Man, I'm not the guy who puts his business out there often, if hardly at all. I could win the lottery or lose my home to a fire, and nobody who wasn't close to me would know. Right now, that's going change.
I'm 14 training weeks out from the Arnold, and I'm in a jam. Not only did I take a long time off (6 months) after last years Arnold, after getting back under the bar I ran into a ton of shit. I hurt my knee, out two weeks. I hurt my back, out two weeks. I had to have oral surgery and got my teeth yanked out of my skull- all while being awake (fun). I'd train a couple of weeks, finally make some ground, and something would come up. I couldn't string together a solid four weeks to save my life; I'd all but given up on competing for this coming years Arnold (2019).
Combine all that shit with all the everyday life stressors such as, kids, relationships, jobs, moving-- hell I'd waste an hour bitching and complaining, I'm sure you all get the point anyway. It all finally came to a head one week, and I just said fuck it, it's not in the cards. I justified this pussy act by saying to myself "I'll train, and if it's not there in time I'll find a different meet." I thought doing this would remove some of the pressure. Pressure makes diamonds out of coal though.
This shit keeps me up at night; it wakes me up early in the morning, I pass my exits on the highway and forget why I'm where I am momentarily. I had a dream about a frog in the middle of the street and being run over, I think as soon as I wake up its a sign. I assume it means to change the course of your training. So I did. (laugh its ok)
I can't just bow out of the biggest meet I compete in, especially after winning back to back years. So I had to dig deep in my britches and grab them atrophied nuts of mine and get to work. I'm not running any program- I'm not taking a very scientific approach. I'm going to go balls out and do stupid shit and make this work.
I might not win, hell, I might bomb out or get smoked, but one thing I know is this. I won't have to sit in a gym one day wondering what if I didn't puss out, what if I gave it everything I had. The mear thought of having to ask myself "what if" scares the fucking weakness right out of me. Also, if someone else is going to be crowned champ, I want them to beat me, and in this game, you can't use the bullshit excuse I wasn't 100%- because let's be honest, were never 100% not on this level.
So, until March rolls around I'll be going all in, fuck it, what do I have to lose, a meet? Yeah, that'll be shitty. Will my pride take a hit? It sure will. I'm sure my inflated ego will come back down to cruising altitude too. The flip side to that shitty coin is this; I can look myself straight in the mirror and say yeah motherfucker you lost, but you let them little Irish nuts swing for nine attempts, and that is commendable.
I know there are a ton of guys and girls on Elitefts who give out so much knowledge. They answer questions, they pass on, they truly are passionate, and I respect that. I'm out here in the trenches living and learning, and I swear on all things close to me one day this rah-rah side of me will simmer down. I'll collect my thoughts from all my outrageous endeavors, and I too will pass on what I've learned. Until then I'm going to let my nuts hang like there ain't no curfew.
A training partner of my once said to me, fuck it- I'll try it. I'm not afraid to buy a one-way ticket. Ernie Jr. may not have known it then, hell, he may not realize it now, but I've built my career off that ideology. Down, but not out, my backs against the wall, now it's time to fight my way back. Life said fuck off; I can't help but laugh-- challenge accepted.
FYFM