Shankle sits across from me, still there, still with me. Thank God for my weightlifting family, a cult that makes me feel needed, necessary, and valued. Nothing else has brought me so much passion. I spent many nights sleeping on a bench outside living homeless, thinking where I would be now. Who knew I would be here. Who knew the path I took in life would lead me to this. Life is funny that way. The talking to myself issue has put me in the chair facing a therapist. Ideas that run through my head have to be dealt with and organized. I see technique that confuses most coaches, and sometimes myself. I dig too deep into the philosophy of weightlifting, finding things that shouldn't be found. I am falling deeper into a state of wanderlust and ideas that I am afraid might take me prisoner for good one day. I am still getting to know this new Jon North, a man that lights his fire and cooks his dinner behind the screen of youtube. A puppet that Pendlay pulls the strings on. A freak with coffee that some despise and hate. A mental head case that if directed properly can work in your blessing. What most don't know is the influence my father has had on me, good and bad. Let's just say my mind works and has been trained from a very, very young age to see situations and move them without anyone knowing. Rooms spin while my head stays facing straight. Couches and chairs move from one end of the room to the other. My next move is crucial, what shall I do? Stop Jon! Just be you the people very close to me say! But how, when all I know is the Godfather lines and techniques my father drilled into me, while dumping me into social situations where they were looked at win or lose, and then discussed in depth afterwords. Rave parties, high on ecstasy when I was 12, only to sharpen up my social skills and adapt to life experiences. I might as well have been in school. A confused kid with an innocent heart, but scared by the talent of seeing situations not just people. I have come a long way in finding myself, and just being me, even though it has been a very hard challenge to shut that side of my mind off, and turn on the side of pure reactions and feelings. Yes we all have skeletons, these are just a few of mine that I don't mind sharing. I find this subject fascinating. My dad is a genius. But his genius he took too far, his so called powers are what killed him in the end. In the end his own strategies turned upon himself and locked him away in his own mind. The minute he used his powers on his own family, is the day the muddy bank gave way, and crashed into a million pieces. The first steps in breaking this curse is admitting and talking about the curse, then I will find who I really am.
40 Kilos to 166 Kilos has taught me a lot. Understanding that training with pain is okay, and losing is part of winning. This blog is far from motivational, more of a diary on journey within ourselves and what great things come of sports. A blog on how a coach can change not only your technique, but life. How someone like Shankle took a chance with me when no one else would. Yes, I can't read nor do math. Yes, I can't pass a simple driving test, nor understand how to work an ATM, but I do know how to slam bars and kill PR's. Thank you for listening to my violin.