Motivation: Headed to the gym? Take this with you...

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Ain't No Sunshine

It is a long road, and it is dark most of the way. There are those moments of light and color here and there, but for the most part, it is black and white. Gritty. Urban. Empty. Sometimes, in the search for something good and real, this is what it comes to.

To those on the outside looking in at us, sacrifice means entirely too much. To us, it is just a word, although we know the weight it carries, and the importance of due diligence. No one understands. But we do. And to make it in this game, you have to want something. You have to need something. Regardless of how things look, you have to roll out of bed, hit the gym, punch the clock at work, get all of your meals in, pay the bills, go to bed, and then have the fortitude and wherewithal to do it all again the next day… no parties… no magic moments… no birds flying around chirping and singing some happy song while you are on the move. Ain’t no sunshine on this fucking road.

But I will tell you what is on this road… life, and living, on your own terms. It may not seem like much to some, but if you are happy with it, live that shit, love that shit, fuck that shit that the outsiders are talking about, because that is what is going to get you from A to B. When that 315 pounds tells you to work, become a slave, do what it wants, and ask for seconds. Living and loving in a dark and cold hell where you rule was not meant to be pretty. It was meant to be productive. It was meant to be damning. And the moment you took that silent oath to surrender it all to the iron, you chose the life that was meant to be yours.

You want friends? You have a full and supportive brotherhood (or sisterhood, for you ladies) at your disposal. You want truth? Do not expect it from the outsiders… they will blow smoke up your ass, give you empty dreams, and have you hoping for what will eventually become broken promises. Among them, we walk alone. But we know that we walk hundreds and thousands strong, stronger than those in the warm, sunny world of mediocre complacency.
I remember being that way once. Looking back on it, it sucked ass. Never again, at least not until I take the dirt nap. I can deal with no sunshine beating down on me, slowing me down, and making me not care about where I am going or what I am doing. That works just fine for me.

That is real shit, and the real understand the real.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Can't Be Scared

The gym… 17:32 hrs.

As always, I see it. I feel it. I smell it. It is obscene.

With my hand wrapped around the bar, and a presence that not only commands respect, but dictates like I own the place, it comes… the fear. Oh… I am not scared of a damn thing. But they are. The regular time wasters, used to my controlled rage with the triple digit – and on occasion, quadruple digit - numbers, still find themselves in shock at the sight of me. And the new guys… well, that just has to be seen.

Such is the life of an outsider who invades the space of the normal. I am not trying to show off. I am not trying to stick out. I am just a man on a mission. But someone has to rise up, take a stand, and show everyone how it is done. When I hit the gym, I am that man, and I am not even trying to be. This is just me. This ethic… this zeal… this hunger for more, it is alien to them, and it amazes some… scares others.

I cannot help that when I come into the gym, I am on the move, preying on my ultimate self. In those moments within those four walls, that is what you need to do… there is no other reason to be there. If you are not, you are taking up space… my space… and you have to know that I do not appreciate that shit. Watching me, standing there like a deer in the headlights, that is not going to get you anywhere. But if you insist on doing that, I hope you are paying attention and learning something.

It was not my aim coming into the gym today, but whatever… I will show you the way to being big. Follow me… but know if you do, you sure as hell cannot be scared, because if you are, I will leave you where you stand.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

For Identification Purposes Only

All things are not created equal. It would be nice, but it is not going to happen. When you are next throwing down with the weight, step the hell back and analyze that shit for a second. You are there with a purpose. You walked in for a reason. You want something. You are chasing something. And you know you are going to get a stranglehold on it. BUT… you are not going to get it by cramming everything under the sun into training, flailing about, and looking like a chicken with its head cut off.

Sure, a standing French press might look cool to everyone there, but your time to look cool and attract attention comes later, in a packed auditorium in front of a jury of four to six. Gym time is business. It is work. You celebrate your banker’s hours daily and get your pay every two weeks. Well, the gym is your office as well. Put in good work… receive great pay. So, find what works for you, get your gains, and exploit your system every way possible. I would rather lay to rest someone’s stage ambitions of placing higher than waste my time.

