Date: Sun, 31 Mar 96
(Rick Silverman)
Subject: Bodybuilding first blood

This is a long post, meant predominantly for those of you who have been so
encouraging as I approached the world of "Competitive Bodybuilding" and for
those of you who are contemplating doing the same.  I've included excessive
detail, so that I could remember it, but I think you might find it amusing.  

It's the day after.  I'm just getting ready to go work out, if you can
believe it, but I thought I'd say something about my first experience as a
competitive bodybuilder.  First of all, I achieved my goal--I 
had fun and I learned alot.  On top of that, I did okay, too.

The day started the evening before. After one more trip to the tanning booth
and some posing, I ate and went to my girlfriends for the first application
of my "Jan Tana" tanning solution.  I wondered why I had bothered with the
tanning booth, as even the first coat left me a chocolate brown color.  Maybe
that was because I had done my work in the tanning booth...I went home,
afraid to touch anything, looking like a thug from the stuff on my face,
brushed my teeth, leaving a trickle of pale skin on my chest where the 
water ran off my chin, climbed into my dirty sheets, knowing that I couldn't
shower the next morning, and fell soundly to sleep.

I rose early Saturday morning to eat some oatmeal and egg whites, apply the
second coat, pack my food and head to Fall River for my lie detector test
and registration.  I put most of my second coat on myself, but I stopped at
my girlfriend's on the way so she could do my back.  I must have drooled a
little during the night, and I had to touch up my face a little.  This left
me with terrible splotches on my face, which were a remarkable source of
enjoyment for my friends over the course of the day.  I was terrified that I 
would be stopped by the police on my way to Fall River.

I rehearsed my posing routine during the drive going over and over it in my
head.  I tried to sort out the timing of the last little segment, which I
didn't have perfectly synchronized.  I never did quite get it, 
even on stage that night, but it didn't matter, except to me.  

I found the Auditorium in Fall River by following other orange and brown men
into a building.  They all looked a little drawn in the face--something that
had happened to me in the past week as well, though I had only lost about
ten pounds in my diet phase (I never looked at a scale in the past two weeks,
but I had someone else look for me so I know that's what I lost.)  Most
looked brown.  Many looked confused, as I did, and some looked like seasoned
veterans.  My girlfriend (my trainer for the day) was coming later, so I
didn't really have anyone to tell me what was happening.  I said hello at
the registration table and got directed to the lie detector test, which I
passed.  (I don't think I've stolen anything of value in the last 
ten years from someone who trusted me, but I wasn't certain...oh, well...)

I walked into the auditorium, where I saw all of the trophies lined up.  I
wondered what people do with these things--they are huge!!  I had heard that
one guy that I might meet in competition that day competes every weekend,
sometimes twice in a weekend, and he wins all the time.  I wondered if he had 
a separate house for his trophies.  I was thinking that I wouldn't have room
in my little two seater car if I won my class.  Not to worry....

Fortunately, a familiar face appeared--a guy I new from a gym I used to work
out at.  Chuck was the trainer for a competitor in the men's medium height
class.  I hadn't seen him in at least two years, and he didn't recognize my
darkened face.  I also saw another guy, Phil, who was judging--and whom I met 
off the list!!  Actually nobody recognized me until I spoke.  That stuff
really made me dark!!  Running into Chuck and Phil helped the time pass until
the meeting, where we were informed about how things would work.  

