Many of you can recall the blizzard of 1993. At the time, I was in college and still developing in my sport. I was just beginning to compete in the open division and starting to run with the big boys, which was a challenge, to say the least.

Since powerlifting does not have a defined season, I made a habit of competing every three or four months to help keep my training on track and set new goals. Barring injury, I tended to follow this schedule regardless of trivial things like a record snowfall.

I lived with two other competitive lifters at the time, both of whom would also be participating in this event. One would ride with me, and one had gone to his parents and would meet us at the venue. Picture snow coming down non-stop and drifts as high as houses. Highways were shut down, and it was a miracle — or more likely insanity — that my friend and I made it to our hotel. My other roommate called to say he was stuck a town over but was trying to make it. So our job was to stall the officials as long as we could, though eventually we were told the meet could not wait any longer.

Never-the-less, many excellent lifters were able to make the competition. In attendance was Fred Glass. He wasn’t competing; however, he was actually just there to help spot the lifters. At first glance, you might wonder why this little, middle-aged man was anywhere near a powerlifting platform. At the time, Fred was 56 years old, around 5 foot 5 inches and weighed approximately 146 pounds. To those who recognized him, however, this was a very accomplished drug-free powerlifting champion.

Well, my roommate eventually made it to the competition but not in time to register, so his job then became to coach my other roommate and myself. This involved tracking how other lifters in our weight classes were doing, making sure we were warmed up and that our lifting gear was working properly. We had a few minutes, so the three of us decided to see what the competition was like.

A bit before I would begin warming up for my first attempt at the squat, (Powerlifting competitions are comprised of the total of the best of three attempts each in the squat, bench press, and deadlift), a 220-pound lifter had the bar loaded to 500 pounds in the squat. A respectable opening lift. I am not sure if he was distracted by the weather, was unprepared, or simply slipped, but he caught the two young spotters on the ends of the bar completely by surprise by falling backward. Weight and all. This type of fall could have easily been catastrophic for both spotters and lifter.

The only person paying attention was the 146 pound, 56-year-old, master lifter. Fred caught the 220-pound lifter under the arms as well as the 500-pound barbell and held all 720 pounds by himself until a group of people could swarm the lift platform to help lift the weight back into the safety rack. Fred did not miss a beat. Like it was no big deal, he dusted himself off and prepared to spot the next lifter.

A feat of strength of that magnitude by such an unassuming man is a rare sight and one that I have not forgotten in all of this time. It serves as an inspiration that humans are capable of amazing things and that displays of excellence whether they be athletic, musical, academic, or anything else lifts us all up and make this world a better place — if only for a brief moment.
Now 82 years old, and world champion more than 20 times over, Glass still inspires. So, before you decide that life’s aches and pains will keep you from doing the things you love to do and you impose limitations upon yourself, think of Fred Glass and the way he lifted us all up for one brief moment. Only in Fred’s case, it was literal as well as metaphorical.