You may have the strength to handle every conceivable triceps movement known to man, but if you can figure out the one or two meat and potatoes movements that will make them sing with growth, then why not bust ass on those? If you have a weak area (and we all do), quit spinning your wheels, find the solution, and rip it up. Nothing screams clueless more than someone who just goes in circles and goes through the motions, but gets nowhere. You are better than that.

So to all of you, my brothers and sisters, find your way… know it… LIVE IT. Know where you are in your journey so that you can adjust and make your travel easier and more rewarding. You have a destination. Goddamnit, you are going to get there. And then when some unsuspecting innocent finds their way into your world, on your stage against you… fuck their mind, and leave them twisted like a pretzel. I guarantee you that they will never try that shit again.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

One More Rep

There comes a moment in our daily battle with the iron that is unlike any seconds before it. With fibers engaged and insane committal to the task at hand, we march forward… 3, 4, 5, 6… and as you come to a close on the set, you realize where you are. You realize who you are. And, you realize that you want more… as hard as it may be, you want it. And you WILL have it.
That is the best time in the world... that single moment, where everything in time stops, all goes silent, the world goes grayscale, and although anything else you do not hear, you actually hear the tortured scream of your body in your head as you crash into a wall of obscenity... That release of sweet, rapturous pain in the muscle that you are training, which seems to spread all over in the blink of an eye, seizing control of rational thought and logic, daring you to soldier on and push, pull, or raise again, and again, and AGAIN…

This is the secret bliss that many know about, but few seek out. This is the moment of truth, the instant that defines if you are really training, or just going through the motions, and trying to impress people.

You may sweat. You may bleed. You just may cry. You will be battered… beaten… and you will fall. But you also will rise… rise again, stare at that bench… stare at that rack… stare at that dumbbell… and everyone will see it in your eyes and know… you, we, us… we are not human. We look like it, but we are more, and we mean business, and the business at hand is one more… always, one more, and every time, you must push and push, take what the weight gives you and throw it back in its unseen face, and always, ALWAYS, look to get one more rep, because what that one last rep means is that you do not concede defeat, and moved Heaven, Earth, Hell, and even Limbo to get there.

If what you are doing does not mean anything to you, then you will accept mediocrity. And you will sell yourself short on what is rightfully yours. OR… you can stare that demon of doubt in his hot white, vacant eyes, dig into the depths of your being that you have never even seen, and let yourself, the world, the universe, and the very entity that is existence know that you will not stop… you will not fail… there is more… always more.

Go get it. And when you do, get another, and then one more. Compromise nothing. Sacrifice your comfort. See your end result, and know that you are steadfastly contributing to the cause. Live for it, and even be prepared to die for it, because you want it that badly… never give up on it…

ONE MORE REP.

If you cannot or will not do that, GET LEFT BEHIND.

[powergraham]

Well, Gaoshang Xiongshou has kindly agreed to let me post some stuff I write up here, so I figured I'd try and post it in the same format to keep things familiar.

The God Complex

Completing a heavy and punishing set of reps can be a surreal experience. Not many other things in life conjure up the same mix of feelings and emotions. Relief. Power. Burning pain, and raw ambition. A concoction of sheer cowardice, knowing at that moment, you could not hold up your hands to protect yourself, but feeling so fucking big, because nobody can pull off what you have just accomplished.

This, is the god complex. We feel that we are above everyone else, that we, are amongst a special elite, above the average. We are the anomolies, rejects, freaks. People look upon us with confusion and often, disgust, for we are different. We walk into our gyms, walk past the row of 18 elipticals, past the stepping boxes, and past the pilates instructor, and we head for the heaviest fucking things we can find. We take these things within our grasp, and we lift. We show that the god complex, is in fact, a fallacy, for we are fucking gods among a world of insignificant and under achievers. We are the men and women of a rare breed, who are not afraid to look into the eyes of brutality, and pick a fight, and come screaming out the other side, only to know that we have the same gruelling ordeal tomorrow, and we understand this with a grin on our sweatsoaked lips.

