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

Sweet, Sweet Love

I am writing to you from the airport in Phoenix, while on lay over to San Jose where the 10th Attitude Nation Certification is taking place tomorrow! I have been waiting for this video to get uploaded so I could share this over whelming training day with you, my best of friend, here in the Dark Orchestra. (video below)  This Friday, the fire was hot, so I had no choice but to roast marshmallows!  Miss Brown Eyes wanted to make love, and the bar wanted to dance!  Coach was looking extra dapper with his hair styled back and beard so black and promising.  As I started to oil up my tin man body before training, my favorite techno song came skipping along right into my ears down deep into my Weightlifting Soul.  I knew it was going to be a good day, a great day, a day that makes this hell hole of a sport all worth it.  A day of "mom I don't want to leave summer camp, I want to stay longer and play with all the other kids" day.  A day that screams WHEN IS AMERICANS!!   I CAN'T WAIT TO WIN GOLD, MAKE WORLDS, AND BREAK THE AMERICAN RECORDS!!  I feel like a little kid in a candy shop stomping my Ali feet pulling on coaches shirt while whining about how 4 months is too far away.  Screw it, F it, the more I think about it the more I welcome the weight.  It just gives the Attitude Nation more time "PAY OUR TAXES, LOVE OUR WOMEN, AND CRUSH CLEAN AND JERKS"! - Donny Shankle.  

All time PR total!  163kg snatch / 190kg c&j / 353kg total.   Missed 167kg snatch behind me, which is 2 kilos over the American record.  The video doesn't show the second one, but I went after that son of a gun.  Travis Cooper is now officially part of the MDUSA team!  And many more athletes have already signed and are moving out as we speak.  It's going to get crazy!  Salute! 

Miss Brown Eyes 2016

Everything

I almost broke my keyboard to this bad boy

Let's see where it takes me.  Fuck......here we go.  Fuck....buckle your seat belts and lock your doors.  Hold your favorite stuffed animals tight, because the song Shankle gave me today is too much.  Too much to hold back.  Once I flood my body with life juice, fists can fly and emotions can run even higher.  Alice in Wonderland thoughts and Johnny Cash feeling's can get me in trouble.  Stop reading this blog if you don't like to grab life by the throat and hold him high for every one to see!  Stop reading this fucken blog if you don't like ripping the heads off lions!  Raise your glasses and make love to your dreams.  We shall slam our bars all together at the same damn time, creating a more massive shake than the protein in your shaker cup! SLAM YOUR BARS so the normal folks above us can be reminded that our power bellies still move up and down at a fast pace.... .breath, breath, breath....we still live.

Miss brown eyes just grew Batman wings, and the little green monsters are flowing onto my key board like the opening scene in The Lion King.  Wave after wave of sugar sweat people fall from the sky into my mouth.  The taste is electrifying, the rush is heart pumping and cocaine feeling.  I am jacked. I am gone. I am no longer tired.  I am wide awake and ready to kill. I cut the slow people in line to get to the front.  Move, you're in my way.  More sugar!  More caffeine!  More life!  More training!  More Shankle!!!  More you and more medals.  More bloody hands as we wave to all the people who hate us.  Hello to you all!  I wave with a smile as they all throw garbage and rocks through my computer screen, only to be blocked by the bat wing of coffee. The happier we are, the more angry they become.  Who are they? I'll tell you. They are the ones who missed training yesterday.  They are the ones who transform their smooth shiny hands into a cup shaped bowl.  Prisoners of the world! Move out of our way!  I buy milk like it's a sport.  I push the cart to by milk like it's a race.  I park my car, to push my cart, to buy milk like a damn pro.  I get ready at home to park my car, to push my cart, to buy my milk like I am getting ready for a Weightlifting meet. 

We slowly wake. We wake from the once cold, now warm floor of the Dark stage, while the Orchestra of skeletons stand and play songs that lift us from our puddles of tears and depression.  A happy day in the Dark Orchestra, a day of dancing and singing.  A day of heaven, before training casts its hell over us once again.  Before the fog sets in, let's climb the green grassy hill and draw pictures for our mothers.  Pictures of family members holding hands.  Pictures of past dogs and memories that boost our motivation to keep the right stepping and the left following.  Let's fight! Let's have a good day!  No, no, let's have a great fucking day! It's a great day to be alive. Enjoy the happy while it still lasts, before the lights dim, and the trees lose their leaves.  Before the ash will fall, and the music changes from grassy fields to bloody hands and barbells of doom. Enjoy this moment, because training starts soon. 