I had been put into the Masters Tall (over 6 feet) Class.  It turned out that
this was perhaps the toughest class of the contest for the top positions--lucky
me!  Checking out the competition, though there were six of us in the class,
there were only two other guys that I would be competing against.  The other
three guys were not as muscular or defined, or didn't have as good a shape.
My opinion, of course.  The two guys that were muscular, defined, and had a
good shape were formidable.  One was older--the guy, as it turned out, who
competed every weekend and always won.  His upper body showed exceptional 
muscularity and density--big arms, big chest, big back, great abs...vascular...
and he knew what he was doing, obviously.  His legs were good, but not as good
as his upper body.  The second guy looked like he couldn't have been over 35,
but I guess he was.  His physique was, in my humble opinion, exceptional.  No 
waist, big round muscle bellies, beautifully symmetric.  He was a little taller
than me.  Both men were black, though with my "Jan Tana", I was darker than
the younger guy!  In my mind, they had a significant advantage in that they
didn't have to fuss with this tanning ordeal.  I was informed eventually that
they had taken 1st and 2nd the week before in Connecticut, with Charlie, the
older guy winning the overall and the best poser as well.  Lonnie (I think),
the younger guy, had been competing four years, but had never taken even a
second.  He said he'd made some major dietary changes.  I couldn't imagine
that diet could have effected his body that much, but who knows?  Oh well,
I thought--it's my first contest!

My girlfriend, Terry, arrived and it was time to pump up and oil up.  I drank
a Critical Mass and a glass of red wine over the course of the half hour
before I went out.  Not sure if either had any effect, but I wasn't hungry
and I felt a little warmer, perhaps more vascular. This pumping up thing had
me a little confused.  I didn't want to over-pump up, I didn't want to be
tired, Jay Cutler had told me to stretch more than pump--Would I remember
how to hit the poses properly?--Would my hands slip off of my oily sides on a
lat spread?--Oooh, posing with oil was easier in that my thighs and pecs no
longer got "stuck" when I hit the poses---"MASTER'S TALL CLASS"--I said a
little prayer.

The prejudging round was exhausting in a way.  I felt like I was shaking the
whole time.  Fortunately, as we hit our relaxed positions and did the quarter
turns followed by the mandatories, friends--and strangers, even--yelled to me
from the audience.  "#12 (my number)--nice chest--#12, great back--#12, you
came in shape--#12, tighten those legs--nice!!--#12, you're the hardest one up 
there--"  My favorite came from an extremely supportive stranger who, upon
hitting my rear lat spread hollered to me, "Take off!!!"  I felt good about
it, and my exhaustion was replaced by exhilaration as we left the stage.
Pheww--no major screw ups yet.

I watched the men's open divisions, and I guessed at the winners.  There was
one guy who would have beat me in the men's open tall class, without question--
but I'd have been competitive with any of the others.  I wondered if I should
have switched classes...

After prejudging, there was a three hour break.  I had made curried couscous
with chicken--apparently not what everyone else had chosen to eat--which I
ate cold.  It was tasty, hardly any salt, so low sodium, because I thought
that probably mattered, and I didn't stuff myself by any means.  I also ate a 
banana and some peanut butter a little later, and drank another Critical Mass
and another glass of wine before the evening routine.  Since I've sort of done
my own diet, I've been curious to observe the response my body has to certain
things, but I've been impressed with how little it changes with various dietary
changes. Of course, that's more how it feels, rather than how it looks, and I'm
not yet able to sense that well.

Anyway, back to business, after a nap in my car and a leak behind a rock (they
locked us out of the building!!) we met to be informed about how the evening
would work.  I was more nervous about my routine, because I knew that friends
had driven all that way to see me for 90 seconds.  I didn't want to disappoint
them.  Beyond that, I wasn't really sure what I should expect.  Oiled and
pumped, "MASTER'S TALL CLASS" was called out again.  We did a 60 second
pose-down to get the audience psyched and then came off stage.  #11 went
first, and I stretched during his routine, watching intermittently.  He
finished in what seemed like 4 seconds rather than 90.  I handed the woman
my tape and went to the stage where I took my position with my back to the
audience.  I stood with my back and my thighs tight, arms folded in, head
down.  My music started with a deep laugh, some noise, and then a robotic
sound of joints bending.  I stretched my arms to my sides, one at a time
in syncrony, one--two--three to a rear double biceps, then spun around to
a hands on hip most-muscular pose as the voice on my tape said "WELCOME".  
The music picked up, and I felt that the audience was really with me, for
some reason.  My routine was very carefully choreographed and went well with
the music, rather than just being a collection of poses.  My moves were
right on the beats, and I tried to make the transitions smooth, then explode
into the next position.  Toward the end of the routine, the music starts "ooh,
aah, ooh, ooh, aah...." and I did this bizarre abdominal roll ending with a
hands over head abdominal pose.  Everyone was hollering at that point, and
they didn't care that the timing I had worried about on the drive down that
morning was not perfect.  I ended with the taped bomb blast on a crab
most-muscular, a pose I could never really take seriously, but which they
loved.  Apparently, I ran off stage faster than I should have, but I'll know
to hold the pose a little longer next time.

