Priorities

It's funny to think about the things we value in life. For most, value is strictly monetary related. How nice of a car you drive, the location and size of your house, the places you go out to eat, the designer clothes in your closet. For some, worth has less to do with money... at least I have a car that runs, at least I have a warm bed to come to every night, at least we could gather everyone together for this Thanksgiving meal, at least my shoes fit.

And then for some, value only has to do with importance. Can I make it to the bus stop in time to not lose my job? Will there be an open bed for me at the shelter tonight? Can I collect enough money on this street corner to buy a loaf of bread today? Will I be able to find a coat for the winter?

I remember loving Christmas when I was little. My sister and I would wake up and run downstairs, the banister lit up and wrapped with lights and festive garland. Our parents would sit with us in their pajamas, handing out boxes filled with the latest toys and gadgets we had been hoping so badly for. We'd rip apart boxes and stick bows on our foreheads, being disappointed occasionally with gifts of new jeans and t-shirts.

And then we got older and times got tougher. Not so many presents, less expensive presents and eventually no presents at all. I remember not despising the season because we lacked gifts, but because we lacked the happiness. The things I miss weren't the fancy electronics, the latest video games or the Christmas trees... I just miss the feelings. The laughter, the smiles, the false sense of stability.

Because when you're young, your parents often do a great job of not letting you realize things. Children don't realize that the Easter Bunny isn't real, or that Santa at the mall was just some old man trying to make an extra dollar. They also don't understand what it means to "not have the money" and they sure as hell don't understand words like divorce and foreclosure. As children we're just focused on the important things, like if we're getting that new bike or baseball bat for Christmas.

In today's day and age we must impress in order to be a success. We have to flaunt our cash, buy things we know we can't afford, lest we look like fools not keeping up with the Jones'. We spend ridiculous amounts of cash on things that hold no true value because those are the things we're conditioned to believe matter... the things that show we're doing just fine. We care less about our company and more about the quantity and quality of our gifts. You jump in your 2013 BMW on your way home from brunch and notice the intern enviously staring as you drive away but fail to notice the disappointment in your wife's face as you leave without giving her a kiss or sincere I love you each morning... priorities.

I just wish I would've grown up dirt poor. I wish my parents would have been able to afford nothing more than an action figure, that one I really wanted. I wish they would have lectured me on how it wasn't cheap but they got it because they knew it would make me smile so much my face would hurt. Because I would have never let that fucking thing go... until that day when I'd lose it. Because I'd spend that entire day crying, that was the only thing I had... the only thing I loved. And then hopefully my parents would sit me down and let me know how big of a sacrifice that was for them and how I wouldn't be getting another one unless I saved the money to get it myself.

I wish they'd lecture me on how it was just a goddamn toy. About how you should never love a fucking toy more than you love the person who made the sacrifice to get it for you. The person who was working 80 hours a week. The person who'd literally shovel shit in the Sahara just to put food on the table and a roof over your head. The person that hurt more than you when you lost that toy because it was so goddamn expensive but they knew it would make you smile, and now it was gone... money pissed down the pot.

I wish they would've caught me trying to steal a new toy at the store and I wish they would've beaten my ass 50 shades of black and blue with a belt and then given me a round 2 once I finally healed. I wish they would've never bought me another toy ever again. I wish they would've given me a stick and some tape... and told me to make my own fucking action figure.

And then I'd try to... and maybe it would somewhat look like a stick person, and maybe it wouldn't... but I'd use my imagination. And I'd see the beauty my mind was capable of creating and then I'd eventually make a stick figure action figure for each one of my parents. And then I'd see them cry... and then, maybe then I'd realize that I finally fucking figured it out. That my gift was that of happiness, of a smile on their face... it was a gift of simplicity, nothing fancy or expensive and maybe even free... but something to make them realize how much I appreciate their sacrifices.

We complain so goddamn much and appreciate so fucking little until it all starts to slip away. To have a bed and a roof over your head is such a fucking blessing, yet we solely concern ourselves with its extravagance. We have people in our lives who care about us but we take it for granted and treat them like dirt. We refuse to care about the essentials until we find ourselves on the street, bundled with matted comforters shivering under a bridge... all alone and wondering where it all went wrong.

The only, ONLY thing I want for Christmas and this upcoming year is to never forget to appreciate the bare minimum. To always appreciate friends and every little act of kindness they show. To soak in every kiss and get lost in that someone's eyes every chance I get. To let my mom and sister know how much I care about them every single fucking day. To not care about the price of the shirt and just be happy it's keeping me covered. To just be happy I've got shoes on my feet and food in my belly, helping me to make the best of the day ahead.

You can never appreciate the important things in your life too much. There's nothing scarier than knowing you're strong but feeling weak and helpless... and sometimes right when everything seems to be coming together it can feel like the very foundation is ripped from right underneath you. But in the end, you just have to try your best to remember what's important, you've have to trust you've built a firm foundation within yourself. Strip a man to his bare essentials, strip away the false comforts and you'll see a frightened little boy 99% of the time... I'm gonna be that 1%, no matter how scary it may feel at times. Lord knows it sure as hell feels scary right now, time to face the tide.

Befriending The Boogeyman

Sink or swim, there's no better way to go through life. Nine out of ten people will dip their foot in the water to see how cold it is before they jump in, but I refuse to be one of those people. I prefer the mad ones, the ones that calmly remark "fuck it" and jump out into the unknown. The ones that emerge out of the water gasping for air, swearing at the top of their lungs how cold it is, heckling their friends to stop being such pussies and get in.

