Stay motivated, stay motivated, stay motivated. (repeat)
Just hit 5 years, body hurts more than ever. The 2016 career will be hard, and the pain will grow more each day. My Hell is sunny from the window looking in, like a wide eyed kid glued to the zoo window watching the bears wrestling in their unnatural habitat. My hell is what some call envy, a dream gym, an "if only I lived closer gym". A "bad ass" gym that some even think about dropping their current freedom to enter our invisible caged freedom. I don't want to get burnt out, I truly don't, and I am scared that the dark hole will finally suck me into its sea of normalcy; a land of joggers saying good morning and pick up basketball games at the YMCA. A nine to fiver with friends, drinks at the ball game, a looking forward to the weeker, a non fucken weightlifter is what I am really saying.... and o yes how good that sounds. Yes, its my choice, and I understand I choose this lifestyle because I love this lifestyle. I love being a weightlifter. But I am not going to sit here and tell you that I never think about what lies on the other side of that white fence. I wonder if the grass is really any greener just like you. A man with a mission is what I am, a mission that at times fades away out the front door of the gym as my wide eyes and open mouth try to catch what everyone is laughing about.
They call me for seminars all over the world... Wow, that's a beautiful feeling. What have I created? I have woken a sleeping giant after coaching my first seminar. A smile appears on my face, and a joyful feeling comes over me, like seeing my mom cry from happiness. I skip to training as dreams turn into reality and ideas flood my mind like over pouring my morning coffee. Wave after wave of excitement crashes against me, telling me to go! The world has opened its doors to me from the prison of room 2.... I have finally made it... I am finally free from everyone.
This dreamful blog has been boarded shut, and this unoriginal "you can do it" bullshit blog is not reality. I can't even ride my fucken bike without the "you can get hurt talk", ended with "stop riding your fucken bike" talk. I watch my calendar full of hopeful seminars and weightlifting clinics burn in the fire from the broomstick bar yelling in my ear. His loud voice and sturdy hands overwhelm me with fear as I surrender and listen to him. I have one hand out towards coaching like a small child dragging their parent to the carnival ride they want to go on, and the other being grabbed by the broomstick bar. This life has constant moments of sudden possible change, that never seem to happen. I want to coach; I want to spread my ideas and personal experience to everyone and anyone who would care to listen. The only person I am frustrated with is me, know one else. I say this to you, I express my frustration to you, but then again I want to make the 2016 Olympic team and dedicating my life to training is the only path that will get me there. I am trapped, but then again I don't want to leave.
I will always wonder what the other side may feel like, how much greener the grass is, or if it's really any greener at all. I will endure the pain and do whatever is in my power to stay motivated and positive. I will strive to stay focused and committed to the task at hand even with the many temptations that try to lure you down the..... well not the wrong road, but just the not right now road. I will try my hardest to put coaching to the side for now as I walk down the dusty road called weightlifting. Weightlifting is a mind game, nothing more, nothing less.
Here is the latest Cal Strength video. Talk to you all tomorrow. Salute.