Strength, hard work are Philippi's strong suits

March 12-18 is Milwaukee in Las Vegas Week on OnMilwaukee.com. Last month, Funjet Vacations sent our editorial team to Vegas, where we sought out connections between Brew City and Sin City. These are our stories...

LAS VEGAS -- In a town built on exaggeration and overstatement, where blazing signs tout "the loosest slots on The Strip" and "the best buffet in Vegas," Mark Philippi could have hung out a shingle and offered people a chance to train with one of "the strongest men in the world." He could have emblazoned the roof of the Philippi Sports Institute with a neon sign that says "Jason Giambi trains here."

But, that's simply not his style.

Philippi, who grew up in Menomonee Falls, possesses the kind of credentials that turn hyperbole into reality and it starts with his physique: 290 pounds of muscle packed on a 6-foot frame featuring a 56-inch chest and 21-inch biceps.

Not convinced? Take a look at his collection of national and international drug-free power-lifting trophies. How many people do you know have squatted 804 pounds, benched 540 and dead-lifted 821 in a single competition as Philippi did in 1996?

Need more? Pop in a video of one of the seven "World's Strongest Man" competitions in which Philippi has participated (although he'd rather not watch the 1998 and 2000 versions, which ended in injury, he's contemplating a run at his eighth WSM).

If that's still not enough, ride with Philippi to the campus at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, where he is spent 15 years as strength coach for Runnin' Rebels athletes and is currently an instructor and director of the strength and conditioning educational program within the kinesiology department.

Still need convincing? Grab a barbell and get ready for a set of deep squats while Philippi corrects flaws in your technique and pushes you to heights you'd previously considered impossible.

As a guy who has spent so much of his life in weight rooms surrounded by sweat-soaked benches, chalk dust and clanging iron plates -- Philippi knows that actions speak louder than words. As proprietor of a start-up specialty training gym in the heart of one of the most rapidly growing cities in the country, Philippi knows he will have to market his strengths and toot his own horn.

"I can train athletes," says Philippi, 41, whose voice is startlingly soft-spoken in contrast to his massive frame. "I can train 20 at a time with my eyes closed. In the university setting, you become accustomed to doing that. That part is the easy part. Right now, it's the business side that I'm learning about. In my position, you've got to do both."

There are no flashing neon signs outside the Philippi Sports Institute, the new 9,000 square foot indoor training facility located in an industrial park in the shadow of the famous Strip; there is a small sign on the front door and a decal on Philippi's big red pickup truck. There are no pictures of the famous athletes who work out at PSI, a group that includes Giambi and former Green Bay Packers linemen Mike Flanagan and Mike Wahle as well as a number of former UNLV players who followed Philippi into his new venture, but that is more of an oversight than a statement.

"I've got to get better at doing that,'" Philippi says. "I always forget to get pictures of guys. Flanagan was just here, too."

Though he welcomes the pro athletes, Philippi doesn't plan to exploit them.

"I don't want to gouge guys because they make a million bucks," he says. "I'll charge them a decent rate, give them a place to train and get them ready for their seasons. But, the bread and butter of the business are going to be the high school kids who want to get better in their sport. We want to take kids and help them make the varsity team or help the really good ones go on to play in college."

After leaving Menomonee Falls North High School in 1983, Philippi went on to play football at Montana Tech, where he earned a degree in mining science. He worked in Montana and took a job in Chicago when his interest in powerlifting led to competitions, which led to titles and appearances in strongman contests, where competitors drag trucks, lift kegs, hoist stones and throw telephone poles.

"It's kind of funny," he says. "There were times I remember thinking ‘I'd like to be the world's strongest man,' but I didn't really know what that meant." There are certain lifts that I'm probably better at than most people in the world. You start wearing out after awhile. I started looking around for something different. Like everyone else, I was watching the World's Strongest Man on TV and I got a chance to go to Scotland to compete in the World Muscle Power Championships and I took second. That led to invites around the world.

"Now, (strongman competitions) are a little more structured. Back then, if you were strong and you were good, somebody might fly you to Lithuania, pay you a couple thousand dollars and give you a chance to earn some prize money.

"We were in the middle of the field, right where they were filming "Braveheart." There were no warm-ups. You just go out there and lift. After you are done, you say "Hey, where are the showers?" And, the answer was "William Wallace didn't take a shower." So, we swam in the river."

"I liked competing in strongman contests, but I liked training for them more, because it was different. It was fun. I got to know those guys that were on TV. I traveled with them. I competed with them. It was a lot of fun. Now, there is a whole qualifying process and things are more structured. Whenever you get things more standardized, there are politics involved. The charm or the mystique of it are gone, but it's still fun."

In addition to his usual lifting, Philippi trains for strongman contests about eight or 10 hours a week, using an array of stones and other gadgets. "I try to keep them away so I don't scare people (at the gym)," he said. "I asked Giambi if he wanted to use them, but he said no. Maybe this winter."

Asked if his strongman experience helps in training athletes, Philippi cited the credibility and trust factor and the idea that -- as a competitor himself -- he can relate to what athletes are feeling.

"It gives you a perception of what they're going through, as players," he says. "I know how a torn rotator cuff feels. I know how knee surgery feels. I'm probably as good at rehabbing knees now as anybody. I've been through two.

"If I'm talking about lifting and can carry it over to another sport, it provides insight that somebody that just reads it in a book doesn't have. Does it make me a good strength coach or a bad strength coach? No. it just provides that insight. They can look at you and say ‘He's done it before." In the NFL, there are some coaches who never played. They can still be coaches and do a good job. But, they sometimes have to work a little harder to get respect than someone who has done it before."

Philippi has respect from athletes he's touched and the strength community in general. His next mission is to earn it in the Vegas business community. Once the gym is established, he plans to add wellness training, seminars, books, videos and supplements as spokes of the wheel. With a wife, Tracey, and four kids (a fifth is on the way), Philippi knows it won't be easy. Then again, neither is doing a partial squat with more than 1,000 pounds.

"I ended up making my hobby my work," he says. "Not many people can say that they've done something they enjoy doing and made a living at it. If it's something you love doing, you stick with it. If you do it well enough, somebody will actually pay you for it."