In the weight room the other day, while I was pathetically trying to hold my own in preparation for spring break, some insanely ripped specimen of mankind, cut straight out of the mold of Mark McGwire in his prime, strutted around sporting his senior year football T-shirt.
Some football graphic decorated the front of the shirt while the back simply contained a motivational quip that undoubtedly anyone who has competed in one sport or another has heard from their coach as they encourage their players through the final leg of a sprint.
It read, “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”
I took another look at the guy wearing the shirt. Life in the weight room had certainly treated him well. His forearms were the size of my head and he had the privilege of every person in the weight room staring at him in awe as he gracefully hoisted ridiculous amounts of weight on the bench.
He was the kind of guy that no one would even consider picking a fight with at a bar and a person who made sure to glance at himself in the mirror every little chance he had.
He finished up with his last set, took a drink of water, marveled at himself in the mirror one last time and left the weight room. He seemed to be the type who I’m sure undoubtedly ran home, poured down a glass of creatine, popped a few pills of Ripped Fuel and an array of other performance enhancing pills, and was back in the weight room as soon as classes were done the next day.
Supplements have nearly become a staple of modern-day bodybuilding. People read the labels, see the ads, observe some of the results on other people and convince themselves that there’s no other alternative when it comes to getting bigger.
To them, it’s like teeing off with a seven iron when your opponent is hitting a driver. You simply cannot keep up. And to some extent, they’re right. Weight-gaining, fat-burning and other dietary supplements have proven effective over the last decade. They’ve certainly done some wonderful things for people.
Frequenters of health clubs have seen their bench press skyrocket since adding these new over-the-counter supplements into their diet. Body fat has decreased and muscle mass has increased.
People are more satisfied with their appearance in the mirror and their self-esteem is through the roof. This new revolution of pills and powder has delivered a utopia to those who have indulged themselves in them, and one would have a hard time even imagining what life would be like without these miraculous capsules containing the solution to all of weight lifting’s frustrations.
Some people, for one reason or another, simply choose to take these supplements. Others feel that it’s something they have to do. Certain athletes feel that performance-enhancing drugs will help them make the team or crack the starting lineup. Even some actors resort to taking these pills when preparing for certain roles in order to fit the mold of their on-screen character.
Whatever the reason, these drugs are bought and they are absorbed.
But what happens if they do kill you?
Steve Belcher, a 23-year old pitcher for the Baltimore Orioles, died of heatstroke Feb. 17, a death that has since been attributed in large part to Belcher’s use of the diet supplement Xenadrine RFA-1. More specifically, it was the nutritional supplement ephedra, contained in the Xenadrine, which has been linked as a major factor to his premature death.

It has also been reported that ephedra can also be accredited to the death of former Minnesota Vikings offensive tackle Korey Stringer, who also died of a heatstroke July 31, 2001 while in training camp.
Dozens of different questions have been floating through the air in the wake of the sports world’s latest tragedy. Who’s at fault for such a catastrophe? When should an athlete draw the line when it comes to taking these dietary supplements? Where are the regulations?
One can easily blame Cytodyne Technologies, the company that makes and sells Xenadrine RFA-1. If doctors’ accusations that it was in fact ephedra that killed Belcher are true, than it can be argued that Cytodyne is a predator more than it is an entrepreneur. They’re selling a lethal product. Such is the belief shared by the Belcher family, who plan on suing Cytodyne in the next few days.
How about the Orioles organization? Belcher had a history of hypertension, liver disease and heat illness episodes — all of which also allegedly contributed to Belcher’s death. Why was he even allowed to play in the heat when team doctors previously knew all of this?
Cytodyne will use this argument to shield the lawsuit from the Belcher family and pin the blame on the Orioles. They claim that millions of people use this product annually and suffer absolutely no consequences.
And the finger pointing will persist, probably for the next few years. Dollar signs and autopsy reports will be tossed back and forth between different parties as everyone digs deep to find out just who exactly is to blame for this.
But despite what the courts determine and aside from how each party crafts their case, the truth is already in front of us.
This is neither the time nor the place to trample on the grave of a young athlete, who died tragically while trying to take a short cut to the major leagues, but it was Belcher who unscrewed the cap and it was Belcher who swallowed the pills.
It was Belcher who ignored all of the caution signs warning of the dangers of ephedra and it was Belcher who decided to take it despite the fact that it’s a product banned in the NFL, NCAA and Olympic events.
He knew that he suffered from conditions not conducive to ephedra and still decided to take it ? reportedly in excess amounts at times.

It’s unfortunate and heartbreaking that Belcher felt he had to take such a supplement in order to make it in the big leagues. At the age of 23, he undoubtedly had a promising career in front of him.
It’s unfortunate that certain drug companies seemingly care more about profit than human life. Maybe if they had a little bit more integrity, they would do more than just post warning labels on their sometimes-dangerous products.
Whether or not someone takes supplements is entirely a personal choice. The consequences can be fatal while the rewards can seem beneficial. It’s simply a risk many people are willing to take.
And, like that motivational anecdote says, if it doesn’t kill them only it makes them stronger.
But sometimes it does kill them. And herein lie the paradox and the problem of deciding to take such a substance.

No one can deny that the day Belcher decided to use diet supplements, he knew he was walking on a very slippery slope.