The Shed
By: Jean-Paul Courville
“Human behavior flows from three main sources; desire, emotion, and knowledge”- Plato
Milestones and pivotal moments develop character; it shapes our identity, and highlights our path. My journey began in "The Shed", it sits behind my childhood home in the woods of Louisiana, a small wooden building with a dirt floor. The inside decor was comprised of free weights, weight benches, a heavy punching bag, a portable radio, a heater, a car light on an extension chord, and a plethora of different bars and dumbbells my father had made as a welder. The year was 1985 and I was a shy, overweight 13-year-old boy with long hair, filled with insecurities, I had a perm, my cheeks were round and rosie, blue eyes, with red pouty lips certifying my status as a walking target for jokes. I didn’t receive attention in school from girls and no one asked me to play on the school sports teams. In physical education class I was not even the last man picked for teams I was the last man left to stand as a human goal line or line judge for volleyball. This was surely not a recipe for being voted the most likely to succeed.
Just before entering the sixth grade my mother brought my younger sister and I to a local clothing store to take advantage of the back to school sales. To my horror the ladies at the counter asked my sister and I “Where are you girls going to school this year?” I was devastated; I went home and locked myself in my room. The problem was I didn’t know how to make a change. My father brought me to see two movies that year that would spark the answers for change in my life, Rambo First Blood Part 2 (May 1985) and Rocky IV (November 1985) starring Sylvester Stallone.
Rambo First Blood Part 2 was the follow up sequel to the 1982 film First Blood where most boys my age had seen on constant replay on HBO and Cinemax. The sequel was bombastic, he was isolated, spoke with action, he was athletic and physical. Following the profound impact of the movie I asked my father “If I started to lift weights from May through December how strong would I become by Christmas?” This is an absurd question but surely from a 13 year old who is miserable with his identity an honest and genuine one. My father owned a weight set, a bench, and was a fan of modern bodybuilding, he collected muscle and fitness, iron-man, and numerous others from the 1960s, 70s, and into the 80s, they were all in pristine condition. "If you are consistent then your progress will be on your terms" he told me.
“Dad, can you get me a membership to a gym?” I asked. “Boy, you change your mind every week, I am not spending my money on a one year membership for you to quit in a week. If you show me consistency using my equipment, I will set it up in the old shed and then I will consider a membership if you stick with it,” he responded. The shed was hot in the summer and cold in the winter, it flooded when it rained, it was lonely, muddy, there were abandoned wasp nest in the corners, the sounds of animals in the nearby woods were louder than the music I played. I made a long-term relationship with the shed. I trained for seven days a week for 90 days before the start of my freshman year. In the course of this time, I gave up drinking sodas, I read and studied the articles in my father’s magazines on training techniques and principles of Arnold Schwarzenegger, Frank Zane and Serge Nubret who were my favorite bodybuilders and Louisiana native Boyer Coe. I used barbells, dumbbells, I did chin-ups on the rusty rafters above, I hit the heavy punching bag every other evening, I used the leg extension machine connected to the bench, I tied two barbells together with a rope to make a T-bar row and wedged it in the corner of the shed. When the shed would flood, I put my fathers rubber boots on and tucked my warm up bottoms into the boots looking like a confused Louisiana duck hunter. The water would rise above my ankles as I slammed the weights into the water splashing and ultimately covering my entire body with mud. The end of summer was here and I was entering the ninth grade, in the town of Denham Springs, Louisiana where two junior high schools merged into one high school. This created an environment where the star athletes from both schools would now be competing for positions and popularity. Over that summer I lost 30 pounds, lost three inches from my waist, cut my hair short and got a tan. My summer kept me somewhat isolated, I trained and read magazines while listening to the radio.
