Let me tell you a little fictional inspirational story I heard a long time ago. I don’t know who told me this story for the first time, but I’ve remembered it over the years. And I actually cheated today when I needed to remember the exact details because I looked around on the Internet until I found it. It’s called “The Bowl of Ice Cream” and here it is:
 
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.
“How much is an ice cream sundae?” the boy asked.
“50 cents,” replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it.
“How much is a dish of plain ice cream?” he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient.
“35 cents,” she said brusquely.
The little boy again counted the coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the 35 cents to the cashier, and left.
When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw.
There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were 15 cents – her tip.
 
I imagine some of you have probably heard that story before. It’s cute, and it teaches a lesson. There are lots of stories like this circulating around our world, intending to deliver some kind of universal truth about life.
 
The boy in the story was thinking about other people, not just himself. He could have had the fancy ice cream sundae for 50 cents, but he would have had to stiff the waitress. He was willing to give up just a little bit of his own happiness to consider her feelings and make sure he did the right thing by helping her out.
 
I told you that story because I want us to spend a few minutes thinking about our lives in weightlifting and how important it is to think about other people while we’re traveling through this sport we’ve committed ourselves to. Obviously, there’s a chance some of you might be rolling your eyes and groaning when I mention the subject of caring about others’ feelings. It’s understandable, because our culture today basically teaches you that you’re supposed to be as selfish as possible. Think about yourself first. Or maybe think about yourself…only. And if you do things in your life that are good for other people, make sure you get paid for it.
 
Is it too touch-feely to talk about how we should care about other people’s feelings? Is it too hippie? Is this article going to be a waste of 20 minutes in your day? The answer to all those questions is no, and I’ll prove it to you if you keep reading. Trust me, I’ve been in this game much longer than the vast majority of you, and I know a lot more than you about how to do it the right way. I won’t steer you wrong.
 
You need to search your memory…

The first thing I need you to do it simple…reach back in your memory and find a person from your past (or maybe even your present) who was a major source of inspiration to you. You cared about this person’s opinion very, very deeply. Their approval was enormously important to you. You viewed them as some kind of hero, even if you didn’t use that exact word when you thought about them or described them to other people. A compliment or a kind word from this person would inject you with enthusiasm, while any criticism or disapproval from them would crush you. We’ve all had somebody like this in our lives, so I’m not asking you for something impossible. In many cases, these are going to be parents or coaches.
 
Let me tell you a story that illustrates this. For most of my competitive weightlifting career, I was coached by John Thrush. He was the major leadership figure of my athletic life, and a kind of second father to me. Anyway…I have an old picture from the 1999 National Championship in my scrapbook. It’s a picture of me completing a 185 kg C&J on my third attempt, which was a really big deal because that lift won me the bronze medal at that nationals and it was a personal record lift that I’d never made. Somebody snapped the picture right as I was standing with the bar over my head, waiting for the down signal. And in the background of this picture, you can see John standing at the chalk box.
 
The picture is blurry, and I can’t really tell what John is doing. It kind of looks like he’s got his arms up over his head, celebrating my big lift, but I can’t distinguish for sure. The fuzziness of the picture makes it possible that his arms might not be over his head. He might just be standing there looking at me.
 
John doesn’t know this, but I’ve looked at that picture a thousand times, trying to figure out if his arms are up in the air. You know why? Because his approval is that important to me. The idea of doing a lift that made him excited enough to stick his arms over his head and celebrate is just about the coolest thing I could imagine, and I’ve stared at that damn picture forever, hoping that’s what he’s actually doing. That, my friends, is what I mean when I’m talking about somebody whose approval means a lot to you.
 
Now stay with me for a second…do you want to know why I’m asking you to think about this? It’s because even though you may not know it, you’re that person to somebody else now. You’re a weightlifter, or a coach. That means you’re doing something impressive and special, much more than most people in the world ever even attempt to do. And I’ve been around the block enough to know that when you do the kinds of things we do, you’re going to have some people in your life who admire you, look up to you, and identify you as a source of inspiration. Even if you’re not a champion, this is still true. Some of you aren’t high level athletes or coaches, so you think I’m wrong. You don’t think anybody looks up to you or treasures your approval. But you’re incorrect. I can absolutely damn guarantee you that I’m right about this. Somebody in your life holds you on a bit of a pedestal, even if you don’t know it.
 
And I personally believe it’s your responsibility to be a good example for these people. You can shrug them off your shoulders and not give a crap about them if you want to. That’s your right. But great champions and true leaders don’t do that. They care, and they try.
 
