My phone started ringing just as I was about to get to the gym. I’m an introvert, and ever since I discovered that I could text instead of talking on the phone I quit answering. But once I plunked down my gym bag by the bike I warm up on, I discovered that I had a voicemail. “Hi Joah, this is Dazzler from USAPL,” a chipper voice piped on the phone. “Your Athlete Locator Form said you are training starting at 5:45 . . . .” 

Just then, a petite blond walked over to me. “That’s probably my voicemail,” Dazzler said. She smiled, flashed her USAPL nametag, and explained that she was here to conduct a drug test with me. 

A wave of excitement hit me. When I was invited to compete on the national team, one of the requirements is that you make yourself available for an hour every day and indicate when you train at the gym so that USAPL can conduct unannounced drug tests. Dazzler’s presence meant I really had made the national team. I hadn’t misunderstood the emails. This was real. USAPL wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t show up representing the U.S. at an international competition and embarrass us all by flunking a drug test. If there was a problem, they wanted to clear me out of the competition now. 

“I have some paperwork for you to fill out and then whenever you are ready I’ll collect a sample,” Dazzler said.

The panicked look on my face was one that she had clearly seen plenty of times before. I didn’t have to pee.

“It’s OK. I have a book. I’m going to go sit over there. Whenever you are ready, just come and get me.”

Dazzler’s warmth and bubbly personality was reassuring. I started drinking the Gatorade I had brought with me and realized how nervous I felt. It was very similar to when I’m getting ready for a competition. I had performance anxiety! I felt bad making Dazzler wait and had an internal dialogue with my bladder: “Get going!” 

I texted Sam, Rampage, and Mr. Fantastic and drank more Gatorade. “Guys, there’s a USAPL official here for a drug test!”

“What? They really do that?”

“Wait . . . did you know she was coming?”

“No. She was here when I got to the gym.”

More Gatorade. The last time I had been drug tested, at the end of a competition that I had won, I got the official when I thought I was ready but struggled to perform once in the restroom. She wasn’t impressed and reminded me that she was a nurse — her way of saying she’d seen the human body do way more disturbing things than a function we all perform multiple times a day. It didn’t particularly help so I finally just had to close my eyes and do my best to pretend she didn’t exist.

Given my previous performance anxiety, I tried to overcompensate with filling my bladder. I grabbed Dazzler, and we headed to the women’s locker room. I felt a little guilty for the other women there who, if they were paying attention, were probably wondering what in the world was going on. There was a bunch of paperwork to fill out, and Dazzler joked with me about stage fright — everyone gets it. I was touched by her efforts to try to make this as not-weird as possible even as I self-consciously preceded her into the handicapped stall, which would give us a little more space.

Those of you who have not done a USAPL drug test have to understand that they don’t mess around. There are ways of cheating if you aren’t watched, so part of the drill is getting observed while you, um, produce. There’s no getting around it being awkward, but this approach has identified people who were using performance-enhancing drugs and lying about it. For the record, it’s the lying that ticks people off — there are entire leagues (USPA is one) that run high-quality and enjoyable meets without drug testing, so there’s no reason to cheat. Just go compete in an untested league.

Once Dazzler and I wrapped up the test, I walked her back through the gym to show off Union Fitness’s awesome equipment. She wished me luck at NAPF, and I encouraged her to drop in at Union if she was in the area again. A wave of appreciation floated over me as we said our goodbyes — she really had done her best to make this as comfortable and un-weird as possible, I was grateful for that.

Once she was gone, I still felt awkward, and said, “I feel accomplished, excited, and a little dirty.” Sam laughed. 

I frowned. “Stop laughing. You’re gonna be next.”

Three weeks later, Sam was pounding through his last set of deadlifts. Mid-rep he noticed noticed two guys in USAPL shirts enter the powerlifting area. He finished his set and turned to them.

“Hi guys! I’ve been expecting you!”