It's about committing to the moment, whatever that moment may entail. It's about pain and pride, heartache and happiness. What a wasted life it would be to not explore the vast array of emotion and feelings this world has to offer.

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." - Emerson

I've learned to enjoy pain, to enjoy the dark moments, to look forward to the unknown... to embrace it with open arms. To take every negative as a lesson rather than a punishment. To find happiness that today's pain will bring tomorrow's wisdom. To know that today's misfortunes are tomorrow's opportunity to become something better.

There's nothing I enjoy more than watching people suffer through a workout. It doesn't matter how good or bad the workout goes as long as they fully commit to it... because the amount of character built during those precious moments cannot be measured. I've seen people collapse to the ground in complete exhaustion, I've seen people get punched in the face repeatedly and continue to move forward, I've seen people do the "impossible", I've seen people grab their fears by the throat, smile and calmly whisper "bring it, bitch".

I choose to embrace my fears in all aspects of life. To ask that girl out on a date nobody thinks I have a chance with, to apply for that job that has 500 applicants even if they're only hiring one, to stand up for something I find unjust even if only leads to ridicule from the vast majority.

Non Timebo Mala

Our time on Earth is limited, limiting ourselves to only experiencing what is comfortable, fun and easy is simply not acceptable. Challenge yourself to be scared, to take chances. Stand in front of The Boogeyman, whatever he may represent to you and tell that little bitch, "let's dance".

Making Henry Proud

I'm thankful I woke up this morning. I'm thankful I have a bed to sleep in every night. I'm thankful I have multiple blankets to cocoon myself with when it gets chilly out. I'm thankful I can set my thermostat however high or low I want because there's some people out there without heat, without beds, without homes.

I'm thankful my parents tell me they love me every single day. I'm thankful my parents have never given up on me. I'm thankful my parents disciplined me from a young age, that I grew up knowing what "tough love" was. I'm thankful I've always had support from my parents in all my endeavors because they're people out there who have never met their parents, who lost them at an early age or who weren't lucky enough to have them around like I have.

I'm thankful I have a gorgeous sister. I'm thankful she's a beautiful person, both inside and out. I'm thankful she's smart and willing to help a simple guy like myself when I have a brain fart. I'm thankful she could be thousands of miles away but still check up on me whenever possible just to make sure I'm okay because there's some people who don't feel they have anyone they can talk to.

I'm thankful there's always bacon in my house. I'm thankful I have a job that can afford me aforementioned bacon. I'm thankful I can help cook a filling meal tomorrow with my family and I'm thankful that if we somehow lost everything we owned tonight that there's soup kitchens around that would do their best to fill our bellies and help remind us how there's always hope.

I'm thankful I have a car that can get me from point A to point B. I'm thankful the heat works in the winter and the A/C in the summer. I'm thankful I drove a purple 1998 Ford Windstar minivan that had no rear view mirror in high school so that I learned to appreciate the finer things in life instead of being high-maintenance.

I'm thankful I'm healthy. I'm thankful I never let booze and drugs overtake my life. I'm thankful I partied but learned that there's hundreds of thousands of other ways to have fun without having to be fucked up on a consistent basis. I'm thankful I learned good nutrition. I'm thankful I appreciate my body and what it looks like. I thankful I have no shame in walking around naked.

I'm thankful I have quality friends. I'm thankful I can be their "Dr. Phil" when they need someone to vent to. I'm thankful I have friends who will drop whatever they are doing at a moment's notice to be there if I'm in trouble. I'm thankful I have guy friends who I consider brothers and female friends who I consider to be as close as little sisters. I'm thankful I realize family doesn't always mean blood related. I'm thankful I've learned the difference between hearing someone talk and listening to someone.

I'm thankful I find ways to laugh and smile each and every day. I'm thankful to realize there's no such thing as bad days, only bad moments. I'm thankful I've learned to appreciate those bad moments and painful situations for the lessons they can teach us. I'm thankful I can find the beauty in each and every day.

I'm thankful I've learned to live with my heart on my sleeve. I'm thankful I've learned to take chances with love. I'm thankful I've been treated like shit before because it's taught me what I deserve and to never settle. I'm thankful I realize that beauty is only skin deep.

I'm thankful there's still women out there who don't put out on the first date. I'm thankful I've learned that there's a big difference between having sex with someone and making love to them. I'm thankful there's still women out there who appreciate men who are gentlemen. I'm thankful there's still women who expect men to act with chivalry. I'm thankful there's still women who realize chivalry doesn't just mean being bought.

I'm thankful there are men out there who choose to challenge the status quo. I'm thankful some of us who still open doors, who aren't scared of trying yoga, who can bake a mean sweet potato pie and who can still lay a mean hit on someone in a pickup football game. I'm thankful there's some of us out there who don't automatically label things as "gay" or "stupid" just because they're different. I'm thankful there's some of us who challenge ourselves to the renaissance man lifestyle.

I'm thankful I know my strength, and not just in the physical sense. I'm thankful I've learned the power of words and to choose them wisely. I'm thankful I've learned how big such a small gesture as offering a helping hand can be. I'm thankful I've learned to let go of the things weighing me down. I'm thankful I've learned men can still shed tears and be emotional. I'm thankful I've learned that it doesn't matter how many times you fall as long as you find the will to stand back up.

