The Lion Of Winter

Ten Years After He Last Competed, the Eight-time Mr. Olympia Is Older, Wiser, Bruised, and Battered and Harbours an Unwanted Constant Companion, but He’s Still Irrepressibly Ronnie “Ain’t Nuthin’ but a Peanut” Coleman.

- Peter McGough

IT’S ALWAYS THERE, ALWAYS.

Oh, the intensity levels fluctuate; some days are not as bad as others, but it’s always there. Like death and taxes, it’s always there; a throbbing reminder of the ransom paid for past glories.

What’s always there? In the case of eight-time (1998–2006) Mr. Olympia Ronnie Coleman, it’s pain. At times stultifying pain, but it doesn’t stop him from being who he is and sustaining a philosophy he has followed since he started competitive bodybuilding back in 1990.

This writer knows the pain is always there. I’ve seen it in his eyes. Let me tell you a story. Rewind to Sunday, March 6, earlier this year. I’m in the lobby of the Hilton Hotel in downtown Columbus, Ohio, the day after the conclusion of the 2017 Arnold Classic. It’s just after 6 p.m., and my wife and I are ready to go out to dinner with Betty Weider.

(Listen, grasshopper, the first rule of name-dropping is that if you want to drop a name, drop a whopper—“Fred from the local gym” just doesn’t cut it.) We are set to leave the lobby when a hobbling Ronnie Coleman appears, navigating his way through the hotel’s revolving doors. He is supported by two crutches, the legacy of surgeries from the past 10 years. He beams that big smile that has toured and beguiled the bodybuilding world for nearly three decades. Incidentally, in reference to the sobriquet “the Big Nasty,” it does not really fit him, as that smile could light up Ohio. I approach Ronnie and give him the traditional hug and exclaim,

“Wow! Ronnie, is it raining outside? Your top is wet.”