BANGOR, Maine — Seth Reardon wrapped his strong arms around the shoulders of his trainer, Louie Morrison of Hermon. Morrison straightened up, lifting Reardon from his wheelchair.

Supported by Morrison, Reardon dragged his right foot forward, putting as much weight as he could on his left. When his right foot made shaky contact with the ground, he shifted his weight and forced his left forward.

Reardon, 41, gritted his teeth, pushing out sharp breaths as the two men slowly advanced up the ramp to the stage during the World Association of Benchers and Deadlifters World Championships in Las Vegas last week, their walk recorded by cameras at the event.

“This will be the first time he’s tried to walk on stage!” The announcer called over the speakers. “Come on! Give him a hand.”

The applause and hoots of encouragement from the audience built as sweat beaded on the temples of Reardon’s bald head, dripping onto his face as he strained with the effort. At the top of the ramp, the stage leveled out. Reardon neared his goal.

Finally in position, Morrison lowered Reardon onto the bench and laid him back.

Reardon reached up, grabbed the bar, and caught his breath.

Blessing and a curse

Seth Reardon was born in Dexter, one of three triplets, to Linda and Bill Reardon. During his birth, doctors found one of his brothers’ umbilical cords had wrapped around his neck, reducing his oxygen supply.

Early on, Seth’s parents noticed he couldn’t raise his head and seemed weaker than his brothers. At age 2, Seth was diagnosed with cerebral palsy — a neurological disorder that affects muscle control and coordination. Ever since, he’s relied on a wheelchair and the help of his brothers, parents and friends to get around.

It was during his college years, after a bad breakup and bouts of drinking, that his brother, Lance, a competitive weightlifter, offered him a distraction. Soon, the weight room served as Reardon’s refuge — a healthier form of anger management and stress relief.

Lifting became his life’s focus around 1994. He started taking in more calories to build strength and muscle. He celebrated after competitions and workouts by going out with his friends to the bar or eating with his family. It caught up with him.

“I got up to 357 pounds,” Reardon said during a recent interview at LA Training, the downtown Bangor gym owned by Morrison, who met Reardon through his brother, also a fitness trainer. “I was doing more eating and drinking than I was weightlifting.”

At his peak, Reardon was bench pressing just over 300 pounds, which was substantially lower than his bodyweight — not ideal for a lifter who wants to be competitive.

His weight also was taking a toll on those around him. His father had trouble helping him into the shower and vehicles. Morrison was exerting himself trying to help Reardon from his wheelchair to the weightlifting bench.

The breaking point came in November 2013 after a competition in Reno, Nevada. Reardon’s brother Lance, the competitive lifter, dropped Reardon while trying to help him move on a plane.

Back at home in Orrington, where Reardon lives with his parents, Morrison joined the family for dinner, and was astounded by the quantity and types of food Reardon ate. He might have been burning 500-1,000 calories in a workout, but he was putting down 6,000-7,000 calories per day, on top of going out for drinks with friends after workouts, Morrison said.

Morrison told the family he was concerned. Soon after that, Reardon’s doctor warned him he was killing himself.

“He was on the road to being put in a home, just because of how physically out of shape he was,” Morrison said. “Even though he was a world-renowned powerlifter, he was unhealthy.”

He was having more trouble doing things he once did easily, rolling his wheelchair up ramps, pushing his way around stores and negotiating sidewalks.

“The more help you need as a person in my position, the worse it gets for you,” Reardon said.

One step at a time

After a series of interventions of sorts from friends, family and doctors, Reardon made a change. He started eating healthier, continued with regular workouts that included more cardio training, and began to shed weight.

In two years, he has dropped from nearly 350 pounds to 191.

As Reardon showed progress, Morrison began to think more was possible, so he added something new to his workout routine — regular walks along the length of Morrison’s downtown Bangor gym.

Reardon’s first walk was on Feb. 12, 2015. He supported himself with a walker, dragging himself along the gym floor. Taking steps is difficult for him because he had both his hamstrings and achilles tendons cut during a childhood surgery, not to mention the effects the cerebral palsy has on his muscle control.

As Reardon’s strength improved, he ditched the walker and began holding onto Morrison for support and balance.

During a recent workout at LA Fitness, Morrison put his arms under Reardon’s armpits. Reardon grasped Morrison’s shoulders, and got to his feet.

“You’ve got 99 percent of your body weight right now, that’s what I want,” Morrison said. “If I’m sweating at the end of this, it means I’ve worked, and I don’t want to work.”

“Finish it up!” Morrison shouted as Reardon began to struggle as he approached the other end of the gym. “Finish it up! Do not stop!”

He made it, sat back down in his wheelchair, and wiped his brow. It was Reardon’s last workout before the November World Association of Benchers and Deadlifters world championships.

His goals for the event: Walk on stage for the first time ever without a walker, compete, and win.

The lift

In Las Vegas last week, Reardon waited under the bar, staring up at the 225 pounds above him. Morrison strapped a belt around Reardon’s waist, securing him to the bench. Reardon can’t use his legs to balance himself during the lift like other competitors.

He put up 225, making it look easy.

Reardon walked onto the stage a second time a few minutes later, and lifted 253 pounds.

By the time his third lift came around, he was drained and needed more help from Morrison getting to the bench.

He brought the 265 pounds down to his chest and pressed, straining. As he pushed the bar up, his left hand fell behind and couldn’t catch up, and spotters lifted the bar onto the rack.

Reardon also failed on his final lift — a big challenge at 271 pounds.

He’d already done enough. His second lift, the 253-pound bench, earned him first place in his division, the Disabled 1 category in the 198-pound weight class. Reardon now is a three-time champion in that division in three different weight classes — 308-plus in 2013, 275 in 2014 and 198 in 2015.

“Mission accomplished,” Morrison said.

Reardon said Tuesday he hopes to participate in the world championships again next year, and tackle 270 pounds as his starting lift.

Thankful

With Thanksgiving approaching, Reardon said he is grateful for several people who have helped him along the way.

He listed his parents and his brothers, who stuck with him, including the times when he was angry or struggling; Mark Johnson, who drives Reardon to and from his appointments with doctors, trainers, physical therapists and anyone else he might need to see; Morrison, who has trained Reardon for eight years; and his dietitian, Erin Johnson, who showed him how to eat in a way that helped him achieve and maintain a healthy weight.

“They all deserve a big thank you for what they’ve done over the past few years,” Reardon said.

Follow Nick McCrea on Twitter at @nmccrea213.

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