I fly out soon. From sun to moon. Thinking about the coffee on the plane, where I will write an article or two. Up and down I go, landing city to city while my thumb rubs my callused hands, in anticipation of a weightlifting wonder land. A bag full of tools ready to hammer these weights down. Nail gun for the superman pull as we stay over longer than an extended stay back in my meth days. Days of dark now warmed by the window seat of light, as I watch the sun rise in flight. Another trip away from home. Another flight home, as I connect with people a feel an erg to know.
Airports I know so well, as people walk past me in fast forward. Alone I sit, a nobody to them, but someone to you. Another coffee down, as my ambition to change the world touches ground. Seat belts off while off I go, running from the non-lifters in a dead sprint I go! The gym rat gate is know where to be found, only the cloths and shoes of the gym owners I see wave me down. A high-five and a fast car ride we drive. To the gym where we feel most alive.
Greeted with smiles and at times hugs, hand shakes firm from the heavy lifting from floor to above. A gym full of magic, I have made it safe and sound. I have found my place in life in this gym in a un familiar town. Away from home, but home at last. I find comfort in the gym as a rat does with cheese. With he bar I am free. Accepted in this community is all the acceptance I need. Eager to coach and excited to motivate. We are strangers that know each other well. Connected by the bar and all it does. An unspoken understanding that speaks volumes from one look upon wide open eyes. Getting better is the betterment of our training, as pvc pipes turn into bars. Coffee turns into c4. Music turns into blood flow. Atmosphere turns into pr’s. A personal record is a personal gain that personally effects each athlete.
Glad to belong. Happy to have a song.