One."

I nodded my head.

"TWO."

I closed my eyes and took in the biggest breath I'd ever taken in my life.

"THREE!"

I leaned back, the 100lb dumbbells falling towards my chest.  I pushed up with everything I had, my face contorted and turning red.  From behind me, voices were shouting, "GET IT UP.  DON'T BE A BITCH, COLE.  COME ON."  I pushed, and pushed, and pushed—it was the slowest rep, but eventually, I hit the top.  I had done it.  I had gone from barely being able to lift the 50lb dumbbells to getting 1 rep of the 100s by myself.  In 8 months, I had grown a lot.

When I dropped the weights, every big dude that had been watching came up and gave me their respect.  They dapped me up, gave me a fist pound.  The "grandfather" of the group, this shredded-to-the-bone 60 year old black dude, said, "Aight Cole, I see you.  You earned your card.  You in the big boys club now."

Point is, don't doubt the skinny kid.  For the first 4 years of lifting, I didn't even know back was a muscle group you could lift.  I thought the back machines were just variations of bicep exercises. 

Don't tear the kid down.  Help build him up.

You never know who he'll turn into.