Resurfacing Always


As the night rides on my muscle fever continues.  I poke, I press, I antagonize the inflammation and allow it to become my muse.  The wires in my brain start to cook high up on a thousand-and-one electrifying speed thoughts.  But as quickly as they peak is as quickly as they vanish without a hint of fizz.  I, then try and manage to get the wires to spark?  No!  Instead my reflections flicker in and out like the Coconut Vanilla candle I just lit.  I look down at the splinters of the wooden floor and I imagine this is how my broken fibers are:  Rugged and Coarse.

I think about the night before and how I can’t help but find the obnoxious within people (men) who always want me to prove to them if I can walk how I talk, if I can push myself pass the mind/body limit and into the measureless profundity of my spirits existence, if I can outshine their masculinity even though/when they view the nature of my essence/physically with inferior femininity.  “Is it my friend’s fault that he loudly pitches his voice of how he envies my passion of Training?  That he wishes he can devote his being into the elliptical until it beats fluidity without the burden-thumping of his 400lb stature?  Does he have the right to push me to go as hard or harder than him because his sole purpose is to see if he can somehow manage to break me right before his eyes or mine?”

I can almost hear him under his heavy asthmatic breath: I think it’s possible. I think it’s possible. I want to believe she can be broken if I bulldoze her mental space and her physical pace.

I laugh because there’s nothing to prove to anyone. I’m comfortable in my own skin. I don’t need to compare myself to anyone because I love who I am. I strive to master my own domain. And this is better than what most of the masses can say about themselves as a whole. I wish he knew in his gut that he cannot break me. Only I can do this to myself. I wouldn’t allow myself to fail in his eyes or another. The only failing I did involved: Muscular Failure. And every time I failed, I smoothly shook it off with a 5-second rule and hit it again to squeeze out every last bit of muscle empowerment/exertion reps I’m worth. Pure mind fuck!

You see,this my friends is another old story resurfacing once again. Man feels weak next to the strong woman who exudes naturalness in her every being. Man wants to increase his weight even if it’s by 5lbs so mentally he can quiet his ego down.  (Maybe to him it’ll suffice?) Man fears he would never get my approval so he starts to play catch up with me through training just to see if I’m going to point out “Wow! You didn’t disappoint me.”

But sadly these types of men do very well disappoint me.  They disappoint me with how weak they brought their own character to be.  How determine they are to seek my/others approval.. (knowing damn well they should never rely on anyone but themselves).  How they allow their ego to get in the middle of our training session. How I don’t have to work as hard as they because I’ve done my years. (I’ve built my discipline and passion by standing on my own. I’m very well on my way to whatever greatness I envision.) How they manage to lose sight of the good in me by placing their horrible void of how they feel about themselves deep down in the way. The way of my helping them get to Point A to Point B.

I snuff out the candle. I wave at the crack of dawn. I now ask myself two questions: Do I have the right to remain guarded whenever this type of situation arises? And do I have the right of way to choose between giving a helping hand or not helping those who require a heavy dosage of confidence because I know they’d like to silently try and beat me down subconsciously or….?…

This is all.

-Pennington

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