Embracing Opportunity

I was never lucky enough to meet any of my grandparents but from the stories I've heard, they were some hard-nosed motherfuckers. They were part of "The Greatest Generation", folks who answered the call to serve Uncle Sam when he was in a time of need... folks who made sacrifices on the home front until everyone made it back. They spent time on the front lines, bought war bonds back home and participated in civilian peace time rationing of goods. They didn't ask, "Why us?" and they didn't complain... they just got the job done. They weren't born with the excessive whining/I deserve everything I want in life gene that my generation has seemed to develop.

I was lucky enough, however, to meet my Grand Uncle Charles McGee. He, along with my Grandmother Ruth Downs, grew up poor but aspired to greatness. He stayed focused in high school, went to college for engineering before leaving to enlist in the Army Air Corps his sophomore year and soon became a fighter pilot once the war broke out. He's one of the last surviving Tuskegee Airmen and flew 409 combat missions while fighting in World War II, Korea AND Vietnam... a still standing Air Force record.



My beautiful grandmother, Ruth Downs

The most awesome thing about my "Uncle" Charles, however, is that he's a black man. He answered the call to serve his country even though, according to a study by the Army War College in 1925, blacks, "... are mentally inferior by nature, subservient, cowardly... and therefore unfit for combat." It was thought that blacks would be good for nothing more than kitchen work and cleaning duties. Even after passing the Tuskegee flight program, they were initially given nothing more than routine reconnaissance missions with zero real danger. Yet he stayed focused and didn't let racism deter him. Eventually, in a time where blacks would be hung just for sitting in a white only section, he was destroying the enemy and receiving salutes from the men who wanted him dead simply because his skin was slightly more dark. He used the hate as fuel for his fire and eventually became one of the greatest fighter pilots in the history of the Air Force. Which is why the thing I love most about my 95 year old "Uncle Charles", as weird as it is to say, is that if you were to talk to him on the phone, you'd assume he was white.

Pride

My ancestors were first brought to this country on slave ships... sold at markets like prized cattle. They worked hard labor day in and day out, being disciplined with lashes to the back if they didn't "perform" well enough. They were told they were nothing but wild animals, useless for anything but being farm hands. They were a prime example that you can break a man physically, but you cannot break his mind.

Viktor Frankl spent time as a concentration camp prisoner, but instead of succumbing to the situation, he sought to discover the importance of finding meaning in all forms of existence, even the most horrid ones, thus, finding a reason to live. In his book, "Man's Search For Meaning" he wrote, "Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."

This is something my ancestors luckily took heed to, a thought process most eloquently portrayed in Langston Hughes' poem, "I, Too Sing America". They sought freedom, both of physical and mental chains. They learned how to read and write, even if being caught with a book would mean the end of their life. Blacks learned that power is not always physical and does not always require large followings but that one determined individual can change the course of history. We became leaders and visionaries, but more importantly, we accepted that we could become equals. But then my generation came along with what appears to be the sole intent of erasing hundreds of years of progress in the right direction.



Colonel McGee and his plane "Kitten", named after his wife

Ebonics and diamonds, fancy cars and baggy clothes. The amount of hoes you have being of more importance than the quality of children you're raising... if you're even around. Get rich or die trying, be known as a bad tipper, blast rap songs where the word nigga comprises 95% of the lyrics as you ride around on your 24 inch rims. Do bad in school, maybe even fail out... but hopefully get a scholarship somewhere for being good at basketball. Attend a class here and there, but don't dare participate. Leave for the draft early, bank on the fact that you won't get injured or wash out.

Did you hear that? It was generations of ancestors rolling over in their graves disgusted at what we minorities have become. We are not special and we don't need special treatment. What we need is focus... because we have more inspiring and motivating figures than we even realize. We owe it to ourselves, but more importantly those of the past who would have KILLED to have the opportunities that we have now. We grow up in less than ideal situations but fail to realize the majority of limiting factors that exist are self-made. We, as Americans in general, need a fucking reality check. We could be a great generation if we just embraced our potential. There would be nothing worse than leaving this Earth knowing we never tried to become the greatest possible person that we could be.

"Aim high and never settle."

If I were to die today, I'd just want the following to be remembered: Carry yourself in a way that would make those before you proud. Walk tall and with confident steps. Walls will occasionally make you stop on the path you're traveling... you can go around, over, under or through... but never settle on being stopped. Speak with pride and never forget your history. Make your own history today that those in the future can revel about. Know who you are, trust your instincts and leave this world completely spent having given everything you had to it.

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.