Chris Ware

Big and bad.  Strong and confident.  Motivated and powerful.  A captain among his crew, sailing the seas of weights with his blond hair and short green shorts.  Legs like tree trunks, bubble butt that held a mustang's engine. Arms as long as ropes that smashed through walls and weights like heavy swings from a sludge hammer.  A hammer head full of little words, but a million thoughts.  A giant among men, a gladiator among civilians.  A presence you could feel before even entering the gym.  The sea parted when he walked, and the sea was dead quiet when he lifted.  You never were surprised to see him in the gym, because the word was already out that the lion himself was pacing the gym floor hungry and looking for food.  Goose bumps covered your body as the hair on your neck stood up like a squat.  Chris Ware is his name, and killing weights is his game.

He was everything I was not.  He stood 10 feet tall, I stood 1 foot tall.  He trained hard and held a 4.0.  I got high and held a solid 1.5.  I was a punk kid who looked up to the wrong people.  A kid who was not walking, but running down the wrong road.  Chris Ware was the beginning and the birth of Jon North. A birth that took place my first day of my freshman year of high school.  The first day I laid eyes on the green beast.  This story is the beginning my friends. I am taking you back to the start.  This story takes place before I met the dark world of weight training, weightlifting, body building, Miss Brown Eyes, The Dark Orchestra, you, my wife, my National Title, my USA teams, or my father figure Coach. A story that Chris Ware himself, had and has no idea ever took place, until now.  Now that I have a platform to speak on, I am proud to tell this story to the world.

I watched his every move.  Yea, you can call me a stalker, I was.  You can call me whatever you want, but you try seeing an alien for the first time, and let's see what you do.  Chris Ware had no idea, and still has no idea how much I looked up to him.  I would go home and tell my mom stories at dinner time about what happened in the weight room and what Chris Ware did.  I will never forget the day Chris spoke to me....... it was like a dragon lowering his head down to my level, breathing fire, and then flying away.  I spoke to a dragon, and the dragon somehow knew who I was.  I ran home and told my mom with excitement and happiness.  I studied how he interacted with others.  I took mental notes on how he trained, and the intensity he used to lift the massive weight he was lifting. When people ask me where I got my attitude from, my intensity, my drive, I always say Chris Ware.  Even though they have no idea who he is, I do, and that's all that matters.  If you think I am intense and crazy now, you should have seen this guy train.

Fucken let's go.  The Shankle of my Child hood..... let's go.  Chris Ware has made me a man without him even knowing it, and now it's time to put a sword though his chest. Kill him and take his strength. Thank you for all your teachings Chris. Thank you for changing my life and giving me the tools I need to succeed in sports and in life.  I took your powers and introduced the world to me, Jon North, the bar slamming weight killing Johnny Cash singing most hated man in USA weightlifting mother fucken Attitude Nation son of a bitch. With more respect than you will ever know Chris, I fight everyday to be like you, better than you, I try everyday to cut the dragon's head off that once blessed me with its fire. You have created a monster that now chases after you. WELCOME TO THE DARK ORCHESTRA CHRIS.  Please don't be scared, there is nothing to worry about.  Don't mind the skeletons and the dark stage filled full of salty coffee stained tears.  Please sit, for now you have entered our world, a world of hell and pain.  Snort the chalk lines of life with me, and eat the bar that breaks our hearts from let downs it has casted upon us.  A world of demons and back stabbing is where we sit Chris, a world full of nah sayers and hateful vampires. Success is outside. In here we chat while our skeletons play their violins.

I followed you into the jungle of weights, the Alice in Wonderland of barbells, and like the movie Jumanji I have never left.  I remember the person I was before being bit by the weight room bug and becoming infected by the virus.  I wonder how he is doing?  I wonder what has become of the outside world? I thank you every time I succeed Chris, but I curse your name every time I fail.  I wonder where I would be if I never met you, if I never wandered into the gym touching bars and plates like they were mysterious plants from an unknown world.  As you can tell, this blog has veered off into different directions a few times that has you scratching your head. It's because of the amount of coffee that is being poured down my bloody from the bar throat.  More coffee than you could ever imagine.  Plus, the song has changed a few times, which turns everything around.  But anyways, I really just wanted to say thank you. I am sorry about the dagger that I have stabbed you in the chest with, I hope you understand that I need all of your mighty powers to make this 2016 Olympic team.  I don't know if you ever knew the role model you were and still are to me.  I don't know if you will ever read this.  Hopefully you will come across this so you know the impact you had on me growing up.  I wanted you to know that there was a kid who hung on your every word and move.  I wanted to let you know that you changed my life for the better, and I bet there are others out there that feel the same, but have never spoke of it or wrote about it.  I don't even know if you will remember me, or know who I am, and that's okay, I understand, it's been many many years.  I want to thank you for inviting me to your house party, I will never forget running from the cops. Thank you for showing me the weights, saving me from drugs, guiding me to...... me.  Thank you.


Chris Ware 2016