Phantom

I wonder what kind of blog this one will be.  How will I make these words dance today?  Will it be a happy Irish jig, or a slow dance to a sad song?  I want this symphony of words to be a master piece, legendary and unforgotten.  Hey Beethoven wait for me, I want to join you.  I wave my coffee in the air composing a thousand buttons that push their hearts out.  An orchestra of crescendos, that strictly depends on my mood.  A thousand white eyes are looking for more, as they hover in the black air.  The world has stopped around me, as the violin creates pink elephants that dance in my head.  Memories of my child hood play in a wave of coffee that carries me out deeper into my subconscious.  As the music picks up I start to rise.  Now I fly with the storks.  It’s a good feeling dropping off little weightlifting babies to their mothers down below.  There is a dark stage wearing one black dress, playing one black piano as soft as an angel.  I have no idea how she got there, or even where "there" is.  This world is filled with brick houses lined up for miles that all look exactly the same.  Have you ever woke up on a farm in the middle of the night, and couldn't find your parents?  Have the trees at night ever made patterns that scared you when you were a kid?  This is a concert of all things that you are still unsure of to this day. What did you really see?  And where were you when this all happened?  I dream when I write, so I love to write.  I sing with a mask on, and I hide in my blog.  This concert hall is so quiet at night once you have all left.  When a pen drops, I hope it’s you coming back for me.  I patiently wait ‘til I can compose again, so you will float down and join me.  I feel alive once you are with me, and suicidal once you have left.  I am the green blinking light on your computer while you sleep, just in case you wake and can’t find me.  I am here for you whenever you need me.

My orchestra is filled with skeletons and angels.  They play happy songs that make me write beautiful things. The skeletons sometimes turn my symphony into a painful memory of sadness.  At night it gets worse when you are not around.  As you read this you become more confused. The reason being is because you have entered my insane mind.  To become a weightlifter you must already be crazy.  To stick with this sport you must be out of your mind.  Maybe that's why you are attracted to my twisted dark symphony.  You are just as crazy as I am. You clap, when most people would run.  You are the phantom that appears, but then you leave me all alone.  Please stay with me and train.  Let’s write together and become best friends.  My dad left me....so will you be my new one?  This blog can be your new home. Your seat is 24b, enjoy the show.  Phantom 2012    

Devil In a Red Dress

She looks so tempting with her silky red dress and her plump red lips.  Her almond shaped eyes are half covered from her long black eye lashes, which seem to bring you in closer every time she blinks.  Her long finger dances back and forth telling you to come closer.  The slit that rides up the side of her dress cries out to hurry.  You are brain washed by her breasts, by her comfort, by her smell.  She walks backwards into the room while her eyes stay locked onto your nailed-open eyes.  She enters her room, and sits on her red heart-shaped bed.  She gently pats the mattress on the side of her right leg, telling you to sit by her.  The fire place is roaring with flames.  There is a warm meal cooking in the kitchen, and now she starts to undress.  You never want to leave this warm house.  You don’t really know where you are but you like it.  It’s like a dream where only some of it makes sense, but the other half is just black and blank.  You are now lying in her arms like a kid that just scraped his knees.  You have completely surrendered to her, you are now hopeless and love lost.  Her name is your body and she is the devil in the red dress.  

You just made love to the devil without even knowing it.  Her sharp red tail is actually your tail that is now wrapped around your throat.  Your training is being suffocated.  She has locked you away forever into a world of comfort.  She has taken your soul and thrown it in the fire.  She has taken your dreams and swallowed them whole.  You listened to her when you should have trained.  She walked you into your own downfall.  She made you quit the good fight, for her comfort and sex appeal.  Her horns were covered by her dark hair. Her smile was a tattoo on her face so you would make love to her.  It worked.  Now you are a prisoner of your own body.  She is the gingerbread lady and you eat all the candy because it was good at the time.  But afterword’s you are a prisoner.  Your own body has tricked you. 