I'm thankful I've learned to truly appreciate the holidays and to not just look at them as a day to eat lots of food or stand in line for hours in order to buy cheap toys and gifts. I've thankful I could lose every possession I own today but still be happy knowing there's still so much I have. I'm thankful I've learned what Thoreau meant by, "... drive life into a corner, and rude it to its lowest terms". I'm thankful I've learned to keep everything in life simple. I'm thankful I've made my life my Walden.

Suffer In Silence

When I was younger I injured my shoulder playing baseball. Before the setback I was playing on four different teams at the same time, I was pretty good and was trying to get my name better known in the area before my first high school season started. I was on second base during a big game in a travel tournament in Wisconsin when I took a Jackie Robinson-esque lead that was big enough to make the pitcher decide to attempt to pick me off. Unfortunately, neither of his middle infielders covered the bag and the ball nailed me in the arm instead of a glove.

I finished the game (first bonehead move) before heading to the doctor the next day. "You need to rehab this once a day for the next 3 months." Unfortunately, I was young, and dumb and stubborn... qualities that can be a blessing one day and a curse the next. So I thanked her, stuck the paperwork in my backpack and headed to practice, albeit I was 10 minutes late.

I still feel the consequences of my decision to this day, some of which I am oddly enough thankful for. Because of my grit at such a young age, I got called up to varsity by the time playoffs rolled around my freshman year. Because of my dumb decision, I was ready to cry like a schoolgirl during some of my workouts this past week. And because of my stubbornness, I am a far better athlete today than I ever could have imagined.

Pullups, toes to bar, handstands, it all sucks. Weighing in at over 200 pounds, seeing anything on the whiteboard that involves gymnastics movements or shoulder blasting exercises puts me in a "I just got dumped at prom" depression. Big men like myself shouldn't be doing cardio or gymnastics of any form, lest you want to see a grown man cry... but I do them every day anyways.

BLUE, YOU'RE MY BOY!

One of the greatest lessons I learned in recent years was to "suffer in silence", an idea first introduced to me while I was participating in my first Goruck challenge, an endurance event ran by former military special operations instructors. 13 hours and almost 23 miles later, I had gotten pushed passed my limits both mentally and physically. The physical wounds were evident, broken metatarsal bones in both of my feet, terrible shin splints and chaffing out the wazoo near my yohoo.

And although when I woke up most people would think I was relieved it was all finally done, all I felt was anger. Because although I was in pain there were plenty of people in my class in far worst condition than I... and they didn't bitch during it. Instead of making excuses, instead of taking the easy way out, instead of side stepping opportunity for growth, they put their heads down and trudged forward. I felt as though I had failed my team and I decided from that day forward to find some testicular fortitude and learn how to harden the fuck up.

No matter your exercise regiment, you will ultimately have to do things you dislike and some stuff you absolutely hate if you ever expect to get better. Whether it be tough workouts, sticking to a nutrition plan, no free time on weekends due to your competition schedule, whatever. Nobody ever said achieving your idea of peak physical fitness would be fun or easy. And although many people claim to be dedicated to this life, few truly are.

Less time whining, more time nailing the prom queen

Being dedicated means waking up early to put in that extra work before the sun comes up. It means closing down the gym even though you just got off of a long, hard day at work. It means ordering a salad when you meet up with your friends who are all scuffing down burgers & fries. It means going to bed early on a Friday night instead of raging at the bars till the early morning hours.

Being dedicated means doing those movements you suck at, on a consistent basis, even if you feel like the laughing stock of the gym. It means showing up even when you know ahead of time the planned workout isn't what you want to do. Being dedicated means staying humble, knowing that you can't play with the big boy weights until your body is conditioned to handle them... no matter how big of a Sally that makes you feel like. Being dedicated means you're willing to go up against the best and get absolutely crushed, only to come back again the next day ready for round two.

The dedicated are those willing to endure not only the physical pain, but the psychological as well. The vast majority of individuals (myself included) suffer from lingering cases of mental dwarfism... we let our minds quit far before our bodies are ready to shut down. And that's natural, that's our body's way of telling us we're coming close to the breaking point. However, it's not until we're broken that we can build ourselves better.

Henry Rollins once said, "Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. Realize the strength, move on." I hold that statement dear to my heart. Workouts (and life in general) become much easier when you realize the strength your setbacks have given you. Whether it be a nagging shoulder injury, a bad workout, losing a job or going through a bad breakup... whatever happened has happened. You can continue to sulk and feel sorry for yourself, or you can find the testicular/ovarian fortitude to get over it and go get shit done.

Leave the cream at home... nut up and shut up

Tomorrow's a new day, another chance to turn it all around... IF you're lucky enough to get it. So when you wake up in the morning, seize the fucking day... really seize it. Every day is an opportunity to be better than yesterday, or worse... the choice is yours. Quitting workouts early, counting reps that shouldn't be counted, having cheat meals, they do nothing but halt your progress. The effects may not be immediately visible, but the shortcuts will eat at your sinew.

So the next time you hit a wall, realize you have a choice. You can stop, cry and ask for someone to come coddle you till your boo-boo feels better... OR you can punch and kick the wall till the fucker eventually falls down. I know what choice I've learned to make... what's yours?

What Is Love, Besides a Haddaway Song?

While recovering from my first ever wedding last night I've come to a few realizations about love. It just so happens that today is Sweetest Day... so here's a few friendly reminders for my single friends (and maybe those that are taken, too) about what love should be.


