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Monday, March 10, 2014


I guess sometimes I lose my times in a state of depression for no real apparent reason, and times in a state of rage.  Rage on those who ever doubted me, rage on those who hurt me, and rage against the single piece of metal that has hurt so many of my close friends.....the bar.  I sometimes lose my mind in a stage of excitement.  A sudden burst of insanity fuels my heart with hope to one day become the man I never saw myself being so many years ago. A solo piece of happiness that whispers in the back room of a meet, that one day I could be a great father, teaching my kids everything that I have learned, and most importantly...what not to do. Yes, some hate me and most disagree, but for those that stand with's all worth it.  For those who get me, I get them.  Yes I slam bars, and yes I like drinking coffee, but most importantly I say no to all the things that have crippled me, a no to those who once surrounded me.  Drugs are a far away world, as coffee reminds me of the path I am on.  Guiding me to the stage where skeletons of my past look on.  I play my violin to not forget....but to never hide the feelings that once shadowed myself from myself.  The coming down was always the worst.  A living room with no furniture spoke thoughts of reality, as the light from the rising sun peaking though the shades made my pale skin feel warm, as my teeth chattered from the cold room.  My back against the wall, as my knees held my chin.  I am death; I am nothing; I am a slave to the crystals that fill my soul.  I am scum on earth that chooses easy rather than hard.  I simply do not excuse me if I now choose to live.

My eyes heavy from up all nights and long talks.  Talks about so many goals and dreams that truly only live in smoke rings.  Smoking a cigarette to the butt....only means you're not done with the nicotine rush. Yes this morning might be here, but I am no where near facing what I have become. As the fan turns like the bar, only in this chapter of my life it turns in fear.  I remember crying in the bathroom as my ribs would stick out from my side, eyes so dark and wide you would think I wasn't alive.  If you have been down this path you know about the itching that takes place, for skin only falls when the smoke fills your space.  Every flake would shed a tear, as I hoped no one heard my sniffling from near.  Hanging with a crew like never showed weakness......funny looking back.....that's all we were, weak.   I lose my mind from time to time, only to find it in a better place than before.  When this mind is lost this body is weightless, the only thing heavy is the weights I lift.  My past is heavier than any bar, as my past skeletons are my coach....rooting me on from afar. So sue me if I slam this bar, or kick me out from this family I once thought was mine.  The talk chatters at night that things are already in order for leaving me outside.  What they don't understand is the dark is what I like.....the only thing that truly scares me is the sunlight.  I write alone in this dark room I call home.  A part of me still lives in the past, but I choose this, for my past has turned into you, as gold medals fill my room.  Without the dark I would have never seen the lights on the stage, walking out to a bar is my freedom from being a slave.  If you don't think empty living rooms with smoked filled clouds is being a slave..... then you have never saw the sun creep in through the shades.  My friend......weightlifting is heaven, as blue skys fill my cheeks with smiles and cries.  I guess the character from Training Day nailed it to my surprise.

This is a blog about the person you are.  I am me, you are you.  Our skeletons have different pasts as our training room might play different tunes. For those that shun our light, our sun.....they are the ones who live everyday not knowing where they come from.  Accept your past, don't fight yourself, get to know your skeletons at last.  Your past is you and you are truly strong and true.  I am me and with you we are, me and the skeletons make three.

Weightlifting is my love.....but my wife is my life.  My dogs are my heart.  My future kids are my blood....and you the reader are my understanding and my teammate...not in weightlifting but in life we fight.  You and I can achieve anything believing and I.

Don't change.  I will not.  I have never forgot what the dark as done to my has made me happy, and introduced me to my wife.

I love you, Jessica.

1 comment:

  1. Jon, you are an amazing writer and such an inspiration, not only in the weight room, but in life. We must embrace our past in order for us to embrace our future. As we struggle under the bar, in the rack, in our minds, then are we able to grow. Much love, keep slamming bars.