Transformation
My first day at school it seemed as no one took notice to me. In the public school system the personal lockers were assigned by grade and in alphabetical order. I walked to my locker and noticed Jeff Corley, a schoolmate from South-side Junior High, he was a smaller boy, he played football and played well, he had the good looks, the feathered 1980’s hairstyle, and the girls always gathered around him. Today was no exception, a few of the girls whom I had crushes on were standing by his locker and blocking mine. I pretended as though I was searching for something in my beloved trapper-keeper to avoid any interactions. Jeff was mature beyond his years, he noticed me and extended his hand “Jeff Corley” he said then I replied “Jeff its Jean-Paul Courville”. The following day I told him how much I was bench-pressing, 185 pounds for reps, he wasn’t convinced and the conversation quickly turned to disbelief. Suddenly the entire freshman class was aware of my claim to achievement. Freshman football tryouts were advertised, sign up, show up, and participate for three days of maximum performance bench press, squats, and power-cleans where the coaching staff would annotate all data. This was the first step, followed onto the field two weeks later for football skills, team selections, then begin team practice. This was my opportunity to turn people away from the criticism and to recognize my hard work. I had one night to sleep, then a day of school and a bench press test. That evening I felt if I trained hard it would carry into the next day, I was pumped up but as I sat in my shed, I starred into the slim cracked mirror on the wall and something hit me; the weights I used weren’t the Olympic style weights used in the football program. I had only seen those in magazines, never had I lifted the standard barbell and the equipment I used was a mix of metal weight and the plastic weights filled with concrete. This was the first time I realized the power of a negative mind, psyching down and not up.
The moment had arrived, in the Denham Springs High School Field House, it was crowded with coaches and freshman waiting to begin the bench press results. It commenced in alphabetical order with two benches going simultaneous. If a freshman pressed the identified weight for one rep it was racked and two volunteers from the varsity team were adding five to ten pounds on the bar until the freshman fatigued. My nerves were through the roof, I had never competed in anything for a test result or score, all of my athletics up to this point I was either selected last or not at all. My last name was called; it was mispronounced with a failed attempt of my first name, which sent a few chuckles in the air as I walked to the bench. I had no confidence to correct an adult hence I could have been called a completely different name and not made any mention of it, my shyness was a handicap. When the coach asked me how much weight to place on the bar immediately someone in the group shouted “185, he can do 185!” They stacked 155 pounds on the bar, I was focused on the size of the weights and I could feel my palms beginning to sweat from nervousness. I pressed it with ease and racked the weight; I heard whispers in the group and the wonderful sound of ten-pound plates being slapped onto both sides of the bar to make it a 175-pound try. My confidence from that lift boosted immediately, I then pressed the next weight until I reached a 205 pound maximum bench press at 13 years of age. I held the highest by a long shot that day, no one was even close, and I was the talk of the remainder of the afternoon.
I learned my greatest lesson, what goes up must come down, facing adversity.
The following day at school something was different, people were pointing at me, girls were coming forward asking my name, guys were patting me on the back and even a football coach made a comment in our history class on what I had done. This was validation to my hard work over the summer, the hours, sweat, and a lack of a social life. But this lesson was to be turned upside down and I was to learn an even greater lesson, what goes up must come down. I hadn’t done squats , ever I only did leg extensions and I was confident that my legs are stronger than my arms and chest, no problem. If I bench-pressed 205 pounds then let me start with that, I placed the bar on my neck, I stepped back to maintain balance. I lowered into a squat but before I could level parallel to the ground I collapsed under the weight. I stood up embarrassed, I heard giggles in the audience and I felt my face get red. The coached dropped the weight to 185 pounds and I repeated the same failure again and again until I squatted only 135 pounds for one repetition. The praise I had the day before turned to mockery and punch lines. The coaches marked me from a potential linebacker to an offensive lineman with questionable next to my name on the public roster. The next few months were awful, my confidence fell to an all time low, I performed only what I was asked at football practice, I made the team and dressed for the games only to go in for a few plays when the win was in our grasp.
That moment came to me during the Christmas holiday break, the movie Rocky IV was released and my father took me to see it. I had seen the previous Rocky movies but they hadn’t caught my attention like this. Rocky trained in the elements, he ran, used weights, cut tree limbs, drug tires, sledgehammers, climbed mountains, and I had never witnessed (even to this day) a crowd in the theater stand up to cheer in a movie like this. I watched an interview where Stallone mentioned he was a shy skinny 13 year old, he went to the theater where the movie Hercules with Steve Reeves changed his life.