The tough competitors followed me, and both posed brilliantly.  I wondered
if they'd be at every contest I ever went to.  Maybe I could get shorter,
or something....

I watched the rest of the competitors and found some of the routines
outstanding and many a collection of unconnected poses, off the beat,
lacking in imagination or structure.  I was thankful for the friends who 
had coached me so diligently--Jimmie, Terry, Jay.

Award time followed a brief intermission.  I didn't know what to expect,
but as we were informed of the finalists, they also announced "Best Poser".
To my surprise--and excitement--I won best poser in my class.  I couldn't
believe it, but I wasn't going to question anyone about it.  When our turn
came to receive our awards, I went out first to receive  my "Best Poser"
trophy.  I hit my rolling abdominal shot, but started with my abdomen
protruding like I had swallowed a melon--something I've been able to do
since I was a child.  The crowd went wild--again!  I think I like this
bodybuilding stuff!!  As for the class awards, the young guy, Lonnie, took
the class and the masters overall.  Charlie, the weekly winner, took 
second, and I got a happy third.  Not bad for the first time!!

Of course, afterwards, I called my parents, who were excited for me.  As I
analyzed what I would have to do to beat these guys, explaining that I would
really need to put on more size, my mother interrupted--"What do you mean??"
I explained that next year..."Next year!!!!!---"

"Don't worry mom, it's only a phase."

So anyway, what do you do with these enormous trophies????

Rick Silverman, M.D.
Division of Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery
University of Massachusetts Medical Center
Worcester, MA  10655
rsilver@umassmed.ummed.edu

"The first duty in life is to assume a pose.  What the second is, no one has
yet discovered."  --Oscar Wilde

------------------------------
[Comments from one of the judges at Rick's competition. First Rick
responds to a post asking what is the bodybuilder look.]

> RE:  Bodybuilder look...What, exactly is the bodybuilder look.  I'm a
> bodybuilder, but I don't have what people would call "the look".
>  Most of the guys
> at my contest yesterday looked very normal and "fit" with their clothes on.
> But there was lots of muscle, to be sure.

As a judge at Rick's contest, I can attest that Rick looks perfectly
"normal" in street clothes, but has a very muscular physique -- he did a
fantastic job at the show, by the way, and the Best Poser award was
well-deserved.  It is also true of most all other natural bodybuilders
that clothes disguise the bb-look that they generally only sport around
the time of contests; the rest of the time, they are just "fit", or even
kinda "beefy" guys.
I really think there needs to be some education that the Bodybuilder Look
is born of steroids and attitude, not weight-training.

Phil Robakiewicz, Ph.D.
Biology Department
Worcester Polytechnic Institute
-----------------------------------------------------------------

FIRST BLOOD PART TWO--THE SECOND COMPETITION

Date: Mon, 15 Apr 96
From: Rick Silverman
Subject: Bodybuilding Second Chance:  The Malaysian Connection

I never had much luck at winning in athletics.  It all stemmed from my
little league coach when I was about 7 years old.  Never could throw a
ball--still can't.  But this bodybuilding stuff seems to be a little 
different.  I won't go on quite as long as my last post, but a few highlights.

