• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

This is when I started taking steroids, which at the time weren’t illegal or frowned on. In these circles, it was just a part of the program. The pros gave me the name of a doctor who gave me a prescription. Always careful to follow his cycle instructions, I took them for about two years.

I won’t lie. Back then, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. And you could certainly feel and see a difference. In steady increments, my squat increased from 535 to 802 pounds, my bench press from 320 to 455, and my dead lift from 505 to 802. You couldn’t argue with those types of gains.

I guess if steroids had been illegal back then, I would have thought twice about taking them, but they wouldn’t become a political hot potato for another five years, when Canadian sprinter Ben Johnson ran against Carl Lewis at the 1988 Olympics and won, then tested positive for Stanozolol. I was off them long before then.

As an MMA referee years later, I could usually tell which fighters were on steroids. You’d be surprised to know how many fighters were taking steroids and other performance-enhancing drugs. It’s illegal, and I don’t think it’s ever right to break the rules, but I understand why fighters do it. Yes, it’s cheating, but sometimes it’s cheating for a paycheck to feed their families. Sometimes it’s to work through or prevent injuries. I’m not saying all this to condone steroid use. I don’t. The bottom line is that it’s illegal and shouldn’t be done, but I’m smart enough to know guys still do it, cycle off, and never get caught.

I won’t say steroids are addicting physically, but I think they can be psychologically. People start to see results and want more. Human beings are that way. We think if two will do, then four is better, eight is even better, and so on. People can start to abuse, and I think that’s where problems arise.

The one issue I had with steroids was ‘roid rage. I didn’t get mad easier, but if I was going to get mad, I’d get mad. And once I did, I couldn’t let things go. I wanted to hurt whoever had done me wrong.

Dead-lifting 730 pounds at a competition in Pomona, California

If the image of an albino Incredible Hulk comes into your head, you’re on the right track. I was 300 pounds strong. I was winning a lot of local tournaments and was getting ready to go to the Junior Nationals.

But there was one small problem. Powerlifting would never pay the bills no matter how much I lifted, and someone was about to enter my life who’d cause me to reassess my priorities.

My first picture ever with my squeeze, Elaine

ELAINE

To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with.

—Mark Twain

Some men promise their women riches and a life of luxury. Others—mostly the poor ones—promise the sun, moon, and stars. I bribed my wife to marry me with a five-gallon tub of peppermint ice cream.

Romantic, I know, but it’s a true story. I swear. In my defense, have you seen a five-gallon tub of ice cream?

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. I should probably tell you first how I met Elaine, the woman I’ve been married to for twenty-seven years now, because she plays an intricate role in my story.

Die-hard UFC fans might have noticed the beautiful blonde sitting cageside at virtually every event I’ve ever refereed. Elaine has been with me from the start, before I became a police officer or a world-traveling referee or anything else of any substance. She is the one person who truly knows me. She’s seen the good and bad in me and has stuck with me through all of life’s ups and downs, even when we didn’t have the money to buy food. She’s stood with me through it all, and she will forever be the love of my life.

I met Elaine by chance. While I was working at Samson’s Gym, a coworker named Mark helped me clean and organize at night to get the gym ready for the next day. One evening, he confided in me that he really liked this girl who worked across the street at Del Taco, but he was