Batman 2016

Nothing



The song that brought this old race horse to peace 

I am on empty.  I am tired and half confused.  I am beat up and half asleep.  I have buried my head in the sand to see nothing but dark, here nothing but the soulful music of Clint Mansell, and mostly to hide away from the man who makes my body hurt from his name alone, Coach.  Hopefully he wont find me, because if I have to lift another weight I think my body will vanish into a cloud of chalk, never being able to yell Shankle again, or slam a bar down with built up rage and anger.  I am slowly and gently pressing these little black keys while listening to this beautiful song that has my body swaying back and forth like I was playing the piano.  Today was an average Joe day, a put your head down and get through the workout day.  Glory fell short from today's painful escape from reality, as we all took turns lifting like hamsters in a cage fighting over the wheel. The wheel that never damn ends. 

Its raining outside now, which makes the Dark Orchestra that much more peaceful and relaxing.  I needed this, this time with you, this time with miss brown eyes.  So thank you for joining me on such short notice.  Here, I bought you a coffee, drink her down and feel all your stresses and frustrations seep out of your body. Let her take complete control over you, let her wipe away your sadness and anger.  Lean on her when times get hard, drink her when you feel like waving that white flag.  Something the white flag crosses my mind from time to time.  I am not going to lie.  This is a hard sport, a hard lifestyle, a strict and never forgiving world we live in.  Live like others and then some world.  Raise your kids like a pro, make money for your family, and then go above and beyond by beating yourself up on your own free will in a cold gym everyday damn night after dinner.  While others sit back and work on their model ships, watch the night time news,  we throw ourselves down a flight of fucken stairs.  Every damn day we punch ourselves in the head, while others say "ouch" we smile with pride. While others say "stop" we keep going under that bar that knock us back over and over again.  Under, under, under, under, fucken under and then under some more.  It never ends, the pain never leaves, the heartache of wanting something so bad never seems to lighten up. The alien looks at your local grocery store that try so hard to figure out why you have white dust all over your body gets old and fast. Somedays I feel like pulling the Al Pacino bad guy speech on em.  Freaks I tell yea, a group of odd ducks that swim up river not down.  An Orchestra of emotions that beats to our own drumb. 

Its so beautiful outside this green jungle window.  You should see my view right now.  Its one of these nights where the rain has stopped, but the streets are still coverd in water.  Its just dark enough where all the parking lot lights and street lights are reflecting off the wet road, giving the night a blury mix of colors and reflections.  Its a very Christmas December feeling that has come over me.  Fuck I am glad to be alive.  The white flag will never be waved, we are born fighters, period.  Even though I sometimes imagine how life would be if I waved that weak liberal flag.  What would we become if we just quit lifting?  I wonder what life would be like, and how our world would change. What if we stopped beating ourselves up?  Would life then take the bars place and beat us up?  I would much rather be beaten by the always strong bar, than fall pray to this game of life.  would you?  I feel that sometimes doing nothing is something.  I feel that laying around after training tomorrow and watching 10 movies while drooling at the TV screen in my sleeping shorts, eating cheesey puffs, is something this old race horse needs.  I need a nothing day, maybe you do to.  A call in sick day...well after training of course, we don't want to fall victim to the devil in the red dress.  But after training we need to stop, stop for a day and shut the mind and body off.  No emotions, no energy, don't make your bed, don't take the trash out, don't wash your car, just do nothing.  Yes, this is what we need.  This should be a monthly holiday for us warriors, for us old race horses. Let me know how your day of nothing goes, I would love to know. I know this is short notice, so if you cant tomorrow than do it soon.  But then again Attitude Nation....do what you want. AC up! windows down!.....  That would have been a great line to end this blog on, but nope, I guess miss brown eyes has more to say. 