The "Pioneer Valley Natural" ANBC contest yesterday was not as well attended
as hoped for, but there were a couple of veterans with a rich history of
success, along with a few newcomers like myself.  There were a few newcomers
who were like I had been two weeks ago--a touch green around the gills, 
wondering the whole time what was next.  Women were better represented this
time--six competitors, but I could see that for some it was still early in
the season.   As for my plans--diet and hydration status--I was right on.
My striations now had striations, and I had to keep applying lip balm to
keep my lips moist.  

The night before this contest was different from the first one--I had house
guests from Ecuador--a doctor, his wife and daughter, my hosts in Ecuador--and
we were having a party for them--at my house!!  It was supposed to end at 8:00,
which I knew it wouldn't.  When everyone finally left a little after 10:00,
taking my guests out on the town, at my request, I was able to start the
"tanning" process.  All of this went a little quicker this time.  I didn't
apply the solution to my face until morning, so my color was less frightening,
and I had fewer splotches.  My guests were back and up in the morning, and 
they were awed by my transition.  I had forewarned them, and they were rather
fascinated by the whole process.  I have no doubt that I'll never hear the
end of it when I'm in Ecuador in two weeks.

The trip to Amherst, the registration, the pre-contest meeting were uneventful,
except that we were told that we could cross over into the Men's Open, since
there were fewer competitors than hoped for.  This resulted in four competitors
in the Masters, and five competitors in the Men's Open Tall class.  I had 
determined that I hadn't pumped up enough last time, so I tried to be a
little more aggressive with my pump up this time.  It was warmer in the
pump up room, and my vascularity came out a lot better.  It was very hot
on stage, but again, I think that except for sweating, that may have been
somewhat advantageous to keep the pump going.  It seemed like minutes
between posing for the Master's and the Men's Tall.  It all went quickly,
but I felt like I could pay attention better this time.  I was really glad I 
had done the previous contest, just so I had a sense of what was going on.
Though the crowd was smaller, a familiar voice shouted to me at the beginning
of the first round of poses--"Alright, #12 (my number again!)--you did your
homework!!  Great shape, man!"--It was the stranger from Fall River, who 
had made me feel so much better two weeks ago.  The poses suddenly became
that much easier...

Jimmy, my "coach", had driven out with Nancy, a friend from Worcester who
was judging, and the three of us went for some lunch after pre-judging,
leaving my strategically prepared chicken and couscous in my car.  This, I
think, was perhaps a defining moment in bodybuilding history.  We went to a
Malaysian restaurant, Rasa Sayang, where I had the "Hot Pepper Chicken" in
all of its sodium and spice laden glory.  I didn't have it dissected or
modified--I ate it the way it appeared on the plate.  I confess, though,
that I only ate half of it, because I didn't want to be bloated when it came
time for my abdominal roll during my routine.  The remainder I had packed for
lunch the next day.  I did, however, eat the complimentary tapioca dessert--my
first dessert in about eight weeks.

In the end, I was not hurt in any way by the decision to eat this lunch--In
fact perhaps it helped me.  It seemed that after lunch, I looked even harder
than during pre-judging--and certainly more vascular.  Perhaps the extra
sodium load in combination with the hot spices....Who knows?!!  The routine
went off like clockwork--including the brief segment toward the end, the
timing of which had caused me so much difficulty before.  Again, the abdominal
roll was the signature move that got the crowd roaring.  I managed to hold the
crab most-muscular long enough this time, and then I headed back stage to
watch the remaining competitors.

After the intermission, we were reassembled for awards.  I was informed again
of having won "Best Poser" in the Masters, and the remaining results were
somewhat overwhelming.  Because of the cross-over, I found myself with more
than a handful of trophies, including an "Overall" trophy which can double
as an entertainment center, and more importantly, qualification for the
Nationals in either Masters' or Men's divisions.

My objective between now and November, other than to put on some size, is
to find a good Malaysian restaurant in Boston.  Hmmmm...

