“I’ve done some things in my life…things I’m not proud of.  A long time ago, I promised someone I love that I’d never go back to being that person.  But for you, I’m gonna make an exception.”  – Denzel Washington as Robert McCall, The Equalizer

Once upon a weekend, I worked security for an all-ages event at The Kool Haus.

Essentially a warehouse converted to a concert venue, the main room held elaborate scaffolding with wires and fixtures that powered the light show, scant furniture (shrink-wrapped in plastic, against spills and other projectiles), and a long bar that served only water and soft drinks.

Several DJ’s took the stage to entertain a crowd of 16-year-old’s.

Apart from the usual thoughts of “was I ever like them?”…not much was happening.

That’s until I noticed one kid in full mount on top of another, flailing away at him with punches.  The bottom one lay prone on a couch with his arms raised in defense, trying to prevent his face from getting jack-hammered.

I immediately jumped to the rescue.

I pulled the first guy off, tossing him aside, and checked with the other to see if he was ok.  Then I felt a sudden stinging sensation.  The aggressor, whom I’d casually dispatched, came back with a wild punch that landed on my ear!  I pivoted, a bit stunned.  As soon as I realized he’d hit me, I was, shall we say…a tad peeved.

I grabbed him, picked him up, and not-so-gently redirected his azz toward the exit.

To hear my security buddies tell it, I dangled junior in front me, feet off the ground, and shook him like a rag doll – for three hundred feet, until we reached the parking lot.

I don’t quite remember it that way, but this was at the height of my strength career.  And he weighed a buck fifty, if that. With my adrenaline going, I’m sure I could’ve made a relatively small human dance like a marionette on a string.

(Legal note: no teenagers were harmed in the making of this email.)

For the purpose of lifting heavy objects – and dealing with troublesome club patrons – I’ve found it useful to have an alter ego.

Mine’s The Giant Killer…my nickname when I did strongman.

The Giant Killer’s got the right sort of slightly-pissed-off determination to move things along when needed.  Even today, when faced with a difficult task (e.g. a training session I’d rather not do), I find I’m able to summon The Giant Killer to my aid in getting s**t done.

Look, some things are hard.

Ain’t no but’s about it.

Leaning on an alter ego is one way to beat the resistance you feel, by making yourself EQUAL to the job.

(The other is to chunk it down into smaller, more manageable bits.  That’s why my 16-week program works: it provides you a step-by-step process to achieving your fittest body.  Hit *reply* to request your personal training consultation, and find out if it’s for you.)

Think back to a time when you channeled some hutzpah, stood up for yourself, and felt powerful.

Who were you then?

Who’s the HULK to your Bruce Banner?

Give your superhero identity a name.

And next time you’re confronted with a challenge, don’t be afraid to let *the other guy* (or gal) take over.

You’re a nice person.

I get it.

But for this…you’ll make an exception…

Happy Alter-Egoing,

Conor Kelly

 

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