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Monday, November 9, 2015

Unspoken Crusaders

New gym, different day.  New faces, same understanding.  Broken bodies, with bloody smiles. Hands of torn with eyes of focus.  Shoulders click as PVC pipes turn.  Coffee flows as the music gets turned the fuck up, creating our adrenaline to boost, rise and spike.  Spite, anger, hate, love, and happiness are some tools we will use to conquer the day.  Along with technique, we will use each other as fuel - misses next to makes equal makes from misses, as each miss makes each athlete want to make each life even more, not just for them, but the fallen lifter laying on the floor.  "Pick him up! Help her out!" One yells from across the gym.  We must keep going, or the gym will win! The doubters will be victors and the haters will rise once again!  Each athlete said nothing, just grabbed the bar and started lifting EVERYTHING! Gym rats unite! Tonight we fight!

Once lost, now found. Once turned off, now physically loud, mentally at peace, and one hundred percent found.  Hate runs through our blood, but now controlled with our new found community.  A raging storm over our heads, simply calmed from the fog that calmly lays around our beds.  Dreaming of better times and forgotten times, goals reached and more obstacles to climb.  As the final goal will never be reached, for this goal is far from the gym and applied only on the "outside".  Once confused, now understood.  Gym rat junkies ready for another fucken round.  A shot of C4 splashes into our coffee, as we Mary our blood and infect others with our passion.  An unspoken relationship of hard work and self pride, is the unspoken relationship of this bar and I.

CrossFit fan spins loud and hard in front of the sliding warehouse door, picking up chalk and flying it around each lifter, like ash from a fire, like a gladiator the night before.  Wrists get wrapped, shoes tied tight, each lifter with a certain number in sight, an hour in and still a fucken fight.  Bounty on weights, while knee wraps wrap tight.  Virus tights like battle armor, as shirtless athletes mentally stay in the fight, while everything else in life slips away and calmly lets go.  Quiet nights are haunted by nightmares from a long time ago, now acting as fuel as each athlete is up for the task, each entering closets of dark only to be met by skeletons from our pasts.  A simple song of understanding, acceptance, and well-being is what an athlete needs to become one strong human being.

You walk up to the PR bar, grab it, and then..........

Crusaders 2016

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