Rick Silverman, M.D.
University of Massachusetts Medical Center
rsilver@umassmed.ummed.edu
------------------------------------------ 
FIRST BLOOD PART THREE--THE THIRD CONTEST

From:Rick Silverman, M.D
rsilver@umassmed.ummed.edu 


Allright, so I lied.  So sue me.  I had promised to disappear for a little
while, but after catching the competitive bug, I was easily prodded by my
"advisors" to consider entering the NPC New England Championship on Sunday,
April 21.  Why, you ask yourself, would a "natural", nutritional supplement 
enhanced (per previous posts) bodybuilder expose him or herself to the murky
waters of an untested competition.  Let me tell you--It was worth the potential
disappointment, the potential embarassment--it was even worth the entry fee.
I confess, I had to trust my friends that I wouldn't look like a "dork" 
standing next to a bunch of huge "freaks" on stage.  I was reassured that I
would at least be presenting the same symmetric, complete package that I had
presented in my two previous competitions, aided by well-instructed and
thouroughly practiced posing.  What the hell....I took the bait and decided
to go for it.

Of course, I had bagged the diet for a couple of days before I decided to do
it.  So that meant another adventure in carb depletion last Wednesday.  I
wasn't as well-prepared for that this time, so I didn't have my food support
system on standby--I resorted to a little peanut butter here and there to get
me through the day.  Thursday, I looked a little soft (as one would expect),
not quite as cut up, and I was questioning entry.  By Saturday, though, I
looked fuller and harder than the week before.  I was still holding onto my
size, but showing even more cuts which had previously not been there.

Now, because I hadn't planned to do this particular competition, I hadn't
made any provisions in my call schedule, and I was on call that Saturday.
The day was reasonably quiet, and I was happy to have the time to catch up
on paperwork and a little relaxation.  I applied my tanning solution to
everything but my arms--just in case I had to operate--but finally, as
things remained uneventful, I even put the stuff on my arms around midnight,
just before going to bed.  

RRRRRRRRRRing--2:30 am.  It was the orthopedic surgery resident--they were
covering hands tonight, but plastic surgery always covers finger reattachments.
 He was evaluating a thumb amputation in the emergency room, and the thumb,
though still partly attached, would need to have the artery and nerves 
repaired.  I couldn't believe what was happening--but as usual, I just got
up, washed the color off of my arms, and drove to the hospital, where I spent
the rest of the night reattaching the thumb.  Actually, it only took about
3 hours, a little quicker than usual.  When 7:00 am rolled around, I
questioned my sanity as I rushed home to apply a second coat of color, pack
some food, and drive to Boston.

Because I hadn't registered, I had to be there at 10:00.  Of course, I got
there and nothing happened for about 45 minutes.  When I finally registered,
I weighed myself with clothes to mark on the form--and only weighed 191.
One of my friends had warned me that the scale might be light--don't get
worried.  I figured that I might have lost some water having been up all
night.  My body tends to do that.  It didn't really matter at that point
anyway--nothing was going to change.  When we finally weighed in for real 
about an hour later, wearing only posing trunks, I was a whopping 186 lbs.
I hadn't registered that low a weight in two years, and had I not been
forewarned, I might have really felt depressed.  I don't think I could
possibly have lost 19 pounds for this contest--I didn't have 19 pounds to
lose.  For what it's worth, though, I was ripped!

I wandered around a little.  I was afraid to sit for too long, because I
knew I would fall asleep, and I wasn't sure that someone would wake me up.
Gradually, the other athletes assembled, and a fellow I knew from the gym
was there.  I sat with him and his girlfriend, waiting for the weigh-in.
Now that's something different.  I had never been to a weight-class
competition, so I wasn't sure what to expect.  As everyone went up to the
stage to disrobe, get weighed, and dress up again, I recollected earlier 
recommendations that you want to keep things covered--hide the goods,
basically--perhaps so that no one sees what you look like when you're
truly "relaxed".  When my turn came, I stood there in my posing trunks,
considering leaving my socks on, since they didn't weigh anything, and I
knew that I was in the middle of the weight class anyway.  But everyone
else (including the heavyweights, who were assembling behind us) was taking
off their socks--so I took mine off too.  After all,I didn't want to look 
like a "dork".

