If he can, I can

Sometimes I wonder how this guy came into being. What he was made of, where’s the list of ingredients, and who stirred the pot 🥣. No one has ever asked those questions, no one has really investigated why I did such things. What was my motivation, and where it came from. My only reasoning might be obtained from competition between my brothers community family faith and friends. The friendly competition made me stronger and helped me engage with others likeminded. I was enabled to face challenges much better considering I had a real life experience. Maybe this helped me to loose weight and try fitness?

I can vividly remember being raised with three brothers who were very competitive. Constantly racing on the bicycle, climbing up a wall or rope, possibly running in a field nearby. A lot more activities, this is just to name a few. We spent the entire day racing running wrestling jumping lifting and exploring all the time somewhat continuously.

Sometimes I won, sometimes I did not. It was all just fun, we did not cry or give up we just proceeded to the next activity better luck when the next game comes. I was not rewarded by merit alone or given first place for sympathy. We did not get a boost head start at the beginning of a activity, nor did we get special coaching. Everyone got an even chance to win, and to get a chance to stand on the podium. It was equal opportunity to get attention for a great effort and for trying.

I feel that this spirit resonated through out the entire communities in our generation back then, and the bond that it created never left my person. When we went to school it was there. On the school bus 🚌, at the play ground, at church, and in the home 🏡.

All of the above mentioned reasons is why I answered the bell when I was faced with weight loss fitness opportunity. Maybe it was all of the connections spent on days of competition with my brothers. I think it was community construction 🏗

One day while riding on a century (100 miles) bike ride in Kentucky, thunderstorms appeared and it started raining ☔️ profusely. It was really bad⚡️potholes could not be seen, vision was seriously blurred, raindrops in my eyes, water soaked clothes, unstable braking and shifting, unsure traction, cold hands. Riding a bike in this environment was a little dangerous. Life threatening and I was nervous. This was something that I had never done before. Not something that I wanted to do. However, I saw other cyclist riding in this monsoon. I saw that I was not alone. I was not by myself, and I heard deep inside a loud statement! If he can I can.

As a result I continued to ride through the lightning the massive downpour, and the dangerous conditions. I pedaled on my bike because I competed against someone else, and I was just as good as anyone. I can do this! Eventually the sun came out at mile 80 and I completed my ride right along side my riding companions.

Maybe it was the environment received in my childhood. Maybe it was our generational attributes passed down by our community family and friends.

If you look above and see my before and after weight picture in the about section in memorial fitness, do not say that I can’t do that. Say

If he can I can

One thought on “If he can, I can”

Rick Roop is a fluke of nature, a genetic anomaly. How else could a man in his sixties compete in both running marathons and bicycle races all while honing his musical talents. He sings, he plays piano, the trumpet, and guitar. He spends his free time traveling from venue to venue either singing the national anthem or playing it on trumpet to open baseball and basketball games, or whatever event he chooses—and he does so free of charge. He does all this while spending nearly two hours a day on the road to work his full-time job. Or at least, that’s what he once did before he retired. And Rick loves to compete. He’s an apex predator hell-bent on destroying his competition. Don’t believe me? Try playing against him in air hockey. He’ll have no mercy. Trust me, I know.

But all kidding aside, Rick’s quest for fitness came out of a stark realization that he was morbidly obese and badly needed to make some lifestyle changes or else he might not be here today to host this blog. His story is indeed inspiring to most, but also, sadly impractical for most. I would never recommend a man or woman his age to endure the rigors he inflicts on himself to remain fit. Certainly not without the approval of your doctor—and perhaps some counseling from a psychologist.

For most of us—me included—fitness will never be about competing in marathons or on your birthday riding a mile on your bike for every day you’re alive. For me, fitness is about function, about sustaining productivity and self-reliance in my senior years. At fifty-seven, a sedentary life equals pain. The longer I sit, the more I hurt, the more my hips hurt as I get back on my feet and take a few steps. A body in motion stays in motion, so the saying goes. And I’ve found this to be true. The more I move, the better I feel.

