Revision #1
His eyes shot open as he sits up gasping
for air in a cold sweat. ‘Nightmares’ he thinks to himself. This has been same
nightmare that has been plaguing his sleep for as long as he can remember; a
continuous sensation of falling, hitting the ground and then the fearful
awakening. He looks at his phone screen and it shows 7:36 pm. Jumping out of
bed, he walks out of his room and into a living area. There is a young girl,
about his age, sitting on the couch, “Hey how was your day?” he asks. No
response, only a glaring stare. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “You missed it,” she
says back. ‘Shit, we had dinner plans,’ he remembers. “Hey, I’m sorry, I just
kind of got home and fell asleep. It was a bad day,” he says. “That’s just
everyday for you isn’t it? Bad day? Everything is gray? You’re alone? I’m
trying to do things to try and help but I can’t do this by myself,” she
responds. “I’m fine; I don’t need any help or anything,” he snaps back. She
stands up and walks close to him so they are almost face-to-face. She has a
frustrated look on her face like she is trying to find the words to say and
finally she just yells. “You never have been able to get it through that dense
skull of yours, you need me and without me you would not be here; I mean, the
brain can be the weakest or the strongest muscle in your body and yours is the
weakest, all you do is ignore what you are feeling and put a smile on your face,
but how long can you even keep doing that? It is not going to work forever, you
cannot make it work forever; you are physically and mentally unable to do so. I
know you cannot, you are weak and all you can do is sit and feel sorry for
yourself and not try and fix anything and it’s actually pathetic.”
He was taken aback by what she said. She
sat back down on the couch, head in her hands sobbing. His mind began to race
with what to say as he stood there in shock. She turned to him with tears
streaming down her face, “Are you going to even say anything?” He opened his
mouth to say something but quickly closed it. Emotions began to race over him:
anger, fear, sadness, and hopelessness. He collapsed onto the ground and also
began to cry. “You know what I’m most scared of?” he said with through the
tears. “I’m scared that you’re right; what if I can’t get better? What if this
is going to hang over my head for the rest of my life and I just can’t move on
with anything? Of course, I need you and you’re right, I probably wouldn’t be
here without you and that scares me. How could I be so dependent on a person? I
know I’m screwing up with everything; I’m trying to keep it all in check, but I
can’t sometimes.” She turns her head, “Yeah I know, I’ve heard this all before,
you know.” She gets up walks in the bedroom, slamming the door behind her and locking
it. He lets out a sigh, gets up and walks over to the sink splashes some cold
water on his face and walks out the door.
It is a nice night, not cold enough for a
jacket, but not too warm where it is uncomfortable to be outside. He lights a
cigarette and takes a right down the street towards the waterfront. He gets to
the river and looks out over at the city across the river. The lights twinkled
across the building and the hustle and bustle of traffic could still be heard
this late at night. He let out another long sigh. “I can’t keep doing this,” he
said to himself. He lite another cigarette and kept walking. There were a few
other people out: runners, dog walkers, couples out for a late night walk. He continued
on and then slowly began the trek back to his apartment. He gets back in a
throws his keys in the bowl. The bedroom door opens. “I’m sorry for all that, I
didn’t mean it. I just got upset is all,” she says walking out and hugging him.
‘What is the point anymore,’ he thinks. ‘This is the same conversation we
always have and we always come back to this.’ But this time felt different; he
felt better and for the first time in a long time he felt a sense of happiness.
‘This is going to work, I’m going to get better for the both of us.’ They kiss
and he looks at her, holding her face he says, “It’s ok don’t worry about it. Want
to watch a movie?”
Original Prompt:
“You never have been able to get it
through that dense skull of yours, you need me and without me you would not be
here, I mean the brain can be the weakest or the strongest muscle in your body
and yours is the weakest, all you do is ignore what you are feeling and put a
smile on your face but how long can you even keep doing that, it is not going to
work forever because you can not make it work forever, you are physically and
mentally unable to do so, I know you can not, you are weak and all you can do
is sit and feel sorry for yourself and not try and fix anything and it is
actually pathetic.”
Revision #2
Runners are a
different type of animal. They can deal with pain better, cranking out
seemingly effortless workout intervals, or just being able to go out and run
for what feels like forever. Never to be considered “normal”, runners are some
of the weirdest people you will ever meet. Sometimes, it’s a good weird; other
times, it’s a not so good weird. Running
frees the soul; no matter what the problem you have it can be solved by putting
on your shoes and just going out there and running 5 or 6 miles. Running became more than a sport for me, it
became a lifestyle. I made my best friends through running and I have some of
my fondest memories with these people. Running
was always something you went out and did no matter what. You could have
had the worst day of your life, but you are going to have a grueling work out
ahead of you. I kind of relate running to life; it sucks while you are running,
but when you get to the end, you know you accomplished something. Life will
always suck at points and you can just hope that everything will get better at
the end.
I started running when I was in the 6th grade.
My dad was always a huge runner. He has probably run about 10 marathons. I
think there was always a drive in me to try and start running to follow in my
dad's footsteps. I ran distance events in middle school, specifically the mile.
I was placed to run the mile because I could run the farthest on the team
without getting super tired. By the end of 8th grade, I could run about a 5:40 mile.
While I realize it was not the best time, I had an amazing time getting to that
point. Then the first day of track came in high school, and the head coach
split us into two groups: those who run sprints and those who would distance.