1: Tunnel Vision


Have it. One of my all time favorite movies is Big Fish. It's about a traveling salesman who falls ill and is confined to his deathbed. He has a gift for storytelling and decides to make an attempt at mending his relationship with his estranged son. My favorite scene of the entire movie is when the father recalls the night he fell in love.

Time stopped. Amid the chaos and commotion of the circus he was at, he saw nothing but the girl of his dreams. He didn't see the trapeze artists flying through the air, nor the giant elephant that could have crushed him with a simple step. He didn't even pay any mind to all the other pretty girls along the way... all he saw was her.

"Now I may not have much, but I have more determination than any man you're ever likely to meet."

That's how love should be... where nothing else even matters. When you can be in a room full of hot girls but only find one beautiful. Where temptation doesn't even exist because you already have perfection.


2: Trust


If you don't have it, you'll never get anywhere. If you can't let someone into your life, how can you truly love and appreciate them? It's scary, without a doubt. But monitoring someone instead of giving them freedom is the easiest way to create jealousy and unnecessary drama. If your girl wants to check your text messages, something's wrong. If you have a passcode on your phone just so that your girlfriend can't check your text messages, something's wrong.

Have a little faith. Actually, have a lot of faith. I've been on the bad side of things... dating a girl for what seemed like forever, being completely open, honest and giving, and then having her decide she was through with me out of the blue. It was hard to deal with, but later that day I realized it really wasn't my fault... and I was... happy?

Although it is extremely peculiar, the music video for Gnarls Barkley's "Who's Gonna Save My Soul" is wonderful.

Although I gave my heart to someone only to feel like they crushed it, I kept my heart on my sleeve the entire time. To know someone doesn't want you, all of you, the TRUE you is something that is easier to live with then we realize... to not give yourself completely, to half ass love has to be the worst feeling ever. That is something we should strive for. To not be scared of love or being completely vulnerable, but in never having our vulnerability challenged. In the words of Tennyson, "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."


3: Enhancements


This one is pretty simple, yet 99.9% of people manage to fuck it up on a consistent basis... be happy with yourself before you try and be happy with someone else.

We live in a world where people are emotional wrecks constantly complaining about being "forever alone" or how all guys/girls are the same. Yet for some reason they get the bright idea that being with someone will make everything in their life better. If you're not happy on your own, don't ever think you'll have a successful relationship with another person. A significant other shouldn't be part of you, they should be an enhancement.


4: Spend Yourself


Ever purchase a steak from a restaurant and forget it's in your fridge for a couple of weeks? You open up the container and it looks like a bad Petri dish experiment some high school kid forgot about in his chemistry class. However, you find a cheeseburger you purchased 6 months ago from McDonald's that your buddy dropped between your seats and was too big of a douche to clean up and it looks the exact same as the day you bought it.

The difference between the two? Nothing real lasts forever. When you don't pump something full of artificial bullshit, it's gonna have an expiration date. If you want to eat healthy you stick to the outside perimeters of the grocery store where all of the fresh food is located. When you want something that doesn't expire for 3 years after it's opened and could survive a Chernobyl disaster, you walk down the aisles and purchase artificial food.

There was steak at the wedding last night... it was delicious.

Although we preach that love is eternal, eventually we're all going to die. To add salt to the wound, we can die at any moment... whether it's ten minutes from now in a freak accident or in fifty years from old age. Yet so often couples walk around disgruntled, rarely showing affection or appreciation for each other.

ARE YOU NUTS?! Your love can literally keel over at any moment... wouldn't you want to make the most out of every moment available? There will no doubt be bad times and arguments, but when you don't have a single second on Earth guaranteed, shouldn't we strive to enjoy every moment we have granted to us?

Don't leave anything left over... don't stick things in the back of the fridge and forget about them... enjoy it while it's here because even the real things aren't gonna last forever.

Chumbawamba

My shoulders just wouldn't open, I am a mobility nightmare. The heels of my feet refused to stay on the ground... I am convinced I had magnets surgically inserted into my toes at birth. My mind is right, but my body refuses to comprehend and cooperate with me. It seems as though this problem is not being resolved, no matter how much I work on it. Failed attempts, over and over, and over again.

Then I recall just a few days ago watching my coach hit a 235# snatch with ease, as if the movement is innate to him. DAFUQ?! I understand he's been training for longer than I have and is a great athlete, but why the FUCK can't I mimic his technique with not even half of that goddamn weight?!

Maybe there is a God and he's finally decided to punish me for all the times I took his name in vain. Has karma finally decided to come into my life and bite me in the ass? Is this why it burns when I pee? Oops, there I go again... alright, back on the topic of me being terrible.

WHY AM I SUCH A LITTLE BITCH, KENDRICK?!

The snatch is an extremely intricate and technically challenging movement. Unlike other lifts, it has the unique ability to humble an ego and make grown men feel like little bitches. It is one of my many GOATS, a movement I try my best to avoid because I'm outright terrible at it.

So naturally, the first workout for the 2013 Granite Games is a goddamn snatch ladder. Christ on a corn dog, who do I have to sleep with to get a fucking break for once?

Although our first workout may not go as planned and although we may be behind the 8-ball going into the second day of competition, I'm looking forward to it. Does that make me a masochist? Well no, not technically. You see, masochism is the sexual gratification from experiencing emotional or physical pain and I don't plan on competing with a boner, but hey, no guarantees.