I promise your body will adapt to the hard training.  Taking days off only make you more sore and run down for the next time you train.  It’s a doubled-edged sword.  You think you are being nice to your body by resting, but you are only hurting it.  Your body must be trained like a dog to hunt....to train.  You have to let your body understand that it’s a weightlifting machine, and by training 6 days a week, it will understand with a smile on its face. Yes it will take time, but so does training your dog to sit. Now if I even take Sunday off,  I can’t move on Monday.  My body gets confused.  Now Sundays are bar work days.  Now every day is training day.  Kill the devil and never let her take your soul 2012

Behind The Gym

Behind the gym is where I smile.  Behind the gym is where Donny and I both smile.  Behind the gym is a happy place, a place where we can finally breathe.  A place where apples and oranges the size of our fists grow on every tree.  We our sheltered by lines of shade from the trees that bend over the top of us, as if they were ease dropping.  There are cows that sit right next to us.  Green pastures as far as the eye can see.  Smells that will make your nose twitch and your eyes water.  The smoke sometimes stays motionless right in front of my eyes.  Creating patters as if there was a small Indian making smoke signals on my nose.  Donny is still talking about how he thought training went, and I am just glad to be out of the gym, even though I can still feel the wall shake from the weights dropping.  The air I inhale is not just air, but a cloud of relaxation that gives me peace; Intel the Indian makes his smoke signal again. I love this fort, this getaway, this little world Donny and I built together.  I think I might make a no girls allowed sign and have a secrete hand shake just to get in.  The pressure, the negative forums, and the training, would all take me under like the Titanic if it wasn’t for this beautiful alley behind my gym.  Shankle Just picked an apple off the tree, asked me what I thought about Asian women, and then took a bite with power and conviction…..this man means business. 

There is a half broken old chair that sits in the alley, in my eyes it’s a golden thrown only for the man who has the most achievements in this sport.  Donny sits in the chair and I sit on the rocky ground.... that I have to say, is always very comfortable.  Hopefully someday I can sit in that chair, while Shankle looks up to me.  I guess that’s going to take more training days, more alley getaways, more Pendlay, and more hell.  I guess I will have many more days and nights chatting with Donny on the ground about training.  Don’t tell him, but when is he not there I sometimes sit on the chair with my head held high.  I always feel like a bad ass.  Hey maybe if you ever come out to Cal Strength and visit Donny and I,  you can learn the secrete hand shake and breath the peaceful air in the ally I call home.  Just remember, Shankle gets the chair.  Behind the gym 2012

Dream

Sleep well my weightlifting child, for you have a big day ahead of you.  Let your chalky mind wonder in a world of magic and peace.  Sleep for a good ten hours.  Dream about something besides weightlifting, because you will be attacked by it the minute you wake up.  Buy your ticket to dream land and leave this world for the night.  It is your time to escape, and enter a place where you can lay by the beach and ride unicorns with Dimas.  A place where the bar can't find you, a place where coach doesn’t exists.  A place where you can hang out with your Dad again, play monster with your step sisters again, and see your old friends who you have lost over the years.  Sleep is the best thing God ever invented, right next to sitting in the hot tub while snow falls.  A weightlifter needs at least 10 hours of sleep, like Donald trump needs his money.  There is no other option.  If you are not a soldier of weightlifting then stay up late and get your 4 or 5 hours.  But if you are a fighter of the barbell, then you must rest the body for battle, you must rest your mind for complete focus and concentration.  Tomorrow will be hell, so get ready. 

The barbell just sits there waiting for you.  The weights never sleeps.  The barbell and the weights stay up all night plotting on how they are going to beat us.  They are on no program besides kicking our ass.  They max out every day so we must do the same. While we sleep they occasionally play poker and smoke cigars.  They study the blue print of the weightlifters destruction.  They write to other barbells in other country's making sure they are all on the same plan.  They laugh and high five one another when a weightlifter gets hurt. They are an army of the steel, and they will stop at nothing.  We must get our sleep to fight back; we must never stop slamming them down, throwing them over our heads, and shankle kicking them when we miss a lift.  Punch em in the teeth and roar like a lion!   The Attitude Nation will not back down! 

