Thanks to Dad, wake-up calls were at six o’clock every morning. Not by a loving tap on the shoulder or even the sound of a radio alarm. No, I was awakened each morning by the repetitious pile-driving sound of iron pounding on the concrete floor of our garage, situated next to my bedroom. It was like waking up twelve feet from a construction zone. He’d painted a huge “No pain, no gain” sign on the wall of the garage, which he stared at while doing countless old-school strongman dead lifts, power cleans, lunges, and squats. Rain, sleet, or shine, Dad was out there in his shorts and tattered
...more
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
