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Thursday, December 6, 2012

33,000 Feet



I am being told to write only Weightlifting by the waving fingers who look down upon me.  The tall shadowy figures that don't seem to have faces, just their shadows that turn skinny out my bedroom door.  I am told by many that what I write is bullshit, garbage, and non motivating. I am often reminded of not being educated, nor smart.  My hate mail runs further than a king's scroll, and the worst part is I have no idea who they are, and even though at time this hurts, I will continue to write what comes to me, and what makes sense to me.  I write to you, not them.  What they don't understand is that everything I write is about Weightlifting, but they will never understand this, just like they will never sit at this table.  Already I have written a paragraph about weightlifting, what you take out of it is up to you.  I guess these thoughts run through my head 33,000 feet in the air as I drink little cups of sprite, while carving little bites into pretzels to see what shape I can make them, all while mentally writing a diary about the odd things that enter my mind.

A time machine that gives me the great chance to meet others. A flying machine that can bring people close to do what we love, and lifting weights is one of them.  Hard is an understatement, traveling the Country conducting certs while training full time seems almost impossible, and at times can break me down more than the weights.  A large coffee and the love for what we do keeps me moving.  A large coffee gets me off the airport floor after a 7 hour lay over.  A chance to see a whole gym slam bars and PR gets me in the cab to the hotel.  The growth of the sport gets my travel size tooth past out to brush my teeth at 7 AM in a motel outside of the city.  The chance to meet others and to be accepted in their world makes me walk even faster to their gym door as the nervous twitches take over while I tuck my shirt in before walking in.  Have I ever thrown up before a cert..... yes.  I attack a cert just like I do a competition, and for this the same effects apply.  Shit, I attack everything in life like a competition.  I will fly 'til my plane goes down, and I will never stop writing no matter how long the scroll of words may be. 

I know you, and you know me, and because of this we must never leave the Orchestra empty, we must keep the dark bright and the skeletons happy.  I am behind your screen while you read this, we are both addicted to lifting weights, and lifting weights is what we shall do.  Anyone who tells us different may not enter this blog, they may not eat the pretzels 33,000 feet high.  The joy the bar gives us makes us spread that same joy to other things in life, and for this we are forever grateful.  Grabbing that bar makes writing possible, makes me turn my cheek to the hate, makes me focus on the family of lifters who care about happiness on top of many other things.  Grabbing that bar is only the start, a great way to start your day.  I cheers to you, the one who keeps me going, the one who I will some day hopefully meet.  This thing of ours, because that's what it is..... ours, this thing is growing, and it's exciting.

I am 33,000 feet high, and all I can think about is lifting weights. 

Cheers my friend 2016

5 comments:

  1. ditto...SLAM BARS KILL PRS!!!!!!!!!!!

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  2. Jon,
    The A. Nation straps are the best i've ever owned. thanks for the great product. cant wait to buy a kilo creature 2015 t shirt ;)

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  3. The Dark Orchestra is words for the ones who understands the mind of a weightlifter. I will forever tune into your mind before a lift, for it motivates the hell out of me. Never stop doing or writing what comes to mind cause you never know if it might inspire someone else. GOD BLESS

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  4. Fuck yeah Jon. I will be there to see it in 2016. You guys are living fucking legends in my world.

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  5. I only follow two blogs. Yours and a Navy SEAL. You two provide me with all the motivation I need to make it through life. Let the haters hate. They envy and want what you have. Screw em. Slam bars brother.

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