Six-time world weightlifting champion C.T. Fletcher might not fear death. But he sure fears wasting life.

Last week, Fletcher, 64, relayed this spirit to a group of Rifle Correctional Center inmates.

“If you’ve got any plans, don’t wait,” he said, standing behind a podium. “Make haste.”

Fletcher is a world-renowned trainer and powerlifter who runs Iron Wars in Long Beach, California. The annual event is considered the most intense powerlifting competition in the United States.

Fletcher also has a distinct social media presence, with millions of followers across Instagram, Youtube and Facebook. Meanwhile, he’s featured on a Netflix documentary called “C.T. Fletcher: My Magnificent Obsession,” a deep dive into his ups and downs as a powerlifter. 

But one of Fletcher’s most poignant experiences is his journey from formerly clearing 650 pounds on a bench press to becoming a recovering heart patient. He’s had open-heart surgery twice, has flatlined five times, and now has a female’s heart transplanted into his chest.

Which is why he stood before a sea of warm smiles inside Garfield County’s one prison on Nov. 15.

“As long as their will remains strong, they can overcome anything,” Fletcher said of the inmates. “I’ll tell them where I came from, and hopefully they can find something in my story they can relate to.”

Fletcher’s appearance at the Rifle Correctional Center, a 192-bed minimum-security prison directly northwest of Rifle Gap Reservoir, was facilitated by Gabe Cohen. Cohen, a former prison inmate, also uses his life experiences to positively influence people like Colorado inmates, homeless, addicted and disenfranchised individuals.

In 2021, Cohen began a holistic, peer-support program called Discovery Cafe, which currently has locations in Basalt and Rifle.

Cohen said he also has a son who underwent open-heart surgery, and after watching Fletcher’s Netflix documentary sent Fletcher a picture of him and his son on messenger.

“To my surprise and to my delight, this man wrote me back,” Cohen said of Fletcher, who then invited Cohen to Iron Wars. “And we’ve been friends ever since.”

Fletcher, decorated in tattoos, is a man of good-hearted profanity, unfiltered humor and many lessons from the school of hard knocks. He’s the son of a strict preacher, who maintained that weightlifting was a waste of Fletcher’s time. Fletcher also grew up in the early aftermath of the 1965 Watts Riots, and cites his cousin Junior Miles — who’s spent most of his life in prison — as a major reason why he wanted to give inspirational speeches to prisoners.

“You are my church. You are my congregation,” Fletcher told the inmates, then highlighting an anecdote about his cousin Miles. “I couldn’t wait to get back inside the system and talk to you and pay tribute to my hero.”

Fletcher’s visit to Rifle was accepted by the inmates with open arms. After watching his weightlifting videos and listening to his speech, the inmates were chock full of questions about Fletcher’s life. They also later took individual pictures with him.

Eight-year inmate Matt Wright, 35, looks to get released in December. The big California native can clear 500 pounds on a bench press, and Fletcher invited Wright to come train at his Long Beach gym, Iron Addicts Gym, once he gets out.

“I’m just excited. I feel like I have a chance at becoming pro,” Wright said. “(Fletcher’s) the guy that opens the door for guys like me.”

And what has Wright learned from Fletcher?

“That you can just keep fighting and be better than you thought you could,” Wright said.

Five-year inmate Kendal Gilkey, 38, from Aurora, admitted he was already a fan of Fletcher before he got locked up, saying last week’s experience was “like meeting a celebrity.”

“It’s good to hear somebody’s story that’s unfiltered,” Gilkey said. “It is easy to relate to somebody who is on the same level.”

Inmate Richard Martinez, 40, from Delta, agreed having people like Fletcher come to the prison means “there’s a lot of good, positive things here.”

“That was good inspiration,” Martinez said of Fletcher. “Because he came from the streets.”

Before Fletcher ended his speech last week, he admitted that he used to eat four McDonald’s Big Macs, four fries and four apple pies every day for 20 years, and that he couldn’t even “bench the bar” after his heart surgery.

All that strength he had, he said, couldn’t help him in his most challenging times. Instead, it was his faith and his determination to keep going, with life being the sole vehicle to do so.  

“I ain’t fittin’ to wake up from this nap,” Fletcher worried on the day of his heart transplant. “The only thing that flashed before my eyes was what I had not done.”