From the far corner of the gym, the corner which most dread and avoid, thrives a man intent on making a real impact on bodybuilding. He knows what is needed to reach success, but unlike most he carries it out with iron determination. So he just walks the walk and does not desire to talk at moments such as these. Why? Because he is steeling his mind and body and channelling all his energies into his upcoming set of TORTURE squats. 

He is shortly to demonstrate why most fear this part of the gym. This 51 year old man is in his element. He moves slowly and purposefully with a remorseless glare in his eyes while he loads the bar with 4 plates a side, never taking his eyes off the weight. He next prepares himself under the bar, his lips are imperceptibly moving, and if we could only listen in, we would hear this matured bodybuilder talking coldly, commandingly to himself, to get on with the work in hand no matter how tough. 

He reinforces why he is doing this and why it is necessary to become a champion: only 4 weeks to go he says to himself, big legs, big legs come on, focus, focus, "DO IT" and "DO IT -OR ELSE!" and then, he unracks the huge weight and takes two steps back. After a deep breath he descends keeping his body very tight, his glutes squeezed like a vice ALL the way down until his butt grazes the floor then, explodes back up, easy he says.

After another breath, it's rep two which was just as smooth. With rep three the weight starts to feel heavier. His thighs are aching. Part of his mind tells him that that's enough to give in but the other part, his champion bodybuilder's mind, the part which is full of fire and true grit tells him to do 3 more and no less or else! And with that, he grinds out 2 good reps with the weight which is now feeling like it is crushing him. His body has had enough and his mind says STOP! 

BUT his soul wants it, it wants success so badly - it wants to win. It's the part that doesn't feel the gnawing pain and the waves of nausea but forces him on and makes him go for that last rep - PLUS. By this stage his mind is now in the bodybuilding dimension where only results count. It has shut down and his punished body is running on the power of his WILL and GUTS. PAIN, UNRELENTING PAIN IS ATTACKING IN WAVES. IGNORE - IGNORE! MUST GET BIG-MASSIVE-SHREDDED - MUST KILL IT!! The WILL to GROW takes over. Nothing else matters. 

With a huge yell of agony he just makes that possible last rep and then he drives past the impossible and does one more "Agghhhhhhhhh, No-NO please no!" BUT it’s the one which forces new growth and which will make him a champion. As he racks the bar even though his body and legs are in immense pain and close to collapse. 

Pumped. Swollen, dripping, red and raw, his mind is now happy, happy that he's done what was needed to be done and happy at the sheer sense of accomplishment that comes with it. This surely is the very essence of bodybuilding - personal accomplishment! 

Others may stare longingly at that freaky beef that looks as though its solid steel and all those dense sculpted bulging peaks and valleys of deep projecting muscle BUT I AM that muscle, it’s ALL me and every part of me is burning or numb and IT’S AN AWESOME FEELING AND I’ve only just started on my road to unreal! The person I am talking about is myself! 

I wanted to take you in to the mind of someone who has true passion for his sport. I wanted to share with you how I reached the stage of development that I have, but it’s only " the tip of a giant iceberg’, and the road will be long and incredibly tough, AND I’m ready for all of it. You too can accomplish amazing things if you build the right mind set, DRIVE YOURSELF OR BE DRIVEN TO THE EDGE.  

With under 4 weeks until I compete in my next contest as I write this, I now feel one step closer to my goal  I am not about to unleash on you some mega pumping workout routine or miracle supplement. Everyone is different in what works for them. You should and must keep an open mind as to what works best for you; this is all part of the exciting growth journey. The information is all out there, yet there are so many people who don't know the right way to train for themselves. 

This does not mean you should implement all the information and research you find but to analyze it with care, and have the common sense to know what is genuine and what is not. I follow my own principles which I believe to be the soundest I know. But I am always on the look out for further knowledge which might take me to the next level. 