Do not accept mediocrity. Do not accept half answers. There is only a god complex for those who do not understand, that we, are not human. We are Gods.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Birthday

I recall talking to a friend who had just celebrated a birthday. They had a good day, and we had a lot to talk about in the days to follow.

Their birthday made me think about mine. No, not that thing that comes around every year… that is nothing but a day to me, no different than the day before it, or the day after it.

No, when I think about my birthday, I think about the day I first set foot in a gym, and began on the journey that has made me what I am now, and will make me what I will be later. That was the day that an animal was born. That is the day when a being began being forged from the fires of searing, deep muscle failure and the tears of my body as I moved weight, unrelenting and merciless in my endeavor, paying the price to be in the game. Oh yes indeed, the day I stepped into the gym, it was go time. I have never looked back, and I dare the challenges of the future to meet me head on, and get twisted in the process.

It was the day when this world was promised a force that would be unlike any other. It was a force that would make a statement here, there, and everywhere, with whoever came in contact with it. It was a force that would be known by many, but understood by few. It was the beginning of life. That day that comes around every year… that is for your girlfriend (boyfriends, for the ladies). That day is for your family. It is for friend and foe alike. But the birthday… the REAL birthday… that is all for you.

Who remembers their birthday? I may not remember the exact day, but that does not even matter. All that does matter is that my birthday came when it was time, and I have been wrecking shit ever since 1993. So now, I know some of you are thinking about your birthday… that glorious day when it seemed like the gates of a parallel universe opened up, swallowed what you were, and spit out what it knew you would need to be in order to make your moves, and put on numerous pounds of get down.

Every day that you take that cold iron in your hand, you celebrate your birthday. The bang of the plates as you load them, the rattle of the poundage as you press or pull… there is your birthday song. Birthday cake? To Hell with that… BIRTHDAY SHAKE!! Your present is a fucking masterpiece that people wish they had, and they will waste no time in telling you. Yeah… now how is that for a birthday celebration?

So whoever you are, wherever you are, raise your protein shaker or water jug high, and toast that great moment in your life...

Happy Birthday, brothers and sisters. Now get in the gym and rip it up as only you can.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Hate Breed

Every day… every fucking day, I am breeding hate.

Every day, it grows, festers, causes my blood to boil, and its presence in the weight pit is my training partner.

This hate… this vile, loathsome contempt is for mediocrity… my mediocrity. But you know…fuck mediocrity. They can have it. I do not want it.

I welcome the aggression. I welcome the angst. This ain’t some “woe is me” tale though… hell no… this is just life… my life… probably yours too. I will be damned if I do not reach the pinnacle of this, in this, with myself. What is the point otherwise… for my health? Well, okay… perhaps. But still…

The mirror does not lie to me. It tells me what the deal is when my mind starts to play tricks on me. He introduced me to hate, and now, me and that motherfucker are thick as thieves. When no one else understands why I do what I do, what I get out of this, what is required of me to put into this, and why I want this and crave this and am fucking starving for this… it is the hate. It will keep me on the straight and narrow, and I will love it more than I would a woman because it will see me to my end, where a smile a mile wide will stretch across my face.
Oh sure, I could accept what is, and be happy as I am coming along. But that shit leads to complacency, and that gets me nowhere. No, damn that… I am going somewhere… today, tomorrow, and forever. The world will see me stiff, stuffed in a box, and six feet under before I give up this relentless pursuit.