Now, I don’t run like Rick does, but I do make a point of walking about five miles a week, prodded along by my energetic dog who also needs her exercise. As of now, I work three jobs. A full-time job at Medic, another part time job at Children’s Hospital, and yet another part-time job as an author of Christian Mystery and Suspense novels. I don’t have time for a full daily exercise routine, but semi-retirement is just over four years away for me. That’s when I intend to up my game and exercise more. Not just my legs but my entire body, especially my back. For elderly people, it’s not important to run marathons. What matters most is your ability to get off the toilet without the need of a caretaker.

In my father’s last years, after my mother passed away from breast cancer, I watched his muscles slowly atrophy away as he sat in his recliner all day watching Fox News. He had suffered from polio as a child, and this left one of his legs shriveled and weak. He badly needed to maintain strength in that leg and most certainly his good leg. Otherwise, he’d be forced to leave his beautiful home he and his wife had built together. But he never did. Perhaps it was his congestive heart failure that prevented him. Perhaps it was depression after losing his wife of nearly sixty years. Regardless of the reasons, the result of his inactivity was that I became his caretaker for a time until he finally ended up going to a nursing home and dying there, all because he couldn’t get out of his recliner by his own strength.

My father’s experience has inspired me to make fitness a priority. I don’t want to burden my family with my care. I don’t want to live my last days in a nursing home. And, hopefully, I’ll have the power and will to prevent that. And that is what I intend to do—God willing.

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Russell Williams says:

December 2, 2025 at 4:33 am

Rick Roop is a fluke of nature, a genetic anomaly. How else could a man in his sixties compete in both running marathons and bicycle races all while honing his musical talents. He sings, he plays piano, the trumpet, and guitar. He spends his free time traveling from venue to venue either singing the national anthem or playing it on trumpet to open baseball and basketball games, or whatever event he chooses—and he does so free of charge. He does all this while spending nearly two hours a day on the road to work his full-time job. Or at least, that’s what he once did before he retired. And Rick loves to compete. He’s an apex predator hell-bent on destroying his competition. Don’t believe me? Try playing against him in air hockey. He’ll have no mercy. Trust me, I know.

But all kidding aside, Rick’s quest for fitness came out of a stark realization that he was morbidly obese and badly needed to make some lifestyle changes or else he might not be here today to host this blog. His story is indeed inspiring to most, but also, sadly impractical for most. I would never recommend a man or woman his age to endure the rigors he inflicts on himself to remain fit. Certainly not without the approval of your doctor—and perhaps some counseling from a psychologist.

For most of us—me included—fitness will never be about competing in marathons or on your birthday riding a mile on your bike for every day you’re alive. For me, fitness is about function, about sustaining productivity and self-reliance in my senior years. At fifty-seven, a sedentary life equals pain. The longer I sit, the more I hurt, the more my hips hurt as I get back on my feet and take a few steps. A body in motion stays in motion, so the saying goes. And I’ve found this to be true. The more I move, the better I feel.

Now, I don’t run like Rick does, but I do make a point of walking about five miles a week, prodded along by my energetic dog who also needs her exercise. As of now, I work three jobs. A full-time job at Medic, another part time job at Children’s Hospital, and yet another part-time job as an author of Christian Mystery and Suspense novels. I don’t have time for a full daily exercise routine, but semi-retirement is just over four years away for me. That’s when I intend to up my game and exercise more. Not just my legs but my entire body, especially my back. For elderly people, it’s not important to run marathons. What matters most is your ability to get off the toilet without the need of a caretaker.

In my father’s last years, after my mother passed away from breast cancer, I watched his muscles slowly atrophy away as he sat in his recliner all day watching Fox News. He had suffered from polio as a child, and this left one of his legs shriveled and weak. He badly needed to maintain strength in that leg and most certainly his good leg. Otherwise, he’d be forced to leave his beautiful home he and his wife had built together. But he never did. Perhaps it was his congestive heart failure that prevented him. Perhaps it was depression after losing his wife of nearly sixty years. Regardless of the reasons, the result of his inactivity was that I became his caretaker for a time until he finally ended up going to a nursing home and dying there, all because he couldn’t get out of his recliner by his own strength.

My father’s experience has inspired me to make fitness a priority. I don’t want to burden my family with my care. I don’t want to live my last days in a nursing home. And, hopefully, I’ll have the power and will to prevent that. And that is what I intend to do—God willing.

LikeLike