I guarantee if I were to pick 10 pro bodybuilders and asked them what principles and routines they follow they would all have different opinions and methods of training and dieting. But the one thing they all have in common and all have in abundance is cast iron commitment, dedication, persistence WILLINGNESS and yes OBSESSION to take the pain and yet more pain to WIN - and true passion for their sport. This is what separates the men from the boys and the champions from the not so accomplished and wannabes.  

If you are committed to becoming the very best bodybuilder and person you can be, it's vital to create a strong mind-set from the beginning, that way your discipline stays with you when the "tough times come along" and what’s more, remain as a vital part of you for the rest of your life. 

When I started my journey in bodybuilding I created this mind-set straight away and also developed a steel-tunnel, warrior type mind-set for when I am in the gym. This does not of course mean I take out aggression on other people, but it undoubtedly means I channel all my physical and mental power into lifting those heavy punishing weights that FORCE me to grow.  

When it comes to setting personal goals, many limit themselves to the minimum they feel they can achieve. GET THE HARDEST, EVIL-EST PARTNER/COACH /MUSCLE MASTER AND GO FOR THE MAX - ALWAYS."  

Note: This is NOT without SUPPLEMENTATION. Just THINK what he could achieve with a ruthless MUSCLE MASTER driving him on through the blood, sweat, pump, screams and tears AND an even more aggressive program of roids and pump oils to force him under severe discipline and punishment to do MORE, MORE and almost EXPLODE THROUGH HIS SKIN. When the bodybuilder is remorcelessly treated like a MACHINE and FORCE- pushed beyond previous barriers OR severely punished for lack of 100% effort, there is ALWAYS MORE and that MORE means bulging, tortured, roasting muscle bursting-out of his skin growth. Nothing else matters!

THE POSEDOWN

We lined up to go onstage, the five superheavyweights waiting to strut their stuff. I could feel the charge in the air as the crowd waited anxiously to see us big boys. It's what most of them came for, to see some freakage, dudes who are pushing the envelope with their massive development. They were about to get their money's worth.

Ron motioned for me to go ahead of him, but I declined. "Age before beauty," I said to him. He laughed and said, "Very funny, smartass." Then he turned and strutted out onto the stage. I let the other three dudes go before me, too. I noticed that as Ron walked, his massive glutes forced his posers into his deep crack. I'd told him to use something to hold the posers in place, but he'd either forgotten, or did it on purpose. He'd come in so razor sharp that his exposed glutes were totally striated even when he wasn't flexing them. By the time he reached the far end of the stage, it looked like he was wearing a thong. Only when he turned to face forward did he reach back and pull the stretchy material over his big cheeks. By then, we were all on stage, and I could tell Ron had already gotten the crowd's attention. I could hear people going whoa, damn, jeezus, look at that guy! The three dudes between Ron and I had just gotten their first close look at Ron's back, and they were all looking a little freaked out. The massive hulking spread of Ron's shoulders was a good six inches wider on each side than any of theirs. And then there was me behind them, a good 70lbs bigger than they were. Ron and I outmuscled them so easily, it looked like they'd entered the wrong weightclass, especially standing there in between the two of us. And I was so jacked up on gear, I felt like I could wrestle all three of them down at once, no problem. Just the thought of it cocked up my muscle even more, making the suckers next to me look even more defeated. The judges called out compulsory poses for us to hit, and the crowd started to go wild. We'd only gotten as far as the side chest shot when the head judge called for #1 and #2 to step forward, and for the other men to step back. That didn't take long, I thought to myself, as Ron and I went to the front of the stage, and the three losers stepped back. Ron and I stood side by side in a relaxed pose. Relaxed, my ass. I was tensing every muscle I could, my arms jutting out to the side from the mindblowing pump I'd gotten backstage. Ron was taller than I was and about 40lbs bigger, but I was gonna take that trophy home with me. When our forearms smacked into each other, I tried to move mine in front of his, but he blocked me. Then I tried to push his out of the way. It didn't even budge. Might as well have tried to move a granite statue. I saw the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. The old man was going for it.