Being a scared and intimidated freshman, I went with the sprinters because
those were my only friends. In short, the first two years of high school
running were a complete joke of a sprinting career. Then, going into
junior year, my coach decided it was a good idea to switch me to distance running.
Becoming a distance runner was one of the best decisions I made during my high
school career. By the end of my junior year, I had broken 5 minutes in the
mile. While, I was nowhere near close to being good, I had made leaps and
bounds of improvement in a season. My senior year was plagued by lack of work,
missing meets, and injury. The only improvement I made was a 4:50 mile the last
race of the season.
When I think of my career as
a runner, injuries have always been a direct associate. By far, the worst injury
is sprained ankles. My ankles started acting up in 8th grade and I did not
think much of it, but after about two weeks and one race, I decided to stop running.
This decision was made solely on the fact that I could barely walk straight.
Taking the time off was a good idea because I was ok until
about sophomore year of high school. It started with one sprained ankle. Ok not too bad, I
can probably keep running through this. Wrong, so wrong. By the end of that
week, I had three sprained ankles and was on crutches for a month. Ok, maybe
not three, but the way it felt I might as well have been growing an extra ankle
just to mess it up. After this, my right ankle became permanently injured. I
had to wear a brace most of the time and could run without it on a really good
day. The brace did not really stop me too much, I would keep spraining it and
then get better and the cycle would keep repeating. I would always have to keep
running through it because it would be close to big races or the middle of the
season so you learn to run through the pain.
The worst injury I ever sustained was
senior year. During my cross-country season, I tweaked my ankle during a 5k and
ran 18 minutes, which is not very good. After the race, I got it checked out
and the trainer said it could possibly be a problem with my meniscus. Because I
thoroughly enjoy over-estimating my youthful body and it’s healing abilities, I
decided to keep going with the season. In my defense, I was the 5th person on
varsity and we did not actually have anyone else to run. That cross-country season
ended without major injury, which was really good and surprising. Winter track
season was when it got bad. The pain in my knee never really left and it hurt
when I would bend it or extend it too far. So, I was in the middle of a mile
race and I got tripped, caught my balance and kept going. I finished the race
and then noticed the stabbing pain in my knee. I put a little tear in my
meniscus. That ended my season. I went through another break with track, but
came back for spring season, determined to finish senior year right. I
sustained small injuries here and there, but nothing major.
Original Prompt:
-Why did
you initially get involved in the kind of lifting that you do today and where
did these goals come from?
-I
understand completely what you mean at the end of your last paragraph. Running
was always something you went out and did no matter what. You could have
had the shittiest day of your life but that will not change the fact that you
are going to have a hard ass work out ahead of you. I kind of relate running to
life. Shit sucks during the running but when you get to the end you still feel
really shitty but you accomplished something. Life will always suck at points
and you can just hope that everything will get better at the end.
I started running when I was in the 6th grade. My dad was always a
huge runner. He has probably run about 10ish marathons. I think there was
always a drive in me to try and start running following my dad's footsteps. I
ran distance events in middle school, specifically the mile. This was because I
could run the farthest on the team without getting super tired. By the end of
8th grade, I could run about a 5:40ish mile. No, it was not the best time
but I do not know it was still fun. Then the first day of track came in high
school, and the head coach split us in half between sprinters and distance
runners. Being a scared, intimidated freshman, I went with the sprinters
because those were my only friends. The first two years of high school
running were a complete joke of a sprinting career. Going into junior
year, my coach decided it was a good idea to switch me to distance and it was
the best decision I have ever made. By the end of my junior year, I had broken
5 minutes in the mile. I was no where near close to being good but I had made
leaps and bounds of improvement in a year. My senior was plagued by lack of
work, missing meets, and injury. The only improvement I made was a 4:50 mile
the last race of the season. I always ran outside of school too. Lots of
5 milers, and 5ks, and half marathons. Running became more than a sport, it
became a lifestyle. I made my best friends through running and I have some of
my fondest memories with these people.
Andrew, my question for you is what is your end goal of weight
lifting?
- I
am glad you asked about injuries. I have been plagued by injuries throughout my
running career. The worst is sprained ankles. They started in 8th grade and I
did not think much of it. After about two weeks and one race, I decided to stop
mainly because of the fact I could not walk straight. I was ok till
about sophomore year of high school. It started with one sprained
ankle. Ok not too bad I can probably keep running through this.
Wrong, so wrong. By the end of that week, I had two sprained ankles and was on
crutches for a month. After this my right ankle was pretty much fucked for
life. I had to wear a brace most of the time and could run without it on a
really good day. That did not really stop me too much, I would keep spraining
it and then get better and the cycle would keep repeating. I would always have
to keep running through it because it would be close to big races or the middle
of the season so you learn to run through the pain.
The worst injury I ever sustained was senior year. During my cross-country
season, I tweaked my ankle during a 5k and ran an 18 minutes. Which is shit. So
I got it checked out and the trainer said it could possibly be a problem with
my meniscus. So I decided to keep going with season since I was the 5th person
on varsity and we did not have anyone else to run. Cross-country season ended
without major injury which was really good. Winter track season was when it got
bad. The pain in my knee never really left and it hurt when I would bend it or
extend it to far. So I was in the middle of a mile race and I got tripped
caught my balance and kept going. I finished the race and then noticed the
stabbing pain in my knee. I put a little tear in my meniscus. So that ended my
season. I came back for spring track and battled a few injuries here and there
but nothing too
major.
My question for you is what is some advice you would give someone
just getting into any sort of weightlifting?
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