Back to me looking forward to hating my life but welcoming it with open arms... masochist, hardly, but that probably makes me a little crazy... which, in my humble opinion, is the secret ingredient required to achieve success at the highest level at anything in life.

So often we want things to change from what they are to our perfect dream scenario without us putting in any real work. We want that 6 pack abs and perfect ass, but we don't want to follow a strict diet or get to the gym every day. We want the dream job and CEO title without having to flip burgers for a few years or take multiple unpaid internships. We want all the accolades but without putting in any time or effort, without going through any hardships or being forced to sacrifice what we do have.

So we settle; we make excuses so we don't feel bad about giving up. "Who cares about looking good, it's what inside that matters most"... "The CEO has a son working for the company, he'll get the position over me automatically anyways"... "Who cares about practicing my snatch, I'll just make up for it in the other workouts!"... that's it, lets reason with our shortcomings!

50 Shades of Christmas? YES PLEASE.

But then we're reminded of Gladwell's "10,000 hour rule", which states that success in any endeavor, to a large extent, does not come until we've devoted at least 10,000 hours of practice to it. And although practice doesn't always make "perfect", it can certainly make us very, very good. However, the one thing they fail to mention is that you have to be bat shit fucking insane to practice anything for 10,000 total hours.

And there I find myself, practice after practice doing the things I hate... the things I suck at. Which isn't necessarily crazy, except when it's on a voluntary basis. Why practice snatching when my hands are torn to pieces, my hip bones hurt from constant contact with the barbell and my shoulders are as sore as a Penn State... never mind, you get the picture. THIS ISN'T GETTING ANY MORE FUN. But I'm getting better... slowly.

Time always seems to fly by when you're having fun and always seems to move slower than an elderly couple having sex in a pool of molasses when you're not. And when I sit back and think about it, I'm already light years ahead of when I first started trying to master the technique... that was MAYBE a total of 10 hours ago, but probably not even half that. So if I've already vastly improved my technique in such a short amount of time, why get too discouraged? And, on top of that, why think it's going to be amazing anytime soon? 

YouTube the song "Sex Syrup"... YOU'RE WELCOME.

That doesn't mean I'm against all of a sudden having a moment of clarity and finally having something click to the point that my technique improves drastically after getting that "cue", but if it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen. But that's the beauty of it all, you're probably gonna have to fuck up thousands of times before shit starts to click. Just like the baby that touches the hot stove, it's gonna take a lot of tears before your brain registers that you need to stop doing that so you stop getting boo-boos. And once it clicks, all of those misfortunes more often than not seem completely worth it in the end.

So if you have yet to land that dream job, keep searching for it. Keep sending in applications and working two jobs to get by, there's no such thing as being too resilient. If you're sad your body doesn't look like the models in the magazines, first and foremost read a fucking book on nutrition and realize your body doesn't just lose a high percentage of body fat over night, then open your eyes and realize most of those images are actually airbrushed and photoshopped, THEN start getting to the gym and eating right. And if your snatch happens to suck like mine, put on your wrist wraps, lace up your shoes and get back under the barbell.

My Favorite Flower

Some of my most vivid memories are from when I was younger. I can't tell you why I remember them so well, in fact besides providing some laughs most of them hold zero significance to me. I remember a girl giving me one of her strawberry fruit snacks when I was in second grade during lunch. I, not knowing I was allergic to strawberries, immediately began vomiting as my throat began to swell shut. I was fine after about twenty minutes or so in the principal's office but to this day she still reminds me when I see her how traumatic of an experience it was for her.

I remember swim lessons at our family's first apartment complex when we moved to Illinois from Georgia. I was hellbent on being the best in sports and wasn't about to let the other little tykes show me up when it came to diving to the bottom of the deep end. Having suffered from childhood asthma, I quickly realized I had grossly underestimated the distance I could safely dive while holding my breath and completely blacked out underwater. As I came to outside the pool, my 8 year old self had just gotten mouth to mouth from the gorgeous red haired lifeguard who saved the day. Not the ideal situation to get your first kiss, but hey, don't rain on my parade. But one of my earliest memories that sticks out the most was the day I decided to completely shut down emotionally to others.

Time has been good to you, Wendy Peffercorn

My folks hit a rough spot in their marriage... although I have no problem sharing the story with close friends I will not go into further detail on the internet out of respect for both of them. But, like most children, I started to become extremely quiet and secluded as I had to face the harsh reality that life wasn't always rainbows and sunshine. It's funny how parents can do an extremely good job of not letting children know exactly how bad things in life can be. They don't always understand yelling, or what mommy/daddy losing their job means, or why one of them won't be living with you anymore.

I remember laying down on a long brown chair, a poster of Ella Fitzgerald hanging directly across from me. My short body barely took up room as I reclined, perhaps a sign I was too young to be in such a place. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to, it's all up to you" the counselor said as he sat behind his desk. Silence ensued. Just minutes ago I was sitting outside in the lobby as my sister exited the door, tears streaming down her face. I remember feeling as though I had failed her as a brother, like I should have gone in first so she could see me leave before she went in emotionally unscathed. Every session went like this. I knew my parents were looking out for me, hoping maybe a professional could tap into those emotional areas inside my heart that I had chosen to shut down. But every single session was silence, not a word left my lips. To this day I can't remember what the counselor looked like. I'd walk in with my head down and proceed to stare off into space until my time was up. Nine times out of ten he'd have to tap me on the shoulder to let me know it was time to go, I was too busy going off into my happy place to hear him say I could leave.

