There is one room in Kody Merritt's Murray house that is his and his alone.
It's a basement corner room that's maybe 12 feet by 12 feet.
In that room, Merritt shows off 46 awards he earned for competing in his favorite sport — arm-wrestling.
On one wall hangs a U.S. map with little pins clustered in Utah and Idaho. There are a few stray pins in California and a single pin in Omaha, Neb. They mark the places where he has arm-wrestled.
But the 46 trophies don't matter every Thursday night, though, because that's when Merritt and his friends gather to practice.
Gary Dodge from Sugar House and Robert Baxter from Sandy begin the session by warming up. They chalk their hands, dipping into the bag much as a rock climber or gymnast might. Then they take their places at a table built especially for arm-wrestling, complete with inactive arm handles and padded sides. Serious pullers must make their own tables because none are commercially available.
Arm-wrestling has long been a barroom pastime and is just beginning to receive recognition as a legitimate sport, Merritt said. He and his friends dream of the day when it will be an Olympic sport and, if trampolining can make it in the Games, they are optimistic that some day wrestlers will strain for gold.
For arm-wrestling to become an Olympic sport, it first must be "widely practiced by men in at least 75 countries and on four continents, and by women in at least 40 countries and on three continents," according to the United States Olympic Organizing Committee.
For now, arm wrestlers must settle for competing in nearby state fairs for small trophies and smaller purses. Most travel to matches with their own money, which gives them great motivation to enter and win competitions that offer substantial cash prizes.
To arm-wrestle, Dodge and Baxter begin by stretching or "pulling," as they call it. Stretching is an important part of the sport because it can help prevent injuries that might cripple a wrestler's arm and take him out of competition permanently.
Baxter suffered a spiral fracture in his right arm and cut his brachial radialis nerve, putting him out of commission for 1 1/2 years. The break from the sport was mainly because he couldn't move his right hand.
Little injuries also plague the pullers, mainly tendonitis, Dodge said. "We love ibuprofen."
Eleven-year-old Taylor Dodge, Gary's son, has been pulling for about a year and can beat anyone in his fifth-grade class at Rosecrest Elementary, his father said with pride. He has been to tournaments in Idaho and Utah, arm-wrestling kids who are twice his size because pullers Taylor's age compete in age divisions, not weight, as adults do.
Weight divisions make it a little fairer for adults though, because 155-pound Jon Wootton from West Valley City doesn't have to wrestle 289-pound Merritt in competition. But there aren't weight divisions at practice, and Wootton and Merritt face off several times.
Merritt, Dodge, Baxter, Wootton and Shaun Nacey from Sandy arm-wrestle each other several times on both arms. Unlike novices, professional arm-wrestlers don't pull with only one arm — they would be lopsided — so they make sure to get plenty of practice on both arms.
Some arm wrestlers use steroids, but "the best in the world just train hard," Dodge said. "They're drug-free." Pullers stick to a training schedule much as other athletes do, with healthy eating, lifting weights and, of course, lots of arm-wrestling, said Bob Brown, twice a world champion with the World Arm Wrestling Federation, the sport's governing body.
However, strength doesn't mean as much as strategy does, Brown said, and there are many different ways to arm-wrestle. Pullers can use the hook — hooking their wrists toward their bodies to weaken their opponents' positions — or they can struggle for hand and finger position, which is how most East Coast wrestlers pull, Merritt said. West Coast wrestlers use brute strength more, he added. (The terms refer more to styles of arm-wrestling rather than geography.)
Sometimes in matches when pullers are jockeying for hand position, they slip out of a hold. Then the referees put the competitors in a strap that binds their hands tightly to prevent them from slipping out again. From there the match depends more on strength and body position than hand and wrist holds.
Whichever style a puller uses, stamina is a big part of the game, Brown said. Often at the end of practices, after everyone is sore and worn out, they will pull for minutes at a time, attempting to build stamina. And if minutes don't sound too impressive, keep in mind that arm-wrestling matches are over usually in fewer than 10 seconds — a "death match" is considered to be around 45 seconds, Dodge said.
Despite the testosterone in the sport, arm-wrestling is growing in popularity among women. Merritt's wife, Darcie, wrestles, and recently won her first match. Most women try it as a joke but then get addicted, he said.
Near the end of the practice, they take a break, stopping to chat and brag about past honors. They also give each a hard time: "Of all of us who wrestle, Gary (Dodge) is by far the ugliest," Merritt said.
"But it's undisputed who's the heaviest," Dodge countered good-naturedly.
They tease during practice, but they are good friends who coach each other when needed, suggesting different holds and which moves to do next.
"Bob (Brown) probably had the most to do with teaching us to arm-wrestle," Dodge said.
They practice and compete in good fun, and most of them are there because they are hooked on the sport.
"I always loved arm-wrestling," said Merritt, who has enjoyed the sport since high school, even though he started competing seriously just three years ago.
Dodge still competes because it's addictive but also because he enjoys meeting people from across the United States.
The practice ends after about an hour. Everyone's exhausted, covered in chalk and overheated because the tiny room has only one window. They won't be able to lift heavy objects or throw balls tomorrow, but it's worth it to them.
E-MAIL: kswinyard@desnews.com