How do I go from a 160 190 day on Friday, and today a everything past 70 damn kilos feels like a semi truck day?  It's like my bar had too much pasta last night and she gained 100 pounds.  I swear this sport makes no sense.  The day you try to figure out this sport is the day you will lose your mind.  Take my word for it.  I have tried, and the next thing I knew I was sleeping in my car talking to myself while popping vicodin pills left and right.  I am so tired.  My wife asked me before I left to come chat with you in the green jungle, "why don't you just relax here and rest your tired body"? I responded with drowsy eyes and rolled over shoulders, while grabbing my right elbow from the massive tendinitis it has.  I said "sweetie, I must write, I must play my violin in the dark hidden from reality world with people who get me, the people who understand what it means to bang your head against a wall all day and then cry while at the same time smiling.  I love you, be back soon."  I love my wife so much I want to cut her head off and carry it around with me everywhere I go.

Well I should probably get back home and enter a dream world full of non weightlifting, full of non existing coaches yelling at me, know body pain, and know white flag thoughts.  Dreams of my mom smiling and laughing.  My mother happy is heaven.  Love you mom, goodnight. 

Mom 2016 

Him

A true story. A story that I just had to re-post. An important story that raises awareness to all athletes. A must tell story that one day could possibly save my life and yours. Don't be "Him". Don't fall for the trick. Don't fall for her beauty. Slam fucking bars and overdose on coffee. Salute. 
It was sad to watch him leave. It truly broke my heart. I wanted to run up behind him and catch him before he disappeared through the front door. The way his head hung low with his droopy eyes and rolled over shoulders showed defeat; he knew it, and I knew it. He is now just another weightlifter who has been killed by rest. Another soldier who has been taken down by the brutal training that will either make you or brake you. Another soldier down. It was as if the sharp rays of the sun striking through the door were pulling him towards the bright outside.

Training was finally over and all the weightlifters seemed to gravitate toward the bench presses and free weights. Lots of grab-assing, laughing, and all around tom-foolery was taking place at this time. Coach joined in and gave a lecture about how we weren't pushing ourselves hard enough in training if we still had all this bull crap energy to fool around with this "curls for the girls" type crap. Everyone laughed and so did coach, but me, I had my eyes and emotions wrapped up in him, him being the soldier who desperately needed a hug. You would of thought I was a part of the crazy loud crowd by the bench, but I really wasn't. I wasn't laughing or grab-assing. I wasn't talking about how big my chest "pump" was, or showing everyone how much I can bench press. I was lost in the lost world of "him." I watched his every move. It has only been a week since he flew into train with us, yes, training has been beyond hell, but already? Is he already breaking down? Is the imagination and temptation of rest getting to him? These were the thoughts that were racing through my head as I watched him slowly walk around the gym picking up his stuff one by one as if he was a prisoner on the chain gang. He grabbed his back with his right hand as if someone just shot him with a paint ball gun. His eyes closed as his pain flowed though the air and hit me right in the face. I felt his pain, as I was once like him. He reminded me so much of myself at that moment, he reminded me of the hell my mind and body went through when I first joined the team and had to adapt to the training. His pain seemed to leave his body as he bent over supporting his weight by resting his hands on his knees. Sweat was dripping down his face like a waterfall. In the first few days of his arrival he was talkative, outgoing, and definitely would have been down here by the bench press messing around. But no, not that day, that day he only had one thing on his mind, and that was rest.

Then it happened, the most amazing thing I have ever seen happened right in front of my chalky face. Rest walked in the front door with her beauty blinding the room with light and love. In shock, I started hitting Tom next to me keeping my eyes locked onto her beauty. I told Tom to "Look, look Tom." But instead of the reaction I though he would give, he simply told me to stop hitting him in the arm and to leave him alone. To my surprise, no one in the gym saw her. They were going on with their everyday business as if nothing was happening. She wasn't walking, but floating across the gym straight toward "him." I stood there like a deer in the head lights, watching rest float across the gym with her smile, comfort, and ease. He saw her and broke down into tears of joy. He put his arms out like a kid wanting to be picked up by his mother. His smile was long and desperate, desperate to be saved by her, desperately wanting to leave this cold dark world that us weightlifters call home. She put out her open hand, and he took it. His eyes were wide open, completely focused on her every move. She smiled at him while pointing at the door behind her. He nodded and returned the smile. Rest started to lead him toward the front door and I knew I would never see him again. He is with rest now. She will take good care of him, or so he thinks. I wanted to say something, or even run up behind him and tell him no, stay with us, don't fall for her beauty. But no, I did nothing. I just stood there watching what others for some reason could not see. I thought for sure he would see her long red pointy tail. I guess her tail blended in well with the color of her red dress, because he did not see it. Then he was gone. He vanished outside into the bright sun never to be seen again. The light vanished and a second later hundreds of rusty black prison bars fell from the sky all around the gym. I was thinking about going with him, but I guess there is no getting out of this hell.