After the weigh-in, there was the meeting for orientation, remarkably similar
to the previous ones I had attended.  I looked at the other competitors, and
except for the heavyweights and a few guys in the top of each weight class,
most of the competitors still looked "normal" wearing clothes (referring
back to the "bodybuilder look").  The heavyweights couldn't hide, nor would
they have wanted to hide their hard-earned mass.

I was able to watch the teens and the women do their mandatories.  The teens
were big guys, and I reflected on myself as a teenager--skinny, physically
shy, though artistically and intellectually more aggressive, and generally
most comfortable in bulky sweaters and sweatshirts than in tank tops or 
shirtless.  I would never have been caught dead or alive on a stage in these
skimpy posing trunks, nor would anyone have encouraged me to do that.  I had
survived that part of my life, pocketed the experiences, obtained my
education--and at a rather late point discovered that I could actually attend
to my body without ignoring all the other matters of importance that seemed
to rule my first 30-some years.  All this from a bodybuilding
contest??--Fortunately for me, the women came out before I had a 
transcendental experience or started to levitate.

The women were impressive, relative to the women I had seen previously.
Their physiques were significantly more developed, and their posing, for
the most part, was much better.  Three of the six exhibited exceptional
elegance in posing, and even the other two were damn good.  I, unlike many
men, don't find women bodybuilders physiques "disgusting" (though I've never
seen any of the "big girls" up close in their posing suits).  I like a woman
with some muscle, and these women carried it off pretty well.

I watched the men get started, but then headed backstage.  The area for
pumping up was compact, but warm.  I liked the warmth, because it allowed
for my vascularity to come out, as it had in Amherst.  Looking around,
though, my vascularity, generally pretty generous, paled in comparison to
some of these other guys.   The aroma of "Hot Stuff" emanated from
every-which-way, but there may have been other ingredients contributing to
the remarkable patterns evidenced throughout each class.  

After helping my friend get ready for the middleweight class, I started my
pump up, remembering that my first experience was marked by an inadequate
pump.  The atmosphere was not unpleasant, but it seemed a little less relaxed
than the previous contests.  I realized that most of these guys had higher 
expectations than I did.  While I was looking at the other tall, thin
guy--obviously natural, I assumed--thinking, I can beat him at least, these
guys were trying to figure out how they would win a first place.  It was
especially interesting as the heavyweights began to gather.  Many of these
guys knew one another.  I didn't know anyone at this point, but I asked a
woman who was helping another of the light-heavyweights to rub some oil on
my back.  I had noticed that the lighting favored a lighter sheen from the
oil.  I felt like I was getting reasonably pumped, and I looked hard--but
the guys who stood a few inches shorter than me with a few pounds up on me
looked formidably competitive.  I wondered to myself if anyone else had been
up all night reattaching a thumb.

We headed out as a class.  I was #30 this time, and I missed #12.  Mark, the
guy who cheered me on in Fall River and Amherst, was there helping out the
guy who ended up winning the Teen Class, who was also competing in my class.
Obviously, though he complimented me on how I looked, he was cheering on 
his man during the quarter turns and the mandatories.  I understood, of
course.  Between the quarter turns and the mandatories, there was a 60
second posing routine without music.  I had modified my routine, taking out
some of the "glitz", and hitting all of the madatory poses.  It seemed to
go well, and I felt reasonably comfortable.  I hoped that they couldn't see
how skinny I had gotten.  Certainly, though, when we were all standing there
together, I felt like they knew that my appearance was the result of "Proper
Posing" rather than sheer bulk.  I held the mandatories with resolve--for
longer a period than I had experienced in the previous two contests.  On my
side triceps, I couldn't keep my "vacuum" for the whole period the first time.
I tried not to pant as I took shallow breaths, waiting for the "relax" signal.
I knew, at least, that I could survive the long holds, since I practiced that
way--but I confess, this was even longer than I was accustomed to.   I was
thankful for my friends--and one of my patients who happened to be at the
prejudging round--for keeping me tight with the standard calls which were 
gradually gaining in familiarity:  "Bring your arms out", "Tighten your
legs", "Lookin' hard, man"....all prefaced by a #30 or my name--or "Doc"!  

