Many people know well of my pursuit of achieving physical greatness. It is not an attempt to somehow prove my worth to the entire world. It is for MYSELF. I spent most of my life in a state of misery and did not feel as though achieving anything at all was possible. At age 23, I found myself immobile. I often cried myself to sleep. I believed I was no damaged and all physical pursuits for my future were null and void. My childhood dream of competing in Olympic track and field were now turned into nightmares that literally woke me up crying with my numb legs flailing in a strange attempt to allow me to once again be a track star. I do not often speak of my athletic history, but my foray into the competitive world of athletics actually began at age 6. Somehow, I managed to receive a second place medal for varsity TCIS states in 8th grade while drinking alcoholically. I am still unclear on how that happened.
We will now skip ahead to my current situation. I am 41. Unless time travel is possible, I can say with certainty that I will not be a 20-year-old track star. Life changes. It is up to us to adjust. Track is no longer my goal. I have a new dream. Weightlifter. Trust that it is hard as hell for me. Many people do not know that I have an extraordinarily difficult time gaining muscle. I am genetically tall and thin. Sinewy. Weightlifting was never my goal: but here we are. To quote Rocky: “I wanna be a contender!” And come hell or high water… I will be.