It sounds like I am bent out of shape… just all fucked up in the head. I am not… but I ain’t fucking satisfied either. The hate allows me to live in that moment as if it was my very last. The hate allows me to push or pull that shit like my life depends on it. The hate tells me what I have for the set, and when it is gone, I get more for big, painful fun… one more, two more, three… I love it. Drives me to a new place, a scary place, one that only knows hope… fuck fear. Fear gets you second place or lower in the show, and in life, and that is not what I am about. I am all about excellence, and nothing will stop me from having it.

I want it. I need it. It will be mine.

Every day… every fucking day, I am breeding hate. Every day… every fucking day, I am getting closer to the top.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Bloodlust

It is bad enough that you go into the gym and see guys doing the latest and greatest “Bulging Biceps in 8 Minutes!!!” workout found in Muscle and Fiction magazine, or some wannabe doing the most recent “Full Body Workout in 3 Moves” from Men’s Health that will be replaced next month with the newer “Full Body Workout in 3 Moves”. Add to that that guys are hell bent on building their core on the stability ball with every conceivable exercise or on the BOSU, instead of manning the fuck up and just taking the bar in hand and doing the deadlift… add to that also that everyone is a supplement guru, like this one guy matter-of-factly telling people that milk thistle is protein, and he uses it for mental focus in the gym (as he does his 10lb. half curls; TRUE STORY… I saw this with my own eyes)… or people swearing up and down that cardio in excess will not burn muscle… we have all of that, and more, and to top it off… people are trying to gain by following some mumbo-jumbo pseudo-science “Power Meal” article printed in one of the circulating muscle tabloids.

What the fuck?! What is wrong with people?

I want to gain like everyone else. But unlike the rest of the mindless slaves of Weider, he who preys on the innocent, I have a bloodlust... for the real shit… that man shit… fucking red meat.

Goddamn it. Red meat… ribeye… Porterhouse… top sirloin… You want to be big and hard? You want to piss off your girl and get smacked in the shoulder, and not even feel it? You want the scale to start moving to the right, and beg you to get off? Find someone who has graciously chopped up a cow and sells to the public… and there you have it.

Red meat is good for the soul. Red meat will make a happy man out of you. Red meat will…

“But what about saturated fat?”

Dude, you need that shit. Do not waste my time with stupid shit like this. Yeah, the chicken is good. Certain fishes are great. But the bottom line is this: A fucking behemoth like you needs meat. DAILY. And if you are not getting it in… I just do not know what else to tell you, except to enjoy being a small fry for the rest of your life. I feed on that shit twice daily… three times, if I can swing it. Hey... tough economy all over... I know how it is. I feel everyone's pain. But it can be done, and it is not as hard as you think.

Go get it… and get that mass that you have been selling your soul for.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

More

As I stand under the bar before I make my descent, or as I pull the stack at the seated row station, something goes through my mind: you could not tell me that I did not want it.

Yeah… want it more… want that size, want that hardness, want the sweep, and want that thick-as-a-brick appearance. I want that taste of victory, of realization, of actualization. I want that high of coming out on top, having fought off the demons that sought to get in the way of the building and cutting, and having made my way around the minefield of traps throughout the process.

I never think it is going to be easy. In fact, if it is, I do not need it. I need the challenge. It feeds my bloodlust for smashing through that wall of complacency. Everything I need to know will rest in my hands, coming in at varying weights, be it as a fork weighed down to several ounces, or a bar loaded to 585 lbs. for rack deads. Quads bulging to the point that I can barely feel them on Mondays do not matter. Traps and rhomboids that feel like they have been shredded on Wednesday do not matter. Stretches held for time that rip the fascia all asunder and make me see red do not matter. The end result is all that matters. Fuck yeah. I am paying my dues, and I am standing by for my receipt.

So I lie on that bench, or run the rack. Some guy is there, sharing my space. Maybe I am lifting more than him. That means nothing to me. I am not there to show off… that shit will get me hurt. He is there for something, as am I. The only difference is that I know what I am there for, and judging by his lackadaisical performance to the task at hand, he does not know what he is there for. And what I think about the guys who will be beside me onstage at some point, I also think about him:

The payoff for diligence and determination… you might want it. But I want it more.

