sweat and tears

i go to the gym and i sweat it out. i pump it out. i punch it out. i work it out.

i’m finding reason in every movement. my heart pounds, my face reddens. determination overwhelms me as i’m surrounded by images of winners, legends, many of whom have walked and still walk the floors of this gym. two of whom are my trainers. my brothers, the owners. this gym, limbo gym, breeds champions: for serious bodies

photos of girls in high cut leotards lifting dumbbells with big hair and sultry looks on their faces, glare at me. toned women. fit women. enviable women. a photo of a man, a huge man, with the caption: shut up and train stares me down. just get on with it. no excuses, no complaints. pure determination. he keeps his eye on me.

there’s a feeling, when you know you have pushed yourself to your absolute limit. when your legs shake and your body groans for the energy it has been depleted of. and you’re puffing for more space in your lungs and lactic acid has you on fire but you know deep down, you can still do more. because you can still do more.

i haven’t been defeated. there’s more puff in me. so much more.

things are falling down and things are crumbling into unrecognisable pieces of my past, of goals i thought were foolproof. but that’s okay. shit happens. 

i can’t control everything that happens in my life but i can control how i allow it to make me feel, the reaction i have, what i choose to do about it. and what do i choose to do? i choose to sweat it out. and that makes me feel good. right now, it’s all about me.


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