Goodbye him, farewell my friend, it was nice training with you for that short time. Tell rest hi for me and let her know that she might have gotten you, but fuck it, she will never get me.
__________________________________________________________________________________

PR TRAINING TOTAL BELOW!  160kg snatch, 190kg c&j on this Friday's max out day! Oh boy, I can't wait 'til Americans this year.  Oh boy, I want that WORLD TEAM NEXT YEAR!!!!!  More coffee! More training!

In case you missed the last show I threw it up on YouTube.  Steroid talk, more movie talk, lots of weightlifting talk, Shankle speeches made of gold talk, off the block talk, ego talk, and much more talk below. Tune in live every Thursday at 1:00 est. 

AC lifestyle 2016



7 UP

Shankle and I go head to head!  Superman pull + Miss Brown Eyes + Techno music + The Dark Orchestra + Attitude Nation =  PR150kg double from the high hang!  PR 182kg clean pull hang clean and jerk!  This new MDUSA video is awesome!  (below)

THE BEST "WEIGHTLIFTING TALK" YET!

The Dark Knight Rises + Steroids + Ego + What is the meaning of being a Champion? + Depression + Support + Lazy boy + Military + Donny imitating Bane + 7 UP + and MORE!  (link below)

Weightlifting Talk 08/02 by Weightlifting Talk0 | Blog Talk Radio


Coach Pendlay put together this very awesome and interesting video below.  Just another reason why MR Superman pull smokes lifters that out squat me by 30kg. Salute!

7 UP 2016

Gym York

Gym York.

A coffee grave yard that lays rest on the outskirts of this dream town of dirt. 

A city full of lifters and teachers.  Athletes called life drifters.

Addicted green monsters and restless sleepers run the streets full of gifted and motivated believers.

Poisoned by the bar of hopeless thinkers, and bloody hand wishers.

Day dreamers run the town like fucken gangsters who take pray on anyone who stands in their way.

Business meetings settled over who can lift the most weight, move the most weight, and who can handle the most weight.

Board meetings discussed in chalky rooms while three white stripes run down only the people who wear the nicest of suits.

Street lights that always change to white lights, never red.

PR's have replaced money, and bar slamming has replaced anger management classes.

Women aren't the only ones who wear heels. Now the sound of tapping throughout the hallways has doubled. 

Shots of coffee have made driving much safer, while miss brown eyes smiles from all the lives she has saved.

Meth addicts have turned to a new drug called N.O. Explode, that now runs through the black market like a virus, giving the bums and tweekers much more energy to get a fucken job.

All stairs have been replaced by elevators. Why? Well like my first coach Jackie Mah always said, "Weightlifters always take the elevator".

Yes coach!

Dimas now rides high on the Charging Wall Street Bull, as he ever so confidently waves one finger high in the air, while looking off to the side with an ever so bad ass smile.

Everyday is a beautiful day in Gym York.

A great place to live and to grow a family.

A prospering city full of big PR's and lots of opportunity.

A city full of milk parks, protein pools, and coffee lakes.

Techno music plays under the streets, pounding the city with energy and rhythm.

Klokov has eaten the morning rooster then lets out a giant Klokov roar during the morning sunrise; always giving the town's people a boost of morning energy before the techno music starts to pump through their blood.

Rain has been replaced by ash, ash from the many weightlifters who have been burnt alive from this, at times, unforgiving lifestyle.

It is always a sad day when their ashes fall from the sky, landing on our platforms.

A reminder that those ashes could be ours, and the hot flames from this sport could burn us out with no warning at all. 

Always a sad day, but always a move forward day; an on to the next day day.

A weightlifter's day is always filled with a next rep day, a let's fucken do it day, an attack day, a fuck the weak day and let's get strong day. 

A gym zoo full of hungry vampires who don't eat food, but drink the blood from the red kilo plates. 

We are monsters.

We have been abandoned for too long.

This is why my blog must come true, and we must start our own world.

A weightlifters world. 

A city called Gym York world. 

Kendrick Farris 2012
Sarah Robles 2012
Holly Mangold 2012