Remember that shit.

[225orDie]

This has to be one of the greatest threads ever!!

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Headed out to train today, or if you have already gone, and will be there tomorrow, take this. Someone, maybe even you reading this... someone needs it. If nothing ever gets you pumped up, this once scene HAS to do it.



[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oDTNEEu3Rw"]YouTube- Rocky IV - Training Scene - Hearts On Fire[/ame]



Silence in the darkness creeps into your soul
Envy moves the light of self control
The gate that holds you captive has the door
Burnin' with determination to even up the score

Heart's on fire, strong desire, rages deep within
Heart's on fire, fever's risin', high
The moment of truth draws near

Time will not allow you to stay still, no
Silence breaks the heart and bends the will
Defense is guilty passions out of control

Rules and regulations have no meaning any more

Heart's on fire, strong desire, rages deep within
Heart's on fire, fever's risin', high
The moment of truth is here

OH!

Is here
Oh yeeeeeaaaaaah!

Heart's on fire, strong desire, rages deep within
Fever's risin', energizin', right up to till end

Heart's on fire (heart's on fire)
Strong desire (heart's on fire)
Rages deep within
Ooooh
FADES-
Fever's risin' (heart's on fire)
Energizin' (heart's on fire)
Right up till the end
Ooooh
Heart's on fire (heart's on fire) (heart's on fire)
Strong desire (heart's on fire)

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Choices

Choices… yeah, we all have them. What we do with them defines who we are.

Take me, for example. There was a Christmas party last year at my Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu dojo. Started at 7PM, and went until whenever. It would have been a good time. But I had to work at 7AM the next morning, and when I got off at 4PM, I was not going to want to go train at that time, or have to deal with an after work crowd. And it takes me an hour… both ways… to get out to the dojo. And of course, I wanted to make my gym time before work. This meant that in order to do that, I had to get to the gym earlier than when I normally do, so I had to go to bed an hour earlier to get up an hour earlier to start getting in my meals for the day and stay on track. SO… there was no party for me. I had my priority. I had two choices, and I made mine, and stuck by it, and was proud of it.

It means that much to me. Never mind that the food would have been decent, that there was a girl out there that I would have wanted to see, or that there were several hours straight of old UFC matches… forget their tale of the tape… what does that do for me and my tale of the tape, as I look to increase some numbers?

Not a damn thing.

Choices… yeah, we all have them. What do you do when you are faced with the hard ones? You knuckle up, bear down, and face the music, be it good or bad. When you want something, sacrifices have to be made if no compromise can be had. Is it hard? Fuck yeah. Is it worth it? FUCK YEAH.

At least it is in my world… I cannot speak for anyone else. But day in and day out, Life is nothing but one big choice… live it, and live it on your terms, or just let it run you into the ground. Not me… it does not go down like that here.

So the guy that does nothing with himself, wants this, wants that, but does nothing except complain about how hard it is… more power to him… that is his choice. Keep having a hard time running around the block, or not being able to lift anything heavier than a sack of groceries. Girlies, when you tell me that you do not want to work out and lose weight because you do not want to lose... as you put it, your "big, luscious, thick ass"... fine… go right ahead… sit there and do nothing. But do not complain when no one wants you, the fat girl. That obviously must be what you want.

Pity… what they all really want is pity.

Fuck you. You cannot have it.

Do not let them suck you in. Do not give it to them. Their life... their time... what they are is what they want. Let them live with it, because you have better things to do.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Drive

Ever have those days when you feel like you are missing something in this thing we do? Sometimes you just hit a wall, and wonder where the fuck it came from? Those are the days you feel like you want to stop.

Brothers and sisters… it gets like that some days. But you have to remember why you are doing this, and you do not need one reason, and only one reason. For me, part of my reason is for a guy named Ken.

