Let’s get the obvious myth out the way, quickly: it does hurt to be a professional wrestler. From spending a morning training with two of them, I can confirm this. And that’s without even being body-slammed, piledriven, or chopped to the chest.
Full disclosure: I did politely request (beg) to sign a waiver, allowing me to be slammed or at least picked up by the WWE tag team Pretty Deadly. No dice. And in all honesty, when one half of the duo leans towards me later in the day, pointing to a collarbone jutting gruesomely from where it should be, I accept it’s probably right that I was limited to an intense workout, under their supervision.
