Wrote this to song below.
It’s six in the morning as I gaze out the window of the green jungle. Ms. Brown eyes keeps my fingers typing as I write to you with many thoughts and emotions. I think that’s why I woke up so early, an itch to write, a brain itch that needs to be scratched. It’s been a sad week, but in a way a new outlook on life. Family and friends, that’s what matters. As I cry about a Bronze medal I have a family who loves me, why am I bathing in my own self-pity with a beautiful wife and a dog that I call my daughter? The small things in life have made me smile more lately, and I thank you for this Jim, even though you have passed you still are helping me become a better man.
I love the early morning, it’s like the ocean, there is something mysterious about it. As a kid I used to help my friend Andre with his newspaper route in the morning. I felt as if I was walking on the moon. I felt alive and adventurous. Four in the morning and everything looks different; everything you once knew is now changed into a dream world of aliens and monsters. The little old lady's house a few blocks down has now turned into a haunted house, and the trees are following me....I swear. The quiet makes you feel like the last person on the whole planet, a zombie movie you are the lead role in, a movie with a one person cast. The newspaper world I emerged myself in was the first taste of freedom for me, and it was a rush. My heart would pound the further I would venture into the unknown. I would sometimes look back behind me, thinking my mom would be there rooting me on with her open hands out in front of her like she was pushing me forward. Her red lipstick smile and golden blonde hair stood out in the night so I could find her in case I got lost. I would began to smile to her but then realize I was all alone, no mom, no one to cry to, no one to run to, no mom to help me if I fall, just me in a very big world. Sometimes I catch myself looking back for her as a 26 year old adult. I turn and smile to show her the PR I just made in the gym, but she has been replaced with a broken white wall. I guess a mothers comfort and love never goes away no matter how independent and strong you become. I guess I am still that bigger than me backpack middle school kid with untied sneakers and raggedy jeans that drag behind my shoes. A rug rat kid with a chip on my shoulder that thanks to a big heart smoothed the chip out and made it dull. Basically, I was a normal kid.
When I get up early I always think I should be getting ready for school, middle school mostly. The early morning takes me back to family breakfast, picking out the coolest outfit, waiting in line on the cracked pavement of the cul de sac with the other kids who have for some reason made that crack the official bus line. The good or bad feeling of remembering your homework...in my case mostly bad. I sometimes feel that I have been on a very long field trip, and at any moment my mom will pull up in the morning in her blue and white minivan with her pink pajamas, crazy bed hair, followed by the greatest question a kid could hear, "how was your day sweetie"? The smell of the morning can bring back memories you completely forget about, which makes your morning coffee much more interesting and enjoyable. Driving through the cold foggy air of the morning makes you feel like you are sailing the Atlantic Ocean with an image of yourself that looks similar to the hard nosed captain of the Movie Jaws. I don’t know how I haven’t crashed into another car or even a light post from all the day dreaming that takes place while I am driving. Have you ever been driving and forgot you were, then realized you were and didn't even know where you were? lol, well if yes than we are on the same page.
Boy this has been a peaceful morning, I needed this. A keyboard and coffee in the morning is all a weightlifter needs to clear his mind for the hell that awaits us on the platform. Train hard today my friends, slam bars today my friends, and attack life my friends. Kiss your mothers, and tell them every day how much you love them. Call an old friend, take a friend out to dinner tonight, tell someone who works hard that you appreciate how hard they work. kiss your wife, pat your dog, tell your coach thank you, because life is like weightlifting, it's completely unpredictable.
Here is the song I listened to while writing this blog. I could write a 500 page novel to this song. I don’t know why I am posting it, maybe to give you the same feeling I had while writing this blog that hopefully moved you in some way or took you back to a child hood memory. Salute.