Ken was my training partner back when I lived in Michigan for several months during 2003 and 2004. I walked into the original Powerhouse in Highland Park, and knew I had a new home. The real lifters outnumbered the casual lifters greatly. Powerlifters, strongmen, ex-competitive bodybuilders (or so they said), lots of cops, lots of fire fighters, lots of locker room and street pharmacists, and a whole host of others who would be going behind the closed door, or who had just gotten out from behind it. It was great. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of purpose and a sense of urgency in every rep. Ken was one of those lifters.

When I started there, I was the new kid on the block. Everyone saw me day in and day out, either training for myself, or training clients. People came to know me eventually, and much like anywhere else, I formed a bond, and cemented my spot there amongst the guys and girls. However, despite all of this, I worked alone. Looking around at the eclectic group there, I noticed… big as hell, strong as hell, but it was all wrong as hell, and I could not trust any of those guys to help me take it to the next level. I studied them all though… the only one who stood out was Ken, a powerlifter who was making his way into strongman. I could trust him, and so I did. We started training together, and we had a mixture of everything… bodybuilding, powerlifting, and strongman. Good times indeed. I remember so much of it like it was yesterday. There was a good amount of progress made, and a lot learned.

All of that came to screeching halt on September 1, 2004. Ken was a Detroit Police Officer, but the pay was less than stellar. He took a job as a bouncer at one of the strip clubs there at night, and on that day, the bullet was fired that was the beginning of the end of his life. For whatever reason, management sent him out with two guys, and one went to his car and got a gun. Ken took the shot in his abdomen, and 12 hours later, he was gone… struck down at only 28-years-old.

It was about a year before I got back into the gym. That shit really tore me up. Exactly one year later, the restriction was lifted on officers moonlighting for extra money, and they were allowed to take second jobs. He wanted to better provide for his family, and he had to die in the process. For that to happen a year later was just another blow to the gut for me. That shit pissed me off.

I have a lot of reasons for wanting what I want, and doing what I do. But none of them I can articulate as clearly as this one: A big part of my drive is Ken. Man, he knew where I was going, and wanted to be. And he was the only one who believed that I was going to get there, while everyone else refused to. He pushed me hard. He knew I had the potential… and this was someone that I knew less than a year. I took my approach and workout ethic back to formula with him, and I have what I have today, which has made people duck and dodge me in the gym, and training partners quit, leave the gym, and never ever come back. Sure, I still have the desire to be bigger and harder as my drive in the gym. But Ken added to it because he is no longer here to see this. His goals… unfulfilled, are now mine… at least one of them.

I do this for a lot of reasons… suffer through the monotony of the diet, deal with the blinding pain of rebuilding and binding muscles, sacrifice a great part of my better years so that tomorrow, I can be more than I am today… yes, I do it for me, but in his memory, I do it for him as well. This is my drive. Have you found yours?

There are going to be days when it seems like this world, your world… it moves in slow motion. What do we do? REMEMBER. Whatever it is that drives you, find it and hold on to it. Coming to a standstill is only an option when you are in gridlocked rush hour traffic on the way home from work.

I will continue to push, to see that he is honored properly and fittingly…

2011… Arnold Expo… Ken and I are getting together for one more good time.

Rest In Peace, brother. You did well.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Stranger

Man, I do not even fucking know you.

That is what went through my mind this morning as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Different than what I used to be, but not yet what I wanted to be, I see nothing but a man trapped in Limbo, suffering from some kind of sick and twisted mind fuck. Yeah, I have put in the time, and have reaped some reward… but in the grand scheme of things, this shit is nothing but a drop in the bucket, and the motherfucker is deep.

I have the tools. I have the talent. I have the know-how. I have the time. And yet, it just does not seem like enough. I am guilty of wanting… of dreaming. I dream big. But that son of a bitch looking back at me is not big. Well, at least, not big enough… bigger than this time two years ago. But that is a small consolation for me… I want what I want, and I will not stop until the mission is complete.

