Step on the accelerator, bury the needle and push it through the floor. See what happens. See the blur of lines, colors morphing into streaks that flash before your eyes, the warp speed and hyperdrive of cinema, turning the environment into a blur of beautiful lights streaking before us, pulling us into the future.
I loved feeling the freedom of unleashing those demons… All that anger, hatred, and rage built up in my soul… I am driven by those demons… I have the distinct feeling they may be with me for life, but somehow, are tamed when I am under the barbell.
“I totally understand the need/desire to constantly seek the best within yourself, but doesn’t everyone need a break sometime?” The answer is: sure, when you’re dead—when time has left you in its wake, and continued to move forward without you.
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. My thinking is slightly different on that front: when life gives you lemons, turn them into a prime steak with a fine wine; don’t settle for lemonade.
There on the horizon, behind the curtain,
Lies thunder and lightning, of this I’m certain,
I watch the distance, I watch it dancing,
Delirious fury in lit-skies prancing.
Nobody can give me those moments, nor take them away—they are completely mine, hidden away from the rest of the world. They are not to be interpreted, discussed, or analyzed, merely experienced. “I am ready for whatever’s coming
I have FINALLY engrained it in my head that I need to get stronger on the basic compound movements. Up until this year I have been at the same goddamned strength level for four or five years. This past year, however, I have finally listened to the likes of Dante and Dusty and I have kept a log book and made it PRIORITY NUMBER ONE to get STRONG!!!
You break your body in the gym. The calluses form, sweat streams off of your face, you stink. You look a mess. You eat boring, bland meals. You go without comforts others have daily. You go without relaxation. You go without calm. You long ago gave up on being comfortable. Comfort is for the dead.
Every year at Thanksgiving growing up, I was asked what I am thankful for. And I was baffled by the question. Why be thankful for that which is earned? Why be in awe of the law of causality? Why give special thanks in recognition of the truism that good things generally happen to good people?
My feet hurt!
There will always be a million and one reasons to not play…
There will always be an excuse…
And some will still play. And some will not. And it’s really as simple as that.
Wanna’ play?
…and then we met, my friend, my lover, my wife, my daughter—those with whom I choose to populate my existence. Not my Facebook friends, and not those I “like” with the meaningless click of a button. No, I’m talking the real thing, with real passion, burning sensation and desire that trickles through veins and compels one’s best.
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