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Monday, January 2, 2012

local meets and more excuses

Your excuses are cancer to my ears.  Leave me be.  Take your weak mind somewhere else; take your defeat out of my gym.  I see people like you everywhere I go like infected zombies walking around, just living, and hiding away when the sun is out.  The only reason why you tell me you want to train is because you feel better about yourself just for asking, just for wanting.  You want to be a weightlifter but you have no idea what it takes.  You have no idea what hard work is. You have no idea what those two balls are for.  If another person tells me they want to become a weightlifter and then gives me 10 reasons why they cant right now, I will just walk away from you.  You disgust me, you sicken me, I don’t understand your species and I will not let you infect my life with your sickness.  Don’t e-mail me, don’t call me, stop telling me your goals and then not show.  Don’t you dare play your violin in front of me, I don’t listen to that type of nonsense and just because your hamstring is tight does not mean you cant train, it means you are a pussy.  Here is your refund, now go away.  What did I ever do to you?  You contacted me, and now you give me the run around like I am a door to door salesman. 

I was going to write this blog about local meets and the importance of them.  I was going to write about how a weightlifter should compete as much as possible, but my phone and e-mail keep over loading with zombies, they are breaking into my mom’s house in Oregon.  I will not let them get to my mom and wife.  I will fight them off by removing them from my life.

 Its dark and everyone is asleep.  I am still drinking coffee, and I keep going outside to have my fire stick.  I pace back and forth outside thinking about training, nationals, my future, more training, and why these people love harassing me with their excuses.  I put out my fire stick and go back to typing to you, to the Attitude Nation, the only people who seem to get me.  I trained great today at the Crossfit gym, it was fun.  I competed in every meet I could get my hands on.  I traveled far and long to compete, to become someone, to make it, to get better and someday…….well, end up where I am now.  It worked.  I always say that weightlifting is like dating.  If you ask 100 girls out on a date, at least one will go out with you.  Just like weightlifting, if you always swing for the fences and always compete, you will soon win that gold. 

I lived dead broke for more than a year in this sport.  I slept in my car, struggled for change to eat at McDonald’s, and ran out of gas many times. You can bet your bottom dollar I was at every meet though, lifting my ass off.  I fought everyday to lift and compete.  I dropped out of school to lift weights, I became homeless to lift weights, I did everything in my power to compete.  I had no excuses, well actually I had a bunch but I never mentioned them, I just lifted the barbell.  I wanted to make it so bad, I wanted to be good more than ever.  All I wanted was to win a gold medal at a local meet.  I wanted people to notice me and respect me.  I wanted to make something of my life.  So there I was, some raggedy kid who wanted fame and fortune.  A kid who wanted success, a kid who wanted to be a champion, a kid who would have done anything to get where he is now.  I competed at every meet there was, and I still do.   How bad do you really want it, how far will you really go?  Now I eat steak in my big house, with a fancy bank account that buys me lots of gas, and my very first local gold medal that sits high on my desk.  To all you zombies out there, leave me alone.  Goodnight.  Local meets 2012 

1 comment:

  1. Yo Jon, this is RealTalk right here. Keep your head up man, forget them haters and do what you do. You motivate so many around you, its about damn time someone said it.-A competitor from Texas