The head judge called for a double bi. I brought up my arms and crunched them hard as I could. I bounced my arms up and down a little, squeezing the balled up muscle even more. I could feel the burning heat of the muscle as I held the pose. But when I glanced down at the judges, they were all looking at Ron, then at each other, nodding and smiling. I heard the crowd hooting and hollering. I looked over and saw Ron, his arms locked into a double bi...and his peaks had swollen so high that he was able to feel them with his own hands, his 26" guns rising up more than halfway up his forearms. He had a huge grin on his face.

Then they called for a back lat spread. We turned our backs to the crowd, put our hands on our sides, and flared. I could feel my thick lat muscle stretching out, spreading like a cobra hood. But I could feel Ron's shadow next to me. His enormous presence. I could practically taste the alpha male smell of him as his deep pits opened up, spreading his back to the size of a stealth bomber. The huge old fucker was beast. Veins were popping out all over his back. The crowd roared as we compared back muscle. I flared mine out so hard I thought the lats might rip right out of their joints. I was starting to sweat like a pig. I looked over at Ron. The old fuck winked at me. Then he crunched down on his lats even harder. I swear I could hear his muscle spread wider, as his back swelled another couple inches on each side. The massive son of a bitch was kicking my ass.

We turned around to face the crowd, and before the judges could even call for another pose, Ron pulled in his stomach, creating a deep cavern beneath his huge chest. Then, putting his hands on his hips, he slowly forced out his abs, smirking as he flexed into his rope pose. His ab muscles were so thick and dense with fibers that it did look like a rope. But not any old rope...a real thick rope, like you'd see holding a huge ship to a dock. And he was so ripped up that his skin looked like rice paper, so thin and tight against the muscle. The crowd went nuts as he clamped down on the pose, showing off that thick column of granite that ran from his posers to his pecs. He turned from side to side, and people in the audience were actually gasping as he sucked in the sides even deeper. Even the judges were gaping at him, open-mouthed.

They went even more nuts when he pinched some skin and moved it up and down, showing the nearly 0% bodyfat he had on his abdomens. A woman in the front row fainted. Two of the judges looked like they were gonna jiz right in their pants.

That's when I did it. I don't know what made me do it, but I knew I had to. I knew Ron had the contest won. Not only was he the biggest, but also the most profoundly muscular man any of us had ever seen. I reached over and put my hand on his flexed ab column. The heat of it sent a jolt thru me. Ron looked at me, his lips curling into an evil grin. I rubbed the skin of his stomach and felt as it moved up and down against his granite abs. The muscle was like a giant cock in my hand, and I began to stroke it up and down. The billy club in Ron's posers began to swell, and he turned toward me. The entire crowd was on its feet. Dude's were jacking. I stroked Ron's ab wall harder, faster. Ron took my other hand and jammed it down his posers. I grabbed a handful of manhood. The posing oil on my hands made his skin feel like satin. I had two handfuls of muscle, one in his posers and one on his ab wall. I could feel each ridged section of his ponderous abs. They were like bricks. Hard and rippling. He crunched down on them, made them even harder.

"Pull out the beast," said Ron. I lifted his swelling dick out of his posers. It was thick and heavy, as solid as he was. It flopped right out of his trunks. He wrapped his big arms around me and pulled me against him. I stuck my face deep into his pec crevice and breathed him in. Who knew an old dude could smell so fucking good. He crushed me into a bearhug. I felt his hardon sliding on my oiled up roidgut as his pecs rolled up and down my face. He released me long enough to rip off my posers. I did the same to his, tossing  them down on the stage. He squatted down and put one huge shoulder against my gut. Then he stood up, lifting all 340lbs of me into the air. I could hear the crowd going ape shit, but they seemed far away, as they watched two buck naked muscleheads leave the stage.

"How about we go back to my place and destroy one room at a time?" said Ron.

"Works for me," I said. As we passed thru the backstage area, I reached out and grabbed the winner's trophy and took it with us.