VIRGINIA BEACH, Va. — Steve Alexy walked carefully and pigeon-toed toward the dumbbells and mirror at the back of the gym, one arm held tight against his body, the other dangling, twitching and swinging out of sync with his gait.

His longtime partner Arlyn Smith walked duck-footed toward a pullup bar, going slow too but with short, quick, little steps that ensured she’d keep her balance.

Alexy, 53, reached a rack of weights and picked up 45-pound dumbbells for his warmup. And Smith, 45, strapped on a 35-pound weighted vest, grabbed the bar and pulled herself up, over and over, with ease. Here, in the gym, they don’t mind being watched.

The Franklin couple knows people make assumptions. It’s the same every day, wherever they go together. They feel the eyes of others, all the little glances.

Both accomplished weightlifters deal with muscle incoordination and slurred speech: Alexy from cerebral palsy and Smith from cerebellar ataxia. About five years ago, they started competing in powerlifting contests — not just ones for para athletes — and winning them.

They inspire each other and hope others are inspired by their story.

Smith spent most of her life never knowing how strong she could be: “I could have gone my entire life and never even have tried, and I wouldn’t have known.”

Last year, the International Powerlifting Coalition recognized her as its world record holder in her weight class, 56 kilograms, and division, women’s masters 45 to 49, for the deadlift. At 123 pounds, she lifted more than twice her weight: 264.5 pounds.

In 2024, Alexy set a United States Powerlifting Coalition deadlift record, 227 pounds, in his weight class, 67.5 kilograms, in the men’s masters 50 to 54 division.

As a child, Alexy was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, a brain disorder that affects muscle movement and coordination. He grew up in Franklin and started lifting weights as a teenager, going to the local YMCA weight room almost every day when he turned 21.

Between 2014 and 2019, he competed as a bodybuilder. The competitions weren’t about how much weight a contestant could lift, but about how good their muscles and tone looked onstage.

“I called it trying to look pretty,” he said.

Alexy said he won almost all of the 13 bodybuilding competitions that he entered.

“Every time I played,” he said, smiling, “I won.”

During one of his final bodybuilding shows, he met a woman backstage who became a casual friend; a few years later, she suggested he meet one of her friends, who, like Alexy, had a physical disability and was interested in pursuing athletics. Alexy agreed to meet her and got her cellphone number.

“He texted,” Smith recalled. “And we’re still together.”

When they met, Smith was going through a difficult time. She was in recovery for substance abuse and anorexia. She was 39 and hadn’t moved unassisted by a wheelchair or walker in 15 years. Still, she wanted to give an old pursuit another try.

As a child, she’d always wanted to be an athlete. Her dad used to take her to the track and wait and watch as his little girl ran laps. By the time he took his own life, his daughter, 21, was all grown up.

At age 23, she said, an overdose caused a stroke that resulted in her permanent cerebellar ataxia, damage to the part of the brain that manages balance and movement.

Alexy encouraged Smith’s goal to feel strong again. They started working out together near where she was living in Williamsburg. After a three-month courtship, Alexy moved to the Peninsula to be closer to her. Six months later, they both moved to his hometown of Franklin.

They bonded over weights, laughing and having fun watching World Wrestling Entertainment, and caring for a three-legged cat. They felt they understood each other.

They shared a frustration: Strangers would observe the unusual way they walked, strain to understand their words when they talked and assume their physical disabilities also equaled mental or cognitive limitations.

“What was assumed was that something else was wrong with me because I couldn’t verbalize. But the reason was, I physically could not,” Smith said, “which was frustrating, because I had fully formed thoughts. I just couldn’t get them out.”

They both have healthy minds trapped in impaired bodies.

“We are the same,” Alexy said.

They work out in Courtland at the Retro Flex Gym, which is owned by Hunter Darden.

“They’re here almost every day,” Darden said. “They’re good people, really good people.”

“They are inspiring people,” he added.

Training alongside Alexy, Smith gradually relied less on her walker. Over time, he encouraged her to try to walk to the end of the driveway without it. And she did. That continued with other goals.

“No one in my life had ever supported me with things, like driving to the mailbox or walking down the sidewalk,” she said.

Then she started racking up accolades. Powerlifting competitions involve three types of lifts that tally to a final score: squatting, bench press and deadlift. Alexy does not compete in the squat. His knees turn inward under too much weight, and arthritis in his shoulders makes it too painful to bench press. But Smith does all three.

This year, the United States Powerlifting Coalition sent her a certificate, explaining in writing: “It serves as proof that the lifter was successful in competition and has set the standard in the nation for the most weight lifted in their weight class and division in the following categories”:

• Squat: 130 pounds

• Bench press: 103.6 pounds

• Deadlift: 257.9 pounds

• Total: 491.6 pounds

She’d set another national record.

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