Seattle Space Needle

I sleep on my back dreaming about the red balloon movie we used to watch when we were kids. You know, the one about the kid who chases a red balloon all around town. I don't remember how the movie ends. Hopefully he finds it. A sleeping mind and body is the best thing God ever invented. I want to go on record on this. Right behind going to the bathroom when you really have to go. Thank you, Lord. No NyQuil tonight, no sleeping pills, just good old fashion natural sleep.  A place where even the toughest of warriors like to spend their time.  2 am, a time where your house comes alive, giving you enough time to escape to the top of the Seattle Space Needle with your dad. A dream that never gets old. My arms spread wide to a once called father. A man that was once my everything. A father who would make my world from just one look of approval.   His masterful presence grew my eyes 10 feet wide.  His voice gave me instant comfort, and his smell gave me a feeling of safety I cannot explain through this damp key board.   A man that has left me with a stomach of sadness. Pain that drips down the back of my throat like the cocaine "drip" after a long night of forgetting. I closed my eyes from excitement as I started to laugh for no reason before we hugged on that cold and windy space needle. Why do we laugh for no reason as kids? Maybe from the overwhelming excitement.  Right before we hugged, I woke up fast in a sweaty panic. I looked around the my room trying to make sense of things. I was sweating so much that it looked as if I wet the bed.  My dad and I must have splashed into each other before I woke, because I started throwing up all over myself.   I ran to the bathroom and bundled around the toilet as my wife played with my hair.  Hours and hours of vomiting. Hours of trying to figure out what my dream meant.  Sicker than a dog, sicker than a kid who misses his father. They are calling what I have the flu, but I think it's much more than that. My skin is pale, my body weight has dropped, and the cold sweats actually feel good against my hot skin. I have been wanting to write the last few days, but my mind has been nothing but mush.  24 hours of sleep and dreams.  24 hours of no recollection on what day or time it is.

I rolled out of bed and brewed a pot of tea..... yes, tea.  I don't want miss brown eyes seeing me like this. Now I am writing to you in my robe with black circles around my eyes. This is why I will not be on the live feed today.  This is why I have nothing motivating to write about.  I am just glad I have enough energy to join you again in this black hole we call the Dark Orchestra.  Without training, I feel empty.  I feel alone with no purpose. Take weightlifting away and I am nothing.  Just a schmuck that now has to tuck his tail and walk in line with the rest of the herd.  I must bleed 2016, for the Olympics cannot wait a another day. I must get better asap.  Again, I am sorry for my absence the last three days. I guess no matter how many squats you do, the flu can still get to you. Well, I am off to bed again. I just wanted to take whatever energy I have to say, hi. Yes, I guess this is somewhat of a sympathy post. Of course it is, everyone knows that when you are sick you have the right to mope around and feel sorry for yourself.   I guess if we look at the glass half full, being sick has its benefits. At the end of the day, chicken noodle soup and orange juice delivered to you in bed while your hot bath is being drawn is not such a bad thing after all.  Don't worry coach, I will be back stronger than ever on Friday.  Let the rookies on the team know that their last few days on top of the hill will soon be over. 

I got shot by the Sniper in this video. I went for 140kg hang snatch for a set of five, but on the last rep he got a head shot. Damn snipers.

Rio 2016