COSTA MESA – It is a particularly vicious slice of hell that I could attempt to describe here.
But the better idea is to let Sean Demarinis put into words the event officials call the Husafell Carry – but only because those same officials know it would be too discouraging to give the event a more accurate name, like the Hernia Helper.
“You have a 400-pound weight on your chest, collapsing your lungs,” Demarinis says. “You can’t breathe. Your whole body is on fire. You just want to puke and throw up and die at the same time.”
And I’m sure it’s only a coincidence that the Husafell Stone is typically shaped like the monuments that mark graves.
I’m also sure it takes a certain type of special athlete to seek out and then engage in an activity most people would consider, at best, torture.
Demarinis is, without question, a special athlete, a three-time reigning America’s Strongest Man, a guy who can bench press 500 pounds, a sales consultant who, during his off time, can dead lift the back end of a Buick.
Now, before going any further, this is the sort of column that needs a disclaimer, one of those ominous warnings about the dangers of trying this at home. Again, it’s best to let Demarinis speak from his experience.
“It’s real important that people don’t watch this stuff and then try to go out in the driveway and pick up their car,” he explains. “They’re going to figure out real quick that they can’t lift it or they’re going to rip their arm off.”
Believe it, the ability to squat 700 pounds does take practice. In fact, it couldn’t be any more appropriate than to say it takes tons of practice, Demarinis doing most of his lifting here, at East Coast/West Coast Strength, Speed and Conditioning.
The facility is beautifully old school, somewhat spartan and somewhat daunting and altogether inspiring.
Along with the usual equipment, there are giant kegs for tossing, enormous tires for flipping and oversized boulders for doing whatever these strongmen want to do with them because, let’s face it, who’s going to say otherwise?
“It’s about the challenge,” Demarinis, 31, says. “It’s seeing how far I can push myself, what I can accomplish, how far I can take this. I’m one of those people who believes in taking things to the end.”
After trying football and track at Mission Viejo High, Demarinis found powerlifting, a sport that came more natural to him. At his first competition, he set a state record in the bench press without even knowing it.
By age 21, he was looking for more, his search starting where so many searches do nowadays, with Google.
Like most of us, Demarinis had seen strongman competitions before on ESPN, the muscle maniacs pulling pickups and curling people. Like none of us, he thought he might be pretty good at it.
Google led him to Scott Brengel, a pro strongman who now runs East Coast/West Coast and, at the time, was training athletes in his garage.
“The appeal is pretty basic,” Brengel says. “Who’s the fastest? Who’s the smartest? Who’s the strongest? It really doesn’t get any simpler than that.”
He’s right. Just think about it. The tradition starts on the smallest of our playgrounds and continues to the largest of our stadiums, from children to adults. Who’s the best at whatever it is you’re doing?
To appreciate Demarinis’ commitment to his sport, consider that his first workout with Brengel came on his birthday in 2008.
I’m thinking most of us would have waited one more day, gone out for a few beers to celebrate another year of life, overslept the next morning and then started our new training regime.
“I was intrigued,” Demarinis says. “I was like, ‘I wonder if I can do that?’ I was curious. I thought I was a strong guy, but I wasn’t sure how strong.”
Turns out, he’s exceptionally strong. Along with his three national titles as a middleweight (231 pounds and under), Demarinis is a four-time state champion, winning twice at middleweight and twice at heavyweight.
He is a pro in both divisions and, in July, plans on participating in the world championships in Ireland.
At 5-foot-8, Demarinis’ natural weight is closer to 250. By the time he’s ready to compete, he’ll drop about 20 pounds and reach 10 to 15 percent body fat.
The routine takes discipline and desire, neither of which – no matter how notable – lead to dollars.
Unlike many sports, strongman doesn’t exactly benefit from a major TV package, Demarinis earning only one purse ever in excess of $4,000.
His most recent national title came with a $10,000 prize, a total made less impressive once the government took its share.
“At the end of the day, you’re not left with a whole lot to celebrate with,” says this professional athlete who has precisely zero sponsors. “I just threw that in my savings (account) and used it for food.”
But still, he remains hungry, Sean Demarinis does, hungry enough to pick up a 400-pound tombstone and carry the thing to the point of wanting to lose his lunch.
Contact the writer: jmiller@scng.com
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