For now you dream with a smile on your face.  You are safe when under the covers, as if your mom just tucked you in.  The house is quiet, the coffee machine is silent, the fan turns with rhythm, and a light from a car lights up your room just for a moment, but you don’t wake. You are too far gone in your dream land.  Sleep tight young weightlifter, for you have many battles ahead of you.  Sleep 2012

Freedom

Sunny but crisp, that’s the perfect weather.  Your freezing car in the morning doesn’t stop you from slightly rolling your window down while driving.  Even though your heater is on, you must take in the day; you must smell the smells and feel the wind.  You must wake up for the day, for you are a soldier of life and it’s time to attack. You are free, thank you America.  Thank you to all our troops.  Freedom is beautiful thanks to them.  Thank you Donny for not only being my mentor, but protecting this great country from your service as a Marine.  There are many days I feel bad for not joining the good fight.  All this freedom, and I havn't even fought for it.  I just might join before I get to old. I must fight with my brothers and sisters, I need to earn my freedom. 

I pull over for some gas.  I pump and stand, and so does everyone else.  We are all motionless like horses getting ready to be shot out from the gate, it’s a race and I am ready coach.  "Click", the pump stopped and I win.  See you liberals later, the attitude nation is out of here!  Next stop.......Green Jungle.

The green Jungle knows me by name, and they know I have a nation behind me by the sound of a thousand marching boots that follow me around side by side.  No one can see them but me, but people can feel there presents.  I kiss my coffee, and then exit.  Move buddy, I have training soon.  Move little old lady, I am a selfish weightlifter who needs to make the Olympics.  No time bum, get a job.......well ok here is two bucks. 

I pull up to my second home and park down the street.  My boss Dave Spitz doesn’t like when we take up the parking spots for the parents and high school kids, and I always do what my boss says.  I am a good Cal Strength soldier.  I walk into the gym and now I am safe from this crazy world.  I slap many hands, hug a hand full, only listen to a few, salute the Nation, salute the Cal strength logo, and touch the rings on the wall.  Now I am ready for what I am good at....training.  Attitude Nation salutes the men in women in service, thank you for giving me the opportunity to do what I do.  Military 2012

local meets and more excuses

Your excuses are cancer to my ears.  Leave me be.  Take your weak mind somewhere else; take your defeat out of my gym.  I see people like you everywhere I go like infected zombies walking around, just living, and hiding away when the sun is out.  The only reason why you tell me you want to train is because you feel better about yourself just for asking, just for wanting.  You want to be a weightlifter but you have no idea what it takes.  You have no idea what hard work is. You have no idea what those two balls are for.  If another person tells me they want to become a weightlifter and then gives me 10 reasons why they cant right now, I will just walk away from you.  You disgust me, you sicken me, I don’t understand your species and I will not let you infect my life with your sickness.  Don’t e-mail me, don’t call me, stop telling me your goals and then not show.  Don’t you dare play your violin in front of me, I don’t listen to that type of nonsense and just because your hamstring is tight does not mean you cant train, it means you are a pussy.  Here is your refund, now go away.  What did I ever do to you?  You contacted me, and now you give me the run around like I am a door to door salesman. 

I was going to write this blog about local meets and the importance of them.  I was going to write about how a weightlifter should compete as much as possible, but my phone and e-mail keep over loading with zombies, they are breaking into my mom’s house in Oregon.  I will not let them get to my mom and wife.  I will fight them off by removing them from my life.

 Its dark and everyone is asleep.  I am still drinking coffee, and I keep going outside to have my fire stick.  I pace back and forth outside thinking about training, nationals, my future, more training, and why these people love harassing me with their excuses.  I put out my fire stick and go back to typing to you, to the Attitude Nation, the only people who seem to get me.  I trained great today at the Crossfit gym, it was fun.  I competed in every meet I could get my hands on.  I traveled far and long to compete, to become someone, to make it, to get better and someday…….well, end up where I am now.  It worked.  I always say that weightlifting is like dating.  If you ask 100 girls out on a date, at least one will go out with you.  Just like weightlifting, if you always swing for the fences and always compete, you will soon win that gold. 

