i’m turning 32 on valentine’s day. it’s not a real problem for me - the age thing isn’t.
nonetheless as i see another year piling on, i begin to stock of some of the things i’m still doing, some of the things i’ve stopped doing, and some of the things i met yet do.
two things i do to this very day are work out and fight.
what’s interesting, tho, is how my reasons for doing them have changed.
the core reason, it seems, is the same.
but all the superfluous, stupid, image reasons have fallen away.
i used to box because i didn’t want to be pushed around.
i used to wrestle because guys in high school were plenty happy to fight 2 and 3 on 1. and i really didn’t know how to back down. and i was a little guy, too.
now i like to wrestle and box because i like the GAMES. i like to PLAY. and i like to watch things grow.
and i like to lift because it is MINE. it cannot be TAXED or TAKEN AWAY. the work i do (like most people) for a living is BULLSHIT and hardly pays a LIVING WAGE and i live very simply. my relationships will rise and fall, none of them will be permanent, and so i will lose each of them. but what remains mine?
this crap that is me. this breathing, walking turd that thinks it knows something.
that’s why i work out.
i steal a bit back for me.
i’m the underdog. everything is mounted against me. coporations, spouses, real estate, governement… you name it. its hard to be the little guy.
but at the rack, i steal it fucking back.
i do something to help ensure that i can control the 3 foot of space that surrounds me if i have to. to push myself out of it if not to push someone else out of it.
and that is the lowest set of bricks on the pyramid and also the widest.
i steal it back.
i play these games.