In the gym, people stare, whisper, get skittish, and do anything else to show that they are out of their element when they are in mine. They can see it in my eyes, and feel it in every rep that they watch me do, but are too relaxed in their endeavors to do themselves… they know I want it. They have to know that I need it. The urge to crush poundage is as strong as the heartbeat inside of me, and it cannot be denied. I would not even know how to if I wanted to… that is how I know this journey is real, and how I know that there will be no getting off course. Give me the gritty, grimy, hard to tow purgatory of this pursuit anytime; watch me eat it like 12 oz. of flank steak, and ask for more. I know where I am going, and it is not in sight just yet, but I know it will be, and I cannot even sit still while thinking about it. Yes, indeed, someone better is coming.

That is right, goddamnit… I know who I am looking for, but that motherfucker in the mirror is not him; he is a stranger. You know… I might just want too much… nah… fuck that, there is no such thing. I want my absolute best. There is nothing wrong with that. And anyone who would tell me otherwise is injecting something other than Cyp or EQ, and they need to go back to wherever the fuck they came from. This is not going to get me down. In fact, seeing this stranger is exactly what I need some days. He pushes me to go farther every day. I still do not like his weak ass though… fucking stranger.

But oh yeah… when he, that image that I have envisioned, when he finally does show up, you can most certainly believe that it will be party time.

[Gaoshang Xiongshou]

Scarred for Life

As I recently heard it said, “Accumulating injuries is the price we pay for the thrill of not having sat around on our asses”.

Fuck yeah… that spoke to me for real. Stuff hurts. Stuff aches. We might leave bits of skin or traces of blood wherever we happen to frolic with the iron. We love it. We live for it. We need it. Given a choice, we just might die for it.

And today, as I moved from one set to the next, changing the weight, I happened to look up and saw a metrosexual guy giving himself the once over in the mirror.
Now, I understand a guy wanting to keep his appearance up to pull the ladies. Far be it from me to stop any guy from his pursuit of the booty. But man, it was 5:40 in the fucking morning, and there was not a woman anywhere in sight… so why the fuck was he in the mirror checking his goddamn hairline and teeth to make sure nothing was stuck between them? What the hell is that shit?! And then he went back and grabbed his 10’s, stood in front of the mirror, CROSSED his legs, and started to press.

What. the. fuck?

Is this the type of thing you all see? Do you at least see it from time to time? And as he put the weight down, I saw his hands… he looked like he had never done a hard day’s work in his life. Looking at his physique… if one can call it that… he damn sure did not do anything in the gym.

Priorities = shot to fuck. And people wonder why they do not get anywhere in the gym, and just give up…

And then I looked at myself… looked at my hands. They were scarred. Ugly… worn… palms cracked, with rough calluses from griping iron death like my life depended on it… skin dried out and peeling… slivers of flesh poking up from pinched fingers and fingertips.
I look at my legs, and see the bruising from dragging the bar up and down my shin, and scar tissue on the knees. I look at my face and see the hard lines that have been etched in from my years of struggle and torture just to prove something to myself first, and the world second.

Look at all of that, friends.

And then zoom out like I do, and get a look at the big picture… the body that has paid the price, and now reaps the rewards… the body that has been torn asunder under the harshest weight that you can bear, moving that shit like you were unstoppable and goddamn invincible, and still comes back, begging for more week after week. All the hurt in the world is worth it when you are face to face with the man in the mirror, and your greatness. You can look at yourself and say, “I did this shit”. Not just say it, but say it and know it. Fuck the pretty… life is not supposed to be pretty, and to us… this is life.

Yeah, looking at us, those who really care and have a fucking clue, we have battle scars. I wear mine proudly. And I am scarred for life. Capped delts, twisting highways of veins, a back thick like a side of beef, and legs that look like they can kick a hole in a brick wall… yeah, I will take my scars for sure.

Everyone else can worry about their hair, nails, and makeup.