I write to you from the far away island of Maui. On the beach with miss brown eyes by my side, ridding the waves of life...literally. I have been playing cast away for the last four days. I haven't touched a weight sense I sailed upon this easy going orchestra, played by white birds on a blue stage full of flowers and palm trees, much different the the Orchestra I know. And while everyday is paradise, the sunny heaven I bathe in also brings a sandy explosion of a homesick feeling that grows within my ears and throughout my sandy feet. That's why I must visit my home.....The Dark Orchestra. Let me step out from the sun, and enter the dark. Let me step away from my family, and hang with my other family. Let me say good by to happiness and hello to pain. Know matter how far I travel, Weightlifting follows me everywhere.
This wet Island is a refreshing change from the the dry spell that my team mates and I have had in the gym the last few weeks. Ever sense Coach left, the drinking water has become scars. Weightlifters are going hungry, and PR's are moving onward looking for green grass, waterfalls, and other life to feed off of. A PR is a person too, they need us just as bad as we need them. I wait for Coach like one pig waits for another. I wait for coach like he waits for me to finally break the weight from the floor. I will wait for coach like he has waited for me the last three years. This sport has taught me that time moves slow, and with patients grows great things to come, and waiting for coach is just another great thing soon to bloom into gold. The gym has left with him, and the weights followed closely behind like a puppy being dragged by a little boy walking too fast. Smiles are now smirks, high fives are now low two's, and big bright eyed looks for approval have melted into an empty chair sitting in front of an empty desk giving careless feedback. If a big lift is made and coach pendlay doesn't see it or hear it, did it happen? This is the million dollar question.
Blue ocean as far as my eyes can reach. Water as clear as air, and sky's as blue as the towel me and miss brown eyes sit on. I think and smile, I think and frown, I am happy, I am depressed, I am a sandy beach full of emotions that has me running my finger back and forth in the sand. A black crow to my right, and a white dove to my left. Miss brown eyes in my belly, and a deep chip in my heart. This blog goes out to all, weightlifting or not, a story about a beach and what it can bring out of you. Eyes up young man, stop looking down Jon. Look out to the sea as if you are catching the bar. Eyes up coach says, as I picture him standing there with nothing around him but him, and the look on his face that waits for my response to his always great coaching cues. This man has dedicated his whole life to this sport, and the realization that I am included in the package is mind numbing. He coaches like an innocent kid flying his kite high in the air with complete pride and concentration. Sorry, this is just the image that popped in my mind when thinking about coach coaching. Wow, the air feels free here, a feeling of let go and escape. Look, you can see the kite that coach flies from here......that son of a bitch. A beautiful feeling rudely woken by reality as I have trouble swimming with the long heavy pendlay bar attached to my ankle. Hello world. Hello sea turtles.
My sister getting married is something that I can't talk about. I can't even write about. I hope you understand. The words don't have a chance, they will never see the light of day. They will live and die inside me. An emotion that has been sentenced to the death penalty. Typing this has already made me leave the computer a few times. So I must end it hear, I have nothing else to say about this.
A kiss from coffee surrounded by non weightlifting civilians. This is dangerous. I fear for the people around me. I am a lion amongst sheep. A rage in me that can snap at anytime, springing me off the sand I sit on and into a full sprint tackling a white sheep into the water and eating my prey like a vampire. I shouldn't be allowed around the public. I don't trust myself, and they shouldn't trust me. I have been taught and trained to become an animal the last 5 plus years. I have been trained to react and attack without thinking. I have been trained to wake up and get strong! Fight! Kill! Train! Win! Endure the pain! Everyday I am kicked down to only stand taller. I am beat up to become strong. I am slowed down to move extremely fast. Coach is never happy to keep me always hungry. I am overloaded with weight only to throw weight high and then slam weight down. I can't run because I am built to lift. I am trained to love pain, except pain, live with pain, so now I don't feel pain. Just the other day I snapped......yes in training towards the weight, replace the weight with a person.....yea see, scary and not good. SNAP! I am left gasping for air dramatically looking around the room trying to read the situation because I have know idea what the hell just happened. I need to be locked away. Throw away the key and let Pendlay create an even stronger and faster monster. Blame coach, not me. I sit on this beach with little twitches that have me scared like Edward Norton in the Hulk. What the fuck did coach do to me? What the fuck have I become?
I guess these are just some of the many thoughts that come over me as I sit on the sandy beach of Hawaii.
Lexy North 2016