And although my parents resolved their differences, my heart had officially decided to lock itself behind close doors. Years have passed and I still find myself quiet around my parents, talking to them as though I'm still a scared child. Perhaps unavoidable pain I've inflicted on myself, perhaps a pain I decided was necessary in order to feel "normal".

Then a funny thing happened today... I found out someone died. Let me explain. As I was driving I got caught in traffic and was forced to travel at a snail's pace for about a mile. With the cool, fall breeze in the air I decided to drive with my windows down and the radio up. Something caught my eye and as I glanced out the passenger side window I noticed a funeral procession. Although my music wasn't blaring, I decided to turn it down out of respect for those mourning, and it turns out they were close enough to hear as the priest made his closing remarks. Afterwards, a pair of women, maybe a mother and daughter made their way over to the grave. Although I was in traffic and although her voice was soft, I made out "I just wish I could have..." followed by a loud honk, the fellow in the car behind me was in no mood to wait any longer.

If you lack a mountain or nearby Buddhist temple, your car may be your best solution for enlightenment

She wish she could have what? It bothered me the rest of the trip. The rest of the 20 minute drive was made in complete silence, my brain so flustered I hadn't even realized I never turned the radio back up. Did she want to tell him she loved him, she was sorry, given him one last kiss goodbye? WHAT THE FUCK WAS SHE WISHING FOR? Then it struck me... someone was wishing for something they knew they couldn't have while I had things I wasn't appreciating. 

I remember running through a field of daises with my sister one evening, the air cool though I'm not sure where we were at. We would pick them up in piles and blow their seeds away, watching as the breeze floated them into the sky. The reason I liked running through that particular field was because, no matter how many daises we picked, there would be hundreds of thousands in the same place the next time we went.

I've decided I'm going to try and enjoy the daises from now on. You don't always pick your moments, or your parents, where you were raised or who you fall in love with. And just like a daisy, those moments are going to go away before you know it. But so often we complain about the good times not lasting, forgetting that all moments don't last forever... to include the bad ones.

I have people who love and care for me and it's about time I start giving the same affection back. Because for all I know, I could lose everyone I care for tomorrow. For all I know, they could lose me tomorrow. I don't want people wishing things could have been different when there's time to make them different now. People change, I sure as hell know I'm not the same individual I was ten years ago, or five, or one. Keeping an open heart to those who have hurt or disappointed you in the past is no easy feat, in fact, it's down right scary. But, like Oscar Wilde said, "Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future". I won't let my past dictate my future, nor will I no longer let my judgement of others. I won't be that secluded kid anymore. It took some time, but I think I finally found that key that went missing years ago.

The head of a dandelion is called a "clock"... don't be afraid of change, your time is running out.

Never Forget

Today is the anniversary of the September 11th attacks, a day in which innocent US citizens were murdered at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and aboard the downed plane in Pennsylvania.

I remember walking to school after church that morning when I first heard the news. We sat in our first period class as our teacher listened in along with us, trying to understand through the chaos if this news was confirmed while praying it was just a hoax. Unfortunately, I must admit that I didn't even know what the Twin Towers were used for, but the sight of them crumbling and Americans running for their lives sent a chill down my spine like I had never experienced. I remember deciding that day in 7th grade that I wanted to serve my country someday, somehow, some way and do whatever I could do help honor those who had fallen that morning, to help stop the bully.

There have been many instances in our history when Americans have been knocked down to the ground, where it would have been perfectly understandable to throw in the towel. However, quitting just isn't in our blood. We rally, we unite, and we come back swinging.

In honor of those innocent men and women who lost their lives and of the men and women who have lost their lives protecting us against further terrorism, let us truly remember these individuals. Let us strive to show our love for our country and the lives we have lost EVERY DAY, united as ONE nation. Because as sad as it is to say, for a large majority of our nation patriotism has lost its "splendor" and the minority that choose to defend it know this all too well. We all will like Facebook statuses and tweets by our favorite celebrities, but few will give this day much more thought than that.

It seems as though our society is not as proud of the men and women who join our military ranks and first responders as previous generations were, often times crediting it to them not being able to land a job or being “too dumb for college". Parents tell their children to not speak to recruiters assuming only the worst will happen if their babies join up. We feel as though becoming a cop, a fire fighter, an EMT is simply a fall back job when your dreams don’t end up working out in this bad economy. Some choose to support those overseas by sticking a yellow ribbon magnet on the back of their cars... but now that I think about it, I haven't seen those in quite some time… I guess they were just a fad. However, we proudly celebrate our country every Memorial Day by getting drunk, grilling out and relaxing on a boat.

I'm not here to say that we shouldn't enjoy holidays, nor am I claiming that people have no regard for our troops/first responders anymore. But what I am saying is that anybody can buy an American flag shirt for the 4th of July. We should strive to remember these individuals throughout the year, every day, until the day we die. There's hundreds if not thousands of ways to help our warriors, those both here and abroad. Whether it's visiting our elderly veterans and spending time with them in nursing homes or deciding to take the money you'd spend on a Friday night at the bars and donating it to help our wounded warriors. Whether it’s buying a meal for a fire fighter when you’re out to lunch or running a 5k to raise money for a fallen police officer's family. The age of war bonds may be over and we may not be asked to ration our goods anymore, but we can and should all still be willing to sacrifice a little of ourselves for those who are willing to sacrifice so much.

