The song that brought this old race horse to peace
I am on empty. I am tired and half confused. I am beat up and half asleep. I have buried my head in the sand to see nothing but dark, here nothing but the soulful music of Clint Mansell, and mostly to hide away from the man who makes my body hurt from his name alone, Coach. Hopefully he wont find me, because if I have to lift another weight I think my body will vanish into a cloud of chalk, never being able to yell Shankle again, or slam a bar down with built up rage and anger. I am slowly and gently pressing these little black keys while listening to this beautiful song that has my body swaying back and forth like I was playing the piano. Today was an average Joe day, a put your head down and get through the workout day. Glory fell short from today's painful escape from reality, as we all took turns lifting like hamsters in a cage fighting over the wheel. The wheel that never damn ends.
Its raining outside now, which makes the Dark Orchestra that much more peaceful and relaxing. I needed this, this time with you, this time with miss brown eyes. So thank you for joining me on such short notice. Here, I bought you a coffee, drink her down and feel all your stresses and frustrations seep out of your body. Let her take complete control over you, let her wipe away your sadness and anger. Lean on her when times get hard, drink her when you feel like waving that white flag. Something the white flag crosses my mind from time to time. I am not going to lie. This is a hard sport, a hard lifestyle, a strict and never forgiving world we live in. Live like others and then some world. Raise your kids like a pro, make money for your family, and then go above and beyond by beating yourself up on your own free will in a cold gym everyday damn night after dinner. While others sit back and work on their model ships, watch the night time news, we throw ourselves down a flight of fucken stairs. Every damn day we punch ourselves in the head, while others say "ouch" we smile with pride. While others say "stop" we keep going under that bar that knock us back over and over again. Under, under, under, under, fucken under and then under some more. It never ends, the pain never leaves, the heartache of wanting something so bad never seems to lighten up. The alien looks at your local grocery store that try so hard to figure out why you have white dust all over your body gets old and fast. Somedays I feel like pulling the Al Pacino bad guy speech on em. Freaks I tell yea, a group of odd ducks that swim up river not down. An Orchestra of emotions that beats to our own drumb.
Its so beautiful outside this green jungle window. You should see my view right now. Its one of these nights where the rain has stopped, but the streets are still coverd in water. Its just dark enough where all the parking lot lights and street lights are reflecting off the wet road, giving the night a blury mix of colors and reflections. Its a very Christmas December feeling that has come over me. Fuck I am glad to be alive. The white flag will never be waved, we are born fighters, period. Even though I sometimes imagine how life would be if I waved that weak liberal flag. What would we become if we just quit lifting? I wonder what life would be like, and how our world would change. What if we stopped beating ourselves up? Would life then take the bars place and beat us up? I would much rather be beaten by the always strong bar, than fall pray to this game of life. would you? I feel that sometimes doing nothing is something. I feel that laying around after training tomorrow and watching 10 movies while drooling at the TV screen in my sleeping shorts, eating cheesey puffs, is something this old race horse needs. I need a nothing day, maybe you do to. A call in sick day...well after training of course, we don't want to fall victim to the devil in the red dress. But after training we need to stop, stop for a day and shut the mind and body off. No emotions, no energy, don't make your bed, don't take the trash out, don't wash your car, just do nothing. Yes, this is what we need. This should be a monthly holiday for us warriors, for us old race horses. Let me know how your day of nothing goes, I would love to know. I know this is short notice, so if you cant tomorrow than do it soon. But then again Attitude Nation....do what you want. AC up! windows down!..... That would have been a great line to end this blog on, but nope, I guess miss brown eyes has more to say.
How do I go from a 160 190 day on Friday, and today a everything past 70 damn kilos feels like a semi truck day? It's like my bar had too much pasta last night and she gained 100 pounds. I swear this sport makes no sense. The day you try to figure out this sport is the day you will lose your mind. Take my word for it. I have tried, and the next thing I knew I was sleeping in my car talking to myself while popping vicodin pills left and right. I am so tired. My wife asked me before I left to come chat with you in the green jungle, "why don't you just relax here and rest your tired body"? I responded with drowsy eyes and rolled over shoulders, while grabbing my right elbow from the massive tendinitis it has. I said "sweetie, I must write, I must play my violin in the dark hidden from reality world with people who get me, the people who understand what it means to bang your head against a wall all day and then cry while at the same time smiling. I love you, be back soon." I love my wife so much I want to cut her head off and carry it around with me everywhere I go.
Well I should probably get back home and enter a dream world full of non weightlifting, full of non existing coaches yelling at me, know body pain, and know white flag thoughts. Dreams of my mom smiling and laughing. My mother happy is heaven. Love you mom, goodnight.