I had been in California for about six months and was working and training at a gym that attracted competitive bodybuilders. During a conversation I told one of the guys that I would be a Mr. America in five years. I wasn’t just stroking my ego, I was speaking matter-of-factly. I knew in my heart it was true.
This guy started laughing so hard that I thought he was going to hurt himself. Then he started giving me a lecture about how that wasn’t possible. He thought that with some luck I could maybe place somewhere around fifth in my weight class. I decided at that point to keep my goals to myself and not expose them to small-minded people who couldn’t see beyond their noses. He was right about one thing. I didn’t win the Mr. America in five years. I won it in three. That, I learned, was the power of dreams and hard work.
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