The hurt and anger of failure in front of so many began to turn into motivation. I trained harder, I used bodybuilding principles combined with unorthodox and unconventional methods by finishing a set of strict barbell shoulder presses then running out of the shed 50 feet into the rain where I had placed a large tree branch. I would pick up the branch press it over my head then in front of my chest parallel to the ground and throw it as far as I could, run to it, turn around, then repeat all the way back to shed. I couldn’t develop a squat rack to hold the weights so I would clean and press the weight I had, finish it with squats for reps, run a sprint to the same tree branch and place it on my neck, rep out squats to a walking lunge. I was determined with an even greater fire inside to be physically dominant, my youth and inexperience didn’t support the theory of multi-tasking so my grades in the 10th grade (sophomore year) suffered and I failed the school year. Another setback, I didn’t handle failure well, it seemed that every time I found success or a personal achievement I would stumble in failure greater than my successes launched me. I continued to play football but my shyness crippled my ability to perform in front of others so I was an introvert in public, socially inept and in private an extrovert. I didn’t materialize with team sports at all, I was fixated on bodybuilding, a selfish endeavor. I didn’t understand a team concept when our team won a game only the starters received the praise yet when we lost the entire team including those of us who didn’t play had to run extra sprints for punishment. I enrolled in speech classes where I found my identity, my shyness went away when given an improvisational speech, I gravitated to it and my teacher, Mrs. Keen gave me positive comments and encouragement.
The Foundation was set, time to build a structure.
I trained religiously in the Shed until I was 15 years old. I had been dedicated for well over 18 months never missing a day. Throughout those defining years I had some setbacks along with progress, two steps forward and sometimes three steps backwards. I maintained consistency with my passion for training, find my solitude, plan my future and ultimately follow those blueprints.
Recognizing my dedication over the years my father surprised me with a gym membership at Felix’s Health and Fitness Club, this was the second club owned by the same family. Felix and his brother Jessie (a professional bodybuilder) were 25 and 27 years of age, they were successful with their own gym and they immediately noticed my 15 year old shyness. This place was intimidating, mirrors everywhere, men and woman were working out together, people were waving at each other from across the gym, and loud screams to explode for one more repetition were common. I felt out of place, but Felix spoke with me and not at me, he was jovial, friendly, well built, great hair, and was well dressed. When I told him I was 15 years of age he flattered me with compliments, asked me if I wanted to pursue bodybuilding and encouraged me. I hadn’t received any accolades outside of my family from an adult like this, he was a likeable charismatic man, he would graciously give me tips and points to correct bad habits I developed especially how I trained my legs. I would leave school, go straight to the gym, train and learn from Felix. I wasn’t experienced in the world but I did learn there were many types of men, and I knew what type I wanted to be and didn’t want to be. The gym was like the popular watering hole in a wildlife documentary, there were the Zebra and Gazelle types barely placing their lips to the water and jumped out of fear from the sound of a weight dropping, the larger Elephants and Hippos who just from their presence alone kept others at a distance, then the Hyenas in packs, annoying group of men who collected all the weights around their weight bench and took advantage of the Zebra and Gazelle, the Crocodiles a few tough and intimating loners that trained hard, showed no emotion, and meant business, they came to eat not to socialize. Then there was Felix, the Lion, the ruler of the watering hole.
Felix allowed me to train after the gym closed at 10pm, we would turn the stereo so loud you couldn’t even have a conversation. I would complete my shift at the local Winn Dixie grocery store on a Friday night then did squats combined with super sets on a leg press competing with my 25-year-old mentor. He pushed me, taught me, and encouraged me. One day he offered me a job, I would close and open the gym on weekends around my job at the grocery store, clean weight benches, stack weights, workout during my shift and answer the phone. I accepted the job for no salary but bargained for a free membership, he graciously agreed. I would do homework in the office, train, talk to others, watch people workout and then I met Felix’s older brother Jessie. Jessie was a pro and people crowded to watch him train, he was gracious at sharing many tips, knowing of my age and passion about the sport he would motivate me. I told him the story of my squat failure, he responded by grabbing the current issue of Muscle and Fitness to show me a story with Mike Quinn training legs. “That motivates me to train legs, lets see what you got” he said to me, he literally escorted me to a squat rack and taught me.
Meeting Sylvester Stallone and sharing my story of inspiration 20 years later.
