Paco Keopanya, my house mate, is a little Asian guy.
I'm pretty sure he's shorter than I am at five-feet-five-inches tall. Even though he works out at the gym, I think I could knock him down if I felt like it. Although in the summer when he wears short sleeves, I did notice his awesome arm muscles, about six times as big as they "should" be.
When I failed to interest Paco in yard work, I weeded by myself, day after day, filling my big garbage cans. I could drag a full 55-gallon can, but I couldn't lift it, so I asked Paco's help. He agreed. To my surprise, he carried two cans at a time, up the big hill to the pick-up spot.
I'd nearly finished my yard project except for a dozen "weed" trees (an eight-foot maple and some shorter ones) too thick to cut with my clippers.
Paco noticed my work. "How are you going to get rid of those trees?"
"I'll ask Chris at Forest Green to cut them down."
"I could just bring some guys from work and a chain saw," Paco put on his EGM cap, "and we could cut them down."
Several days later, Paco mused, "Maybe I'll just take an axe and cut them down myself."
In a short time, he was back. "Well, I did it. Boy, am I sweating. Those guys at my job, they work like that for eight hours shifts. I don't see how they do it."
Paco took a shower.
I figured he just chopped down the maple tree, so I looked. He'd cut down all those trees, chopped them up, put them in garbage cans, and hauled them up the hill to the pick-up spot. Two at a time, no doubt.
I felt amazed.
When he came out of the shower, I praised him.
He shrugged it off. "Want to go for ice cream?"