I was 12 or 13, about 5’3" and 240 pounds. Getting bored of martial arts and having my man boobs fall out of the Gi. I took a break and went with a red headed Air Force kid and another sloppy fat Embassy kid to the weight rooms on base. Air Force kid lifted weights with fingerless nomex flight gloves, yay for dorks.
I did that for a couple of weeks, using machines, and noticed I’d dropped about 2 pounds a week when I wasn’t really trying. Started having cravings for meat instead of oreos. After a couple of months, the other kids stopped, I’d dropped close to 60 pounds, and I just kept going. Learned what it felt like to trap myself under 135 pounds on the flat bench in an empty weight room then, too. I think what was key was the subconcious discipline I had waiting to come out: my form was always very strict, which helped me out later.
I was also never one of the squat rack curl people. Having enlisted guys that were truly gruff, tough, and not full of any shit to “learn” from helped, too.
Didn’t have any neck or real beef then, or for a while. It took a bunch of pushups through ROTC, teaming up with a two future SF’ers to work out, and the eight week vacation planned by the green machine to kick off that set of changes.
Now it’s just normal, and I feel funny if I don’t.