The things we say and do…

Everything you say and do matters to that person, and the scary thing is that you say and do things every day that are on-the-spot decisions, without any real forethought. Some of them can be hasty or off-putting. They’re nothing to you, but they can be the end of the world to those people who look up to you.
 
I’ve had athletes come to me and mention things I said to them two years prior. These were comments I don’t remember, and probably didn’t even place a lot of significance in when I said them. To me, it was just one of the 8,000 things I say to people every day. But to them, it was something that might stick in their heads for years.
 
John told me I had a lot of potential when I was 17 years old. We were sitting in the TV room in the Olympic Training Center dormitory in Colorado Springs. I’m 44 now. Get the picture? This legendary coach, trainer of champions, told me I had a lot of potential and, to quote his exact words, “a big future in this sport.” Those words made me believe in myself, plain and simple. If this guy thought I could be a champion, then I could be a champion. I knew that was true because he had trained lot of champions. I also didn’t think he was lying to me. You know why? Because I trusted him. You know why I trusted him? Because before he made the comment where he told me how much potential I had, he had spent ten minutes having a conversation with me where he asked me about my family, school, where I was from, etc. He didn’t have to give a damn about me. I was a no-name at the time. But he genuinely cared, so he asked about me. That told me he was a good person, and it made me trust him.
 
So yeah, folks. The things we say to people are important. But do you want to know what’s even more important than what we say? I know, I know…you already know the answer to this. What we DO. The behaviors we model and the way we act, those types of things. These are the things that really absorb into people’s minds.
 
A non-John Thrush example of this comes from my real father, John Foreman. My dad was a coal miner, which is an extremely tough job, in case you don’t know. I honestly don’t remember if my dad ever sat me down and talked to me about being a hard worker and sucking up fatigue and frustration to get the job done every day. He might have said some things like this to me, I’m not sure. But the thing I’m VERY sure about is that my dad taught me to be a hard worker purely through his daily example. I spent my entire childhood watching that guy get up early, put on his work clothes, pack his lunch, and go to a job he didn’t like very much…because that’s what he had to do. I didn’t matter to me if he talked the talk. I sat there and watched him walk the walk every day, and I learned. He’s the reason I’m a hard worker. He’s the reason I never quit.
 
Yeah, it IS a lot of pressure…
 
This sounds like it’s a huge amount of responsibility, doesn’t it? People are watching you, every move you make. And they’re listening to you, every word you say. Your good moments can inspire them, and your bad moments can crush them. That’s a lot of weight to carry around on your shoulders, especially in a day and age when you’re programmed by the entire world to think only about yourself and what makes you happy.

If you’re a coach, this article should hit home in the clearest way possible. You’re the leadership figure for everybody in your program, and the stories I just told are exact descriptions of what happens every single day when you interact with your athletes. So in other words, we need to use this as a reminder of something we’ve always known…but maybe sometimes we forget. The example we set for people is enormously important. It’s actually the most important piece of the puzzle, if you want to know the truth. So if you’ve drifted away from this understanding, feel free to let this slap you back into reality.
 
For those of you who are athletes only, congratulations. You’re still in that phase when you get to be selfish, in many ways. Athletes have to think about themselves and their own training first. I get it. However, I also know our Performance Menu crowd isn’t a bunch of young kids who don’t have any responsibilities. Most of you are adults. That changes things. It almost creates a situation where it’s a given fact that somebody else is looking up to you. If you’re a parent, you know exactly who I’m talking about. And if you happen to be a successful athlete who’s done some special things, it’s even more true.
 
The little kid could have ordered the 50 cent sundae and left the waitress with no tip. He wouldn’t have been breaking any laws, and he would have gotten the maximum amount of personal satisfaction out of that situation. But do you want to know why you all got a good feeling when you read the last line of that story? Why you all smiled and thought the kid’s actions were pretty cool? It’s because you know he did the right thing. Regardless of religion, law, or philosophy, we all know what the right thing is. I’m confident of that, and no amount of metaphysical discussion about morals and ethics can change that. At the end of the day, regardless of how many degrees you have or how many Ayn Rand books you’ve read…we can all cut the crap. You know damn well when you’re doing the right thing, when you’re doing something good. The kid did something good. If you disagree, you’re misguided…and I don’t mind telling you that you’ll never be a good leader of others if you don’t understand why the kid’s actions were right. He didn’t just think of himself. He made sure he did something good for somebody else, even if he had to try a little harder than he was planning to do.
 
If you want to live a selfish life, go right ahead. You’ll probably be successful. But if you want to be remembered as one of those rare people who makes a true difference in this world, you’ll have to take a different path. You’ll have to think about something more than just yourself. The kid did the right thing, even when he didn’t have to. What will you do?