A friend of mine once told me that an even greater minority than those who serve to protect are those who support them, a very sad realization when you think about it. Military service is not for everyone, and in no way does it need to be. Some people choose to become volunteer fire fighters, but with jobs and raising families, it’s not for everyone. Others are uncomfortable being around guns and the thought of blood alone can make them faint… being an EMT or cop is clearly not a job for them. But even if you aren't defending our country, you can still be a vital source to help making it great. And it is the least bit we should all be willing to do… because at night, when we lay down in peace, there are men and women we don’t even know, who we will probably never even meet, who are ready at a moment’s notice to have their lives cut short so that we may live out our years pursuing our dreams in peace.

So in closing, let us not take a single freedom for granted, let us never forget those whose lives were cut too short, and let us never forget those currently in harm's way. There is truly no better way to honor them.

Progress Over Placement

A couple of days ago I overheard a conversation that went something like this:

"Why don't you compete in the scaled division?"

"I competed in scaled once, I smoked everyone. It was too easy, there's no point of me doing scaled..."

"Yeah, BUT YOU'D WIN!"

Someone needs to slap you for your own benefit.

One of the worst things you can do as a CrossFitter (or any athlete for that matter) is become comfortable with your routine, hence why CrossFit is constantly varied. One of the best things you can do for yourself, on the contrary, is be open to failure.

Yesterday I signed up for The Granite Games, a competition next month in Minnesota that will have some of the top Regionals and Games athletes in attendance. Upon clicking the payment button, I experienced my first "oh shit" moment. Scrolling through the rosters, seeing the names of my competition... I'm gonna get fucking SMOKED. I don't mean in one or two workouts, I mean there's a good chance I'll be shaking in the corner of the gym come the conclusion of the competition like a newborn fawn... AND I CAN'T FUCKING WAIT.

Wait, that doesn't make sense. Why am I looking forward to getting my ass handed to me on a granite platter (see what I did there?) Because GROWTH, that's why.

Do you remember your first CrossFit workout, probably a "simple" 5-4-3-2-1? You finished what looked like a piece of cake workout lying on the ground, gasping for air, wondering if you had the strength to pick up a foam roller and throw it at the coach's head. You went home, cried yourself to sleep and then you woke up feeling like the Rock took a baseball bat to your body.

Teddy Roosevelt would have approved of you, Dwayne.

And then something crazy happened, YOU CAME BACK. Maybe you were like me and you couldn't quite figure out what made you want more. Perhaps it was because you were used to lifting heavy weight in your years prior to CrossFit and now 135# felt like a Sisyphean effort, or maybe it was because the grandma next to you didn't even look winded after doing the same exact workout that had you contemplating suicide just to end the pain and suffering.

Although not all of us have the same reasons for starting or continuing, we've all notice a shared result... PROGRESS. You can now run faster and farther, you can now lift more weight more proficiently, you're now more agile and nimble. Yet, although you can now deadlift 500# or do a sub 2 minute Fran, you've still got goats, and I don't mean the furry creature.

So cute... so paleo.

Goats are those movements that you hate doing because you suck shit at them. They also happen to be those movements you need to do if you're ever going to grow as an overall athlete. You see it all the time, guys that have 1200 pound CrossFit totals but can't run a 400 without stopping to catch their breath. Girls that can knock out pull ups like it's their job but can't back squat half of what they should be able to.

There's nothing wrong with having a goat or two, or even a whole fucking farm full of them... as long as you tend to them. I personally blow whale dick at pull ups and handstand push ups. I can give excuses like the fact that I separated both my shoulders and dislocated my collar bone playing baseball when I was younger, or the fact that my fat ass weighs too much. But the problem with excuses is that they take up room for solutions. I eventually started knocking out more and more strict pull ups, then I learned kipping, and now I have a butterfly (a took a bullet to the wing mid-flight butterfly.) I got used to handstand holds and now I can do HSPUs (in small, small, small sets.)

Did I get better right away? Fuck no... it's taken years. My goats have given me enough anger to Hulk out mid-workout and punch a hole through a steel door. But when I look back a week ago, a month ago, a year ago, I've progressed light years from where I started.

Too often we expect change to come instantly and easily, forgetting that all things worthwhile take time and effort. Then, once we achieve that goal, we become complacent. DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN. You won't get better unless you're willing to take chances, to be open to embarrassment and failure. My sole goal for The Granite Games is to not place last, and to get Andrea Ager to accept my marriage proposal. But even if we do, I'll have just as big of a smile on my face come the end of the competition as I will of we podium. Not because I'm satisfied with being the worst but because I'm willing to go against the best of the best no matter the odds. 

Our children would literally be too beautiful for words to describe.

So if you're thinking about competing, DO IT. And if you've never done so before, maybe scaled is the way to go. But listen to your coaches and if they tell you that you have the ability to do more than you think you can, trust them. Don't settle for competing against lesser opponents... if you need to boost your ego, find a different sport. There's no shame in finishing last, in being the worst time on the whiteboard. The shame lies in not pushing yourself, in giving less than 100% effort. 

CrossFit is a lot like climbing a mountain. You don't just reach the summit on your first try. It takes practice, it takes overcoming little mountains first, it takes failed climbs. You have to reach base camps along the way and always keep the summit on your mind. And, if you ever do reach the peak, you've gotta realize there's higher mountains to climb and someone who did it quicker. 

Whether you're first or last, leave it all on the floor... because as long as you're better than yesterday, that's all that really matters.

