Sometimes I wonder how this guy came into being. What he was made of, where’s the list of ingredients, and who stirred the