author’s note:  Some of this is probably going to end up in a fictionalized book at some point.  It’s real life here, but it’s going to be written in a way for me to stretch my literary muscles a bit. So expect things to be a little more introspective and possibly more dramatic than usual.

“What’s hurting?”

It was a pretty simple question.  It should have had a simple answer.  Instead I looked at her and said, “Huh?”  She rephrased the question slightly, “What’s hurting you? You’re making a face like you’re in serious pain.”

I chuckled and replied “Oh! That’s just my face. Here, I’ll smile.  Just for you!” She chuckled, I chuckled and grinned.  I really didn’t think that 20 minutes into my 3rd boxing class was an appropriate time to unload 20+ years of baggage.  Then I returned to beating the holy living piss out of whatever obstacle was staring back at me from the mirror. I kept smiling.  Unexpectedly, I think it helped.

When I’m in class and shadow boxing I’m looking at a couple things.  First, I’m literally coaching myself.  I’m watching foot, hand and body placement for mistakes that need to be corrected.  I’m new but I’m also a perfectionist.  So I’m dissecting every swing, every step, until I’ve got it the way it should be.  Unlike when I’m coaching I’m staring straight into the eyes of something that is standing in my way.  So I’m also looking at a non-existent opponent.

Since I’m looking in a mirror, naturally, I see my reflection.  However, I’ve got a fairly vivid imagination.  So sometimes the face staring back at me isn’t me.  It’s been everything from a new challenge in life, a bully from 8th grade, an ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend, a new girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend and all the way to my own Father.  Alot of the times it’s a sort of demonized version of myself that exists purely to punish me.  Sometimes all of those others make up the last one.  Sometimes the visions of my Dad have components of the others and I feel like I’m fighting 32 years of genetic doom.

So, the short answer to her question, the one I couldn’t actually tell her, is simply “Me. I’m hurting.”

If you saw me walking down the street today you might assume I was a jock of some sort.  I resemble the stereotypical broad-shouldered “meathead” type.  A buddy of mine with whom I used to ride BMX nicknamed me “Sean Diesel.” Not so much because of Vin Diesel, although we do have the same haircut currently, but more so because of Shaquille O’Neil.  Shaq has long been nicknamed “Shaq Diesel” and has a propensity for the Superman “S” shield that rivals my own.  Myself, my buddy and a few other guys all made up the “over 30″ contingent of guys that ride little kid’s bikes (aka BMX).  Of that group I was the one who rode like a linebacker: big, burly and a little clumsy.  I looked like a two-wheeled Mack Truck.  Thus, “Diesel” just fit.

I started riding BMX primarily because I was NOT a meathead.  To this day I can’t throw, catch, hit or do pretty much any other objective sport that requires moving round objects around an area of play or into a goal.  I was the kid that didn’t do sports.  Usually those kids are known as “target practice.”  I was an artistic/creative kid.  I wrote poetry, drew pictures, often doing both in vain attempts to woo girls like some sort of Romeo beneath a castle balcony.  I don’t think I need to explain how well that all worked out.  Shakespeare is a dick.

Here’s a simple comparison, here’s me at age 17 back in 1993/94: (sitting next to a girl over whom I would pine for much longer than necessary and nearly twice as long as we actually spoke):

This picture is me from July 4th, 2008.  I’m standing next to Jes (aka “Jewie”), who I only recently realized was actually a girl -because she was always “one of the guys”- and without whom I would be significantly less sane than I am now.

I’m pretty sure I’m wearing a large shirt in both photos.  In ‘93 I’m not sure that my arms were any bigger that that girl’s arms.  In 2008 I’m fairly certain my shoulders are as big as Jewie’s head.

The only real difference between those two photos is the 60+ pounds I managed to put one in the last 15 years.  I only *look* like a meathead. I still draw and write poetry.  I still not-so-secretly hope that doing so will somehow unlock the door to some woman’s heart.  I still read/love comic books, collect action figures and watch cartoons.  In the second picture, if you look closely, that is a Captain America shirt.  At the core of my being I’m still the same kid who used to get beat up for his lunch money.  The only difference is, now, I look more like the guys that used to take my lunch money.

I didn’t put on the weight to prove any points.  Despite the faces staring back in the mirror, I never hit the gym and thought “this’ll show ‘em!”  When I got out of highschool I did my best to leave as much of that scene behind me as possible.  Many of those people I could care less to ever see again.  I didn’t go to my 10 year reunion.  Not because I had anything to prove but because I still keep in touch with anyone I would have cared to have seen there.  I wasn’t interested in pretending I gave a damn about a bunch of people whose names I couldn’t remember without a nametag.

I have no desire to go back and seek some sort of retribution for my 14 year old self.  If I still carry that baggage I use it to get stronger, not to get revenge.  Revenge is pointless.  To hate that much is to give them too much of my time.  I try to only invest my time in things that are worthy. Even when I’m wrestling with the demons that reside in that baggage.

My focus in the gym is on myself.  The amazing thing with a good workout is that it’s 110% honest.  If you’re not paying attention it *will* break you in pieces.  It won’t do it to be malicious.  Weights don’t have vendettas.  The punching bag doesn’t know or care who you are.  It’s not personal.  You can either lift the weight or you can’t.  You can either land the punch right or you cannot.  The only thing holding you back is yourself.  Once you’ve conquered one step you can move onto the other.  If you move too quickly, you’ll get knocked back where you belong and will have learned a valuable lesson in the process.  To paraphrase -poorly- from Henry Rollins: “Life will feed you bullshit all day if you let it.  But 200 lbs. is ALWAYS 200 lbs.”

I put on weight in my early 20’s because I made the JV cheerleading squad at UGA.  Coach told me “son, you need to put on some weight.”  So I did.  It was a means to an end.  I loved cheerleading for UGA, I was honored to be on the team and I was willing to do what it took to earn my place.  I soon found that the training helped my mind as much as it did my body.  I took to calling it “Batman Training.”  For me it was a way to be something *more* than just a man.  Enduring a grueling workout was way more effort than most of the crap I dealt with all day long.  Shitty jobs, bad relationships, broken hearts, none of it mattered.  I could go into the gym and sweat, bleed and cry until my entire body cried out in agony.  Then it would heal and I could do it all over again, but more.

I didn’t get big enough to, as Jes says, “lift people up” just so I could show off my arms in tight sleeves.  I’m not trying to be a billboard that says “ask me what I bench.”  I’m not trying to makeup for physical shortcomings.  I’m proud of what I’ve done and I’m not going to buy XXL clothes in some false sense of humility either.  I workout and train, particularly recently with boxing, for the same reasons Batman does.  I do it to become something more than just a man.  I do it because it’s the chance to *actually* wrestle my demons.  More importantly I have a chance to *beat* my demons!  Most gyms have pictures of Schwarzenegger or Muhammad Ali.  I definitely look up to both men.  However, my gym has pictures of He-Man and the words “Keine Entschuldigungen” (german for “no excuses”) painted on the wall.  When I get through a workout I want to be able to say “I HAVE THE POWER.”  In 1993 I was Prince Adam.  In 2008 I want to be He-Man.

“What hurts?”

“Everything, but that’s okay.  It means I’m alive and getting stronger!”

1. Mickey Price Says:
   November 12th, 2008 at 5:52 pm

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