Shake The Dust

I know this may anger many people, but it's something I felt the need to get off of my chest.

Last week marked the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech, which has since been dubbed one of the greatest pieces of rhetoric from the 20th century. And, although many black people will blow up social media today with praise and accolations for this moment in history, I can't help but feel even more disappointed than I already am in my fellow African Americans. Let me explain...

MLK envisioned an America in which all races were treated equally, where you weren't discriminated against because your skin tone was a tad bit darker than the person next to you. And our ancestors fought for acceptance, and they won it (to a degree), and subsequent generations of blacks are actively pursuing to ruin any forward progress that was made.

My ancestors were slaves, humans that were treated like wild animals. Caged, whipped, fed scraps off the dinner plates. Fortunately, you can't buy or sell a man's desire, his intestinal fortitude... his strength to endure. And although they were often physically weak, they stayed strong within. They learned to read, they learned proper grammar and syntax, and they learned their rights as human beings. They, to paraphrase Langston Hughes, learned that they too were America.

And as generations passed, so did that strength, that desire to be equal. But somewhere along the way, blacks began to settle... the most dangerous thing you can ever do in life. Because we felt we were "legally" equal, we felt that we were "socially" equal.

This wasn't as apparent when my grandparents were around. Although I was never lucky enough to meet them, the stories people have told me about them made them sound like demigods. Hard workers who didn't make excuses and didn't look for handouts. They carried themselves with pride and expected their offspring too as well... they appeared as they expected to be received. They didn't expect handouts, if they needed more, they worked extra. If the country that had given them freedom needed help, they volunteered without hesitation.

But somewhere along the way, America began to become pussified. Somewhere along the way, blacks began losing all respect for themselves. And now, for some reason, few blacks actually represent the colored American MLK was so passionate about helping to create.

It's sad to know that when I go to a restaurant, a server will automatically expect a shitty tip because of my skin color. What's even worse is that when I open my mouth, they'll be shocked to not hear ebonic-ridden speech.

Is this what my ancestors fought for? For someone who realized their dream and is living it to be considered an exception?

Did they want their children to kill each other over a pair of expensive sneakers? Did they want their children to start sagging their jeans below their ass as if they were in prison, constantly pulling them off the ground opposed to wearing a belt? Did they want their children to spend thousands of dollars on gold chains even though they can't put food on the table for their families? Did they want their children tossing around the word nigga in common talk as if its really any different than the word nigger?

Far too often people make the mistake of thinking that where they start is where they are stuck. Freedom means there are no shackles holding you down... it means if you stay somewhere and refuse to progress, it's only your own damn fault. 

I hope too that someday we will be judged by the content of our character and not be the color of our skin. Sadly, I understand why that may never happen in my lifetime. Until then, I can only hope more black people continue to challenge the status quo. Having respect for yourself and defying expectations is not "acting white" as many people may tell you. Success and progress know no limits, nor qualifications. No matter your race or gender, your creed or your sexuality, America is open to what we make it.

Pinocchio

We love being lied to, perhaps because the truth more often than not does hurt. Ask any guy or girl who is single what they want most in a relationship and one of the most common responses you'll hear will be, "I just want someone who will be honest with me." But what most people don't admit, or maybe just don't realize is that what they really want is someone to comfort them.

"Does this make me look fat?" she says as she tries on a dress two times too small for her with disappointment written all over her face.

"No babe, you look great"... says the boyfriend as he bites his tongue.

Comforting, yes. Honest? Far from it. Because it would be "rude" to say, "Yes babe, it does make you look fat because you ARE overweight. You need to start eating better and working out so you can lose some body fat before you try and wear something that size. Perhaps you should go up a couple of sizes so that the dress looks more flattering to your current figure."

It's safe to assume a response as such would result in a slap to the face, but I feel it's also safe to assume 99.9% of women would expect to be comforted. Now, I'm not trying to start a huge debate about beauty. I realize the true beauty of a person comes from within, so lets not go down that slippery slope. What I'm asking is, when was the last time you were truly honest with someone? Better yet, when was the last time you went an entire day speaking your mind and telling the truth... have you EVER?

Now sit back, reminisce about your previous day's experiences and tally up the amount of "white lies" and approval seeking responses you gave. Baaaaaaaaah... you are officially a sheep. Most of us would be shocked if not disgusted with just how much time we spend not telling the truth, holding back our true feelings and wearing a constant mask wherever we go. Please that person, don't piss off that person. I don't think you'll be getting an invite to attend Fight Club anytime soon, my friend.

I read an article in Esquire a few years back about a movement called "Radical Honesty" (which you can read here: http://www.esquire.com/features/honesty0707) and it completely changed the way I looked at life. It made me lose friends, lose jobs, lose girlfriends and feel AWESOME. I finally became aware that you can't really think outside of the box in any given situation until you're willing to say fuck it to society's unwritten rules.

Although I'm sure many people consider such blatant honesty rude, can't one argue that it's more rude to hold one's self back,,, to not live with one's heart on their sleeve? No, your boss may not like you telling them they don't know their ass from a hole in the ground and it may just get you fired. But if you feel that way so strongly about them, hasn't that anger been building awhile? If you've been biting your tongue for so long, can you really say that you've been happy?

I challenge any of you who decided to read this to give honesty a shot. Dare to be uncomfortable, to be exposed. Perhaps start by reducing your lies instead of becoming Honest Abe out of the blue... you may be surprised just how much lying you've been doing.