The lessons I learned through these minor successes and failures were defining moments, I consider myself a late bloomer in social endeavors if not for "The Shed" I may have never blossomed. It paved the way to my future success as a career U.S. Marine. I had a remarkable career exceeding all of my expectations. The uncertainty of completing a four-year enlistment turned into a 22-year satisfying lifestyle loaded with experiences including achieving my college degree, mentoring men in combat, traveling the world and becoming an aspiring author. My life was literally crafted and launched from the shed it was my foundation.
In December of 2005 I had a “connecting of the dots” moment. I had returned from my second tour in Iraq (2004) and was to depart again soon for my third tour when I stumbled across the opportunity to become an extra during scenes in the next Rocky Balboa movie. It was in Las Vegas, only a three-hour drive from where I was stationed and a full day on set. Witnessing Sly Stallone direct, act, and interact with hundreds if not thousands of extras was a dream come true. The fantasy of speaking with him one on one was just that, a fantasy, a dream, it wasn’t that type of situation, it wasn’t a meet and greet, it was a business, and logistics and production had a schedule to keep. In the midst of all of the developing moments I noticed Sly’s brother Frank Stallone walking in the crowd, unnoticed, he was an accomplished musician and actor but blended into the set observing and interacting with a few people. When he came near me I said hello, he stopped and responded, we held a 45-minute conversation speaking of the military, music, guns, and how much I knew of his career. He was so down to earth, appreciative, and taken back that I knew so much about him. I was careful not to be that “crazed” fan asking to meet his brother and I didn’t even mention it. Around 8:30 pm when production wrapped four hours after my conversation with Frank security directed all extras into one exit while the crew, actors, and producers congregated in a separate location. I looked over one last time to see Sly Stallone sitting in his directors chair, wearing his robe from set, a bloody eye, and literally was engaged in conversation with what I imagined the producers, cinematographers, and countless staff for the film.
In this moment a security guard noticed that I was drifting from the exit, he shouted “ you aren’t allowed in this area sir!”. I happened to see Frank Stallone sitting next to his brother, I yelled “Frank!” he heard me then looked in my direction. I waved and shouted, “Thanks for everything man!” He waved back then motioned me towards him, he shouts “Gunny (short for Gunnery Sergeant the rank I was at the time) come here!”
I was thrilled, it was like Moses parting the Red Sea in the Ten Commandments, the Security guards all moved out of my way and I walked up. Frank quickly interrupted Sly with a nudge of his shoulder, when Sly turned around Frank said to him “This is that Marine that just returned from Fallujah”. The moments that followed were priceless, they didn’t play in slow motion, they played in real time and I was proud of how I reacted because at this point in my life I wasn’t shy any longer, the lessons from the shed and now as a Marine were my foundation, I knew I had an obligation and desire to tell him what I wanted to over the past 20 years. Sylvester Stallone smiled, he extended his hand and said, “I appreciate what you do, thank you and pleased to meet you”. This was December 2005 literally 20 years to the day of when Rocky IV changed my methods of training and attitude so I responded “Sly, its an honor, I am successful as a Marine because you turned this shy overweight 13 year old into what I am today much like Steve Reeves and Edgar Allan Poe effected you.” I had his attention, “It’s the way you carry yourself in interviews, you speak of failure and success, your approach to a new project, your sense of humor and longevity in fitness that have continued to impress me, you are more than an actor to me, thank you.” We exchanged some wonderful moments in words, his assistant snapped a photo since we weren’t allowed to have cameras, and true to his word he sent it to me with an autograph. I sat down in the chair next to him as we chatted for a few minutes, the things he said to me are beyond what I could have ever imagined and I am forever grateful. This materialized all because of a tiny shed that crafted the foundation of the confidence I built upon. This is the first time I was made aware of the difference between motivation and inspiration.
Motivation is like a cup of coffee, it can energize you immediately but it wears off, when you inspire someone it last a lifetime.
SgtMaj Jean-Paul Courville,
A legend and true inspiration to many Marines including myself. Your tale of triumph and failures throughout your years has always astounded me and driven me to become the best version of myself. There are those you come across in a lifetime that can make a true impact on ones way of thinking and sense of self. You sir, are one of those people. Semper Fidelis and OohRah Marine! Stay safe and true to yourself!!