Olympian Gardner still tough to take down

This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2010, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Logan » Class is in session.

Rulon Gardner, the hulking former Olympic champion who once shocked the world by toppling a Russian Goliath, is working with two pupils: a 13-year-old boy and a 12-year old girl. It is the girl's first class, and she is unsure of her motions.

He takes her hands and shows her how to chop her opponent's arm, how move around them and how to bring them to the ground. A few men look on, shuffling as they wait for their class to start in the mixed martial arts room. Gardner does not notice them -- he already has students he's working with.

The farm boy from Afton, Wyo., became a gold medalist in Greco-Roman wrestling, a motivational speaker and an Olympic icon. But for today, the 38-year-old Gardner is just a coach, filling in for an instructor who couldn't make it to class. At other gyms or restaurants named after athletes, their names might be the only trace that they were ever there. But at Gardner's Elite Training Center, he's on the staff. His wife, Kamie Gardner, works at the front desk. He prides himself in meeting every one of his members.

"If I'm putting money into this, I want to know it's being done right," Gardner says.

Built into an old Macy's department store space, the fitness club is like many others, with uniform rows of dumbbells, an army of treadmills and other fancy-looking weight machines. There's a group fitness room where trainers teach yoga and Zoomba. Then there's Gardner's favorite: the MMA room which sports a padded floor, a boxing ring, an MMA octagon ring and a dozen punching bags. It's where he can teach wrestling and give back to the sport that gave him celebrity, money and purpose.

It almost didn't happen.

The story of Rulon Gardner is composed of many smaller, incredible tales stitched together. He earned a gold medal in the 2000 Sydney games by beating Alexander Karelin, the "Siberian Strongman" who hadn't surrendered a point during international competition in six years. He survived a snowmobile accident and a motorcycle accident before winning bronze in Athens. In 2007, he survived a plane crash with two friends who were stranded in Lake Powell for hours before a fisherman picked them up. By comparison, starting his own gym would seem like a simple task for a man who's made more than a million dollars as a motivational speaker and generated international acclaim as an athlete.

But building his dream -- to run a fitness club where he could teach wrestling -- nearly ruined the man who once orchestrated the "Miracle on the Mat." If it weren't for a old friend who took a leap of faith, the success story of Rulon Gardner could have transformed into a cautionary tale about the dangers of poor investment.

Still has the moves

In the adult ju-jitsu class, Gardner leans back easily against the boxing ring in the corner, and as each student comes in the room to jog around the mat, he nods toward them, saying, "What's up, sexy?"

Gardner is rounder than he was in his competition days -- his black T-shirt drapes loosely over his portly midriff -- but he still moves with quickness and confidence that belies his experience. As he demonstrates an arm grab on a student, he moves in suddenly but deliberately. Only a moment passes, but he has his opponent's arm pinned against his chest, an arm wrapped around the man's waist and total control.

"But this is the most important question," one student says. "How do you get him to the ground?"

Gardner's eyes widen. "Oh, I've got about nine finishes," he says. "You'll see them."

Teaching is something special to Gardner because, for him, learning was never easy. He grew up with a cognitive learning disability, and it took him hours to learn what others learned in minutes. Throughout high school, his reading level was comparable to a fifth-grader. Guidance counselors told him he would never finish college.

Through disciplined study and countless hours of tutoring, Gardner pushed through his education. After earning 64 credits at Ricks College (now BYU-Idaho), he transferred to Nebraska, where only 16 credits transferred with him. But at the age of 24, he had finished his degree in physical education in addition to being an All-American. He barely made a living after school by accepting a $9,000 teaching job at a middle school while he trained during his amateur career.

"To me, it was amazing to help someone learn," Gardner says. "I would think, 'Wow, what a gift.' If someone believes in you -- like if I tell you, 'I'm going to make you an Olympic champion,' -- that's the most influential thing anyone can do."

Building a dream

Gardner first started dreaming up the health club in 2003, but really got his plan in place together by 2007. He scouted out locations in Logan so he wouldn't have to compete with well-establish gyms near his home in North Salt Lake. To finance the construction, he started pinching pennies and letting go of the perks of his wealth. Gardner sold his Hummer, his Mustang and his truck to make the finances work. Even his prized X80 Mastercraft boat he used to take to Lake Powell was not spared.

He sunk in half a million dollars up front to pay off contractors and landlords, and he had a line of credit from Zions Bank. Construction began, and in the summer of 2008, the club was well on its way.

Then came the stock market crash, and suddenly, Gardner had lost 90 percent of his credit and a lot of his investments in other areas. He didn't have money to finish what he had already started, and the gym sat dusty and unpolished as Gardner went hunting for funding.

He hit up every major investor he could think of in Logan. He went to Salt Lake City to meet men with Leer Jets and million-dollar homes. Gardner drafted multiple business plans and wore his U.S. Olympic team polo to every single meeting. Invariably, he would get the same answer: Good luck somewhere else.

"I felt like a piece of meat," Gardner says. "I would do the whole dog and pony show, and then get kicked in the belly. I thought to myself, 'You know, I must have some value in this world.'"

Meanwhile, Gardner's landlords were asking for rent and his contractors were asking for money. As the months wore on, Gardner sat in his empty building on the unfinished concrete, wondering if his dream would ever come to fruition.

A helping hand

Justin Pope, a 38-year-old Logan resident grew up 50 miles down the road from Gardner, which in Wyoming makes you practically neighbors. In eighth grade, Pope handed Gardner his only loss of the season. They wrestled more in high school, and Pope eventually followed Gardner's path by wrestling for Ricks College.

The two talk to each other with the ease of longtime friends. Gardner jokes that the nickname for the two heavyweights when they head to buffets is "Close the doors." But the two had not seen each other in 18 years when Gardner approached his old buddy about helping him get a loan last year. It was a last gasp -- he was close to losing his lease.

After presenting his business plan and his desperate situation, Pope said he would think about it. In a discussion with his wife later that evening, he remembers what he said explicitly.

"Will it work?" she asked.

"I'm not sure if it will work or if it won't," he said. "But if it does work, it will be because of Rulon. There's no quit in him."

Pope was in the project two weeks later. He helped Gardner apply for a Small Business Association loan by putting up capital. After thousands of pages of paperwork, the application was approved by Zions Bank, but it was still months before the loan was federally approved.

Still starstruck

Today, the gym is fairly low-key. But with about 1000 members already, it's steadily growing.

Kamie Gardner says she never had a doubt it would materialize.

"[Rulon is] so passionate about everything he does, and once he puts his mind to something, he never quits," she said. "It means a lot to him, because he knows how hard it was to accomplish."

Gardner is not the only big-time name who has taught at the center. For his summer wrestling camp, he used his national team connections to bring in Bruce Baumgartner, Brandon Slay, Stephen Abas and Mike Zadick. Including Gardner, that's five Olympians with eight combined medals.

Although many of his pupils are fairly familiar with Gardner now, every now and then, they get star-struck.

"He was holding me in an arm grab, then he whispered in my ear, 'I used this on Karelin,'" says David Bates, a 46-year-old English teacher who has lost 30 pounds in Gardner's classes. "These guys are phenomenal world-class coaches. I'm getting into the best shape of my life."

Gardner acknowledges at some point he'd like to step back from the gym, at least so he and his wife don't have to work until midnight almost every night. He'll soon be looking for investors once again -- this time for expansion into Salt Lake City.

"It's something to build a dream and have a stake in it," Gardner says. "I didn't see it happening, but people took a chance on me and we were able to get it open. Thank God for that."