RH Training

RH…those are my dad’s initials. Back in the day before anyone had a cell phone, my family used to communicate with each other via handwritten notes left on the kitchen counter. My dad always signed his, “RH” in his caps lock handwriting that thousands of students over his 39 years of teaching strained to decipher from his classroom blackboard. Like many kids fortunate enough to grow up with a dad in the picture, I was sure that my dad was Superman himself. RH always stood out from the crowd, literally, because he was 6’7” tall and at 35 years old, the age I’m at now, weighed a lean 200 pounds. My dad was born in 1950, which means he grew up in the age of cardio fanaticism. He always told me about a friend he had in high school who was into lifting weights and that everyone thought it was weird. It turns out the guy was a monster at offensive tackle and went on to play the position in college. Jogging and cycling were all the rage in the 1980s, and my dad had a custom made Panasonic road bicycle. Some of my earliest memories are riding bikes with my dad during the summer and watching him train on this roller contraption that he had in the basement so he could ride through the endless Upper Peninsula of Michigan winters. We also watched the Tour de France all through the month of July and watched American Flyers about 100 times.

My dad would train in the basement and he had all kinds of workout equipment that were a sign of the times. This spring-loaded “chest expander” was great for pinching your skin and using as a mace-type weapon against a sibling or friend. RH had some plate loaded Gold’s Gym dumbbells that had threaded ends so the collars could be screwed on. You know the kind. I distinctly remember watching him workout with these dumbbells and his Body by Jake bench while watching Lee Haney’s television show TotaLee Fit. The Jake Steinfeld bench was this bench that had a big arm coming off the top of it for doing abs and these band things that you would affix to different pegs underneath to add resistance.

Body by Jake Bench

My dad used to also workout watching Tony Little on TV. If you don’t know who Tony Little is, look him up. He made a couple hundred million dollars as a personal trainer and TV personality. He sold gimmicky home gym equipment, but he at least got a lot of people off their asses and moving…well, for a while anyway.

Tony Little

The centerpiece of my dad’s basement training equipment setup was his Schwinn Airdyne. When he brought that thing home, I remember thinking that it was really silly. My friends and I would goof around with it because the fan blew a ton of air all over the room and we would see who could pedal the loudest. My dad used to ride that thing relentlessly, wearing a heart monitor and really pushing himself. RH ended up putting tens of thousands of miles on that bike, which is pretty impressive considering I’m pretty sure he did zero maintenance on the thing. I had no appreciation for what he was doing with that bike at the time, but, in the end, he got the last laugh. In 2017, 20+ years later, I bought an Assault bike, which is basically just a beefed up Airdyne. I use it regularly and it never fails to absolutely kick my ass. Father knows best, I guess.

RH is almost 70 now and his days of pushing himself physically seem to be over. Somewhere in his 50s, my dad quit taking care of himself and he put on a bunch of weight. It was partly the result of him working so hard to make money to support the family. I will forever be grateful for his work ethic and sense of duty to my mom, sisters, and me, but it was hard for me to watch. People will make time and have discipline when it comes to something that is important to them, but my dad’s health fell by the wayside during this time period. He had a heart stent put in around 2011 or 2012, and since then he’s been going to cardiac rehab twice a week, walking on the treadmill and socializing with the other patients. I am really happy that he at least does this, and he has a ball doing it, and yes, doing something is certainly better than nothing, but he could be doing more. I’ve been telling him for 15 years that he needs to do some kind of strength training but it goes in one ear and out the other. Last week my parents came out to visit and my dad tripped and fell when we were out walking my dog. He needed help getting up and said he usually has to use a chair. Not being able to get up from the floor without the aid of a chair or person is a problem. The next day I was doing Turkish get-ups with a kettlebell. I tried to show him what it was and how useful it was, but he didn’t seem to care or realize that I was trying to connect it to what had happened the day before. I should have been more blunt I guess, but it’s tough. All this may sound like I am poo-pooing his efforts, but I swear that is not my intention. I just want my dad to live as long and as healthily as possible, and I know that requires fighting to hold onto muscle and strength every day. I would love to see my dad go to a gym, a real gym, where people are lifting weights and not everybody in the place is a current or former recovering heart patient.

It’s also hard for me to understand how a person can not want to lift weights and be strong. I know what lifting does for me and all the sense of joy, satisfaction, pride, and euphoria it brings me every time I go in the weight room. Lifting makes me expect more of myself, and it frustrates me when I see loved ones expecting so little of themselves physically. My dad is the guy who taught me how to get into a three-point stance, be physical, box out for a rebound, ride a bike, walk faster than a person should, judge a man by his build and grip, and not be a Caspar Milquetoast. Maybe I’m being too hard on my dad, but damn is it sad seeing his strength go down the tubes without him putting up a fight.