A while back my grandmother was sick with emphysema. One afternoon my mom and I had taken her to the doctor. When we got back to her home she was too weak to walk up the stairs to her apartment. I told her I'd carry her up the stairs. After all, it was only five steps up and I was a big 220-lb weight trainer so I figured this would be a cake walk. Boy was I in for a surprise.
I bent over, grabbed her in my arms and picked her up. I was shocked at how heavy she was. What's going on here?! She weighs a ton! This cannot be! I thought "no problem, I can still handle it."
I stumbled a bit and walked toward the steps. The first step took a lot out of me as I was already huffing and puffing. But I still had four more to go. "Uh-oh, I think I'm in trouble," I thought. I forged on up the rest of the stairs using every ounce of energy and strength I could muster. I was getting more and more light-headed and dizzy with each passing step. As I finished the last step and got to the top, I felt myself on the verge of passing out. I placed my grandmother down on her feet as I grabbed onto the railing to catch myself. If there had been one more step I would have surely blacked out and fainted, bringing my grandma down with me in the fall.
I was completely fried. Every muscle ached like never before, I was gasping for breath and feeling sick to my stomach. After a while I regained my composure and wherewithal. I asked my mom how much granny weighed, expecting an answer like 200 lbs. I was stunned to hear her response - "about 140." I could curl much more than that with a barbell yet I couldn't carry that amount. Something is terribly wrong here.
That day forced me to reexamine my training methods, as it was becoming apparent that bodybuilding wasn't giving me the functional real-world strength that I craved.