LAWRENCE
The alarm clock was set for 3 a.m., every night, no exceptions.
When it sounded, Jordan Shelley-Smith would pop awake in the middle of the night, still groggy as he pawed his way through the darkness of his apartment. He was tired, but functional. Sometimes he would even forget that he had woken up in the first place. His body, though, did not forget, and neither did his waistline.
Each night, when the alarm performed its duty, Shelley-Smith would chug a large protein shake and then return to bed. This was the nightly path to the offensive line.