We were herded off the stage and replaced by the Heavyweights.  I watched
in amazement, observing how some could demonstrate their wares so much better
than others.  I thought one of the guys was going to blow a gasket with his
breathing style during his 60 second routine.  These guys were heavily 
invested in the endeavor--physically, mentally, and most certainly financially.
I looked for evidence of gynecomastia.  I wondered if it was possible to
reach those proportions with good food and exercise alone--I doubted it.

When Prejudging was over, some of my friends and I walked to Newbury Street.
I had decided that the meal of the day was going to be sushi, and though I
misjudged the distance of the Japanese restaurant that I knew was on Newbury
Street, i did manage to achieve my goal.  Once again, a little extra sodium 
load in the miso soup and soy sauce, a touch of the hot and spicy in the
wasabi, and I was ready for the evening show.  Only one thing was missing at
this point--about five or six hours of sleep.  But I couldn't sleep--too
much action.

I returned to the auditorium to find a crowd gathering.  It was 4:45, and the
evening show was to start around 5:00.  Jay Cutler, his girlfriend, Carrie,
and his sister, Kelly, were sitting at a table with Nasser El-Sonbaty selling
photos and signing autographs.  Now, you realize that Jay at 5'9", 270 (off 
season weight) is probably the biggest bodybuilder I've ever seen up close.
Nasser was weighing in around 325 for the day--we're talking HUGE.  I've
taken care of patients who were bigger than that, but they were just big and
fat.  Pretty remarkable--though I prefer the "smaller" guys like Flex Wheeler, 
Shawn Ray, Lee Labrada, Charles Clairemont...get my drift?  Nonetheless, the
guy is that big--and pleasant as well.

The competitors were once again assembled, and Mike Katz, who was the M.C.
introduced himself and proceeded to orient us to how the evening would go.
(If you begin to sense that I've been spending the day in the presence of
"giants"--at least "giants" in the bodybuilding world, you're right.  Of
course, no one that I work with or associate with outside of the gym had a
clue who any of these people are.)  As competitor #30, I was able to watch
the first 20 competitors.  Some awesome routines.  The quality of posing
among the women was, for the most part, much better than I had seen, and
many of the men were also more practiced and polished.  My routine was very
good--but there were routines here that were "great". This was in no way
discouraging to me--It was my first season, my third show, I'd been up all 
night, and I was learning and growing with each pose.  The day confirmed the
fact that you have to put yourself out there to make gains--"No guts, no glory!"

After my routine, I wiped my oil off and went out to watch the remaining
competitors.  I was very curious to see what the heavyweights looked like
with their routines.  Again, there were a variety of approaches--from the
random hit-the-pose-off-the-beat routine to the polished, choreographed "Shawn 
Ray--watch out, I'm coming to get you" routines.  I guess the one guy (who
ended up winning the whole deal) does a little "dancing" on the side (or
maybe for a living, for all I know).  His routine was great.

During the intermission, I was just hanging out with Jay and Carrie, while
he was getting ready to guest pose.  I lent him my surgical tubing to do some
stretching and warming up, and one of the middle weights remarked that he
was going out to buy himself some--if that's how big you can get using it.
I told him that it was mine, and that I used to be as big as Jay until I
started to use it:)  He seemed to be amused.  I wandered into Mike Katz and
introduced myself.  I mentioned that I had been up all night reattaching a 
thumb, and he found that interesting.  I looked at the list of "finalists"
and saw that I had at least beat the other "natural" guy (again, I'm making
an assumption which anyone who was there would also have 
made...)  So I was going to have another trophy.  Cool.