I lived dead broke for more than a year in this sport.  I slept in my car, struggled for change to eat at McDonald’s, and ran out of gas many times. You can bet your bottom dollar I was at every meet though, lifting my ass off.  I fought everyday to lift and compete.  I dropped out of school to lift weights, I became homeless to lift weights, I did everything in my power to compete.  I had no excuses, well actually I had a bunch but I never mentioned them, I just lifted the barbell.  I wanted to make it so bad, I wanted to be good more than ever.  All I wanted was to win a gold medal at a local meet.  I wanted people to notice me and respect me.  I wanted to make something of my life.  So there I was, some raggedy kid who wanted fame and fortune.  A kid who wanted success, a kid who wanted to be a champion, a kid who would have done anything to get where he is now.  I competed at every meet there was, and I still do.   How bad do you really want it, how far will you really go?  Now I eat steak in my big house, with a fancy bank account that buys me lots of gas, and my very first local gold medal that sits high on my desk.  To all you zombies out there, leave me alone.  Goodnight.  Local meets 2012 

Family

I am back home in Oregon with my family for New Year’s.  Bend, Oregon is so beautiful, a place I can see myself settling down in after I retire from this sport.  It is so good to see my family; it is so good to be home.  It is weird being away from my platform, my gym, my coach and my team.  I wonder how my small lonely corner of the gym is doing.  I wonder if it misses me.  Looking at my life from outside looking in is a very different picture and feeling.  I woke up abruptly this morning, and for a split second I thought that the last four years was a dream, and I never left home.  I thought I was still in high school and was late for football practice.  What has happened to me?  How did I end up here?  Is California Strength real?  Am I really that crazy guy on YouTube?  Is the legendary coach Pendlay really my coach?  There is no way I was actually on the USA team with the Donny Shankle.... impossible.  I soon realized that my dream wasn’t a dream, it was real.  I figured out who I was when Coach texted me, asking how my workout went.  Holy moly.... I really am a Cal Strength soldier.  I stayed motionless in bed staring at the ceiling fan, trying to piece everything together so it all made sense to me.

Laugh, eat, hugs, smiles, and more laughs.....this is what I have been doing for the last few days, and I never want to leave.  It feels nice talking to family and friends about other things rather than the usual weightlifting talk.  I remember sitting back and watching them all talk about everything from their businesses, kids, homes, and the local schools.  I realized that none of my family knows anything about my world; my world to them is a far away galaxy full of wonder and assumptions.  I might as well have jumped on a space ship and flew to another planet.  To them I am just Jonny Boy, nobody else.  They don’t care how much I lift, what meet I won or lost, or what training program I am on getting ready for nationals.  I am the little boy who said twuck instead of truck, not a 166kg snatcher.   

Writing this blog has made me realize that I don’t live here, I don’t work for my family's business, I don’t compare grass fertilizer with the neighbors, I don’t ride dirt bikes, I don’t fit in.  Their blood is red, mine is green.  They do fun stuff on the weekends, I am not allowed to. They talk a lot; I am in pain a lot. I now remember that I am a weightlifter. Weightlifting misses me, and I miss it.  I train tomorrow at central Oregon Croosfit in Redmond, great people, great gym.  My Grandpa Poppy loves to go with me and watch.....but then ends up chatting everyone’s ear off!  I love him.  He is the hardest working man I ever met.  Training with new people is always exciting and motivating for me, I wish we did it more often, but the leash is tight around my neck.  Tonight I will wear my Santa Clause sweater, switch the Adidas sweats for khakis, talk golf, and then say goodnight.  Tomorrow I will wake up ready for war. I will wake up a weightlifter.  I will march again with the attitude nation.  Family 2012