I watched Jay do his routine--his girlfriend was more nervous than he was,
I think.  He was impressively huge, though certainly not in contest shape.
The crowd responded to his rear lat spread with appropriate awe.  He's a big
guy.  When he finished, he seemed relieved. That was the first time I'd 
seen him pose, except when he guest posed for me at my lecture and when he
helped me getting ready.  He did a good job, and the crowd was really into
it.  The next time I turned around, he was dressed again, hanging out
backstage to watch the awards--and give the overall.

Once again, the competitors warmed up a little, oiled up, and started out
to collect their bounty.  There were pose downs and the women's overall and
then the men.  Before Mike introduced the light-heavyweights, he told the
audience how I had spent my night "preparing" for the contest.  I suppose 
that if anyone had found me asleep in the auditorium after that, they would
have at least been tolerant or sympathetic.  Even in this audience,
confirmation of bodybuilders as not just a bunch of dumb muscle heads could
be made.  Anyway, he called us out, and I could hear some of my friends
shouting to me.  After a brief pose down, the awards were given.  I took
fifth, confirming that "size counts".    I was happy to still be in the
running at all, and I suspected that in a contest where many of the competitors
have had some chemical enhancement, thicker muscularity is accepted more as the
norm.  My friends had placed me third, and I had thought perhaps fourth--the
teenager who had crossed over looked good among the teenagers (and won there),
but I didn't think his cuts were as sharp or his shape as aesthetic.  No 
question, though--he was bigger.

And speaking of bigger, the heavyweights received their awards, and one of
the guys seemed angry at the result.  I guess when you have invested what
they have invested....The overall result was as I would 
have predicted--the heavyweight with the great routine won.  

Next, Nasser did his routine.  I'm amazed he can even walk, as big as he is.
But he actually moved pretty well.  He did his thing and was finished, but
Mike made him go back out and down into the audience.  I don't think he was
psyched, but he did it.  When he came back he was laughing and shaking his
head.  I was standing with Jay, and I had my picture taken with the two of
them, and then with Mike Katz.  A little history....

I gathered my bag and met up with Jay and Carrie in the back of the auditorium.
He had a large group of friends and family with him, and they were about as
hungry as I was.  My other friends headed back to Worcester, and our party of
18 went in search of food.  The end of the evening was as enlightening as 
the entire day had been.  Jay's nutritionist, Chris Aceto, and his wife,
Laura Creavalle sat opposite me at dinner--and confirmed for me that there
is nothing wrong with my turkey chili.  There was nothing wrong with the key
lime pie I had for desert either--or the several gallons of water and ginger
ale that I drank...After all of that, Carrie generously drove me back to
Worcester, otherwise I might still be sleeping in the Burger King parking
lot at the first rest area on the Mass Pike.

I appreciate the opportunity to share this with list subscribers.  You have
all been kind and supportive.  I would encourage anyone who is thinking of
competing to do it.  You don't have to win to have fun, but you can win and
still have a great time.  If you have people around you who can tell you
honestly how you are doing, that helps.  While I knew that my size couldn't
match most of the guys in this contest, I at least knew that I could put on
a respectable performance--and that was enough for me.  Mike Katz made a 
comment which was very relavant.  He reminded the audience--the
supporters--to be supportive.  But rather than placing blame on poor judging
or politics when trying to figure out why the guy you were cheering on didn't
win, look at the package your friend or family member presented.  And try to
support them in improving it.  My friends still told me they thought I
should have placed higher, but I had already looked at what I had to
present--And I already know that I have to get bigger.

So it's back to the gym...lots of food...more sleep, maybe...and some warm
New England weather.  I hope I'll be able to read about some other great
competitive experiences when I get back from Ecuador.   Good 
luck to anyone and everyone getting ready for competition.

Rick Silverman, M.D.
Division of Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery
University of Massachusetts Medical Center
Worcester, MA  01655
rsilver@umassmed.ummed.edu

P.S.  Thanks Rich Muller for making it possible for my mother to see me in
action.  My brother showed her the pictures at your web site.  Her response,
of course, "I don't like it--you're too muscular".  I tried to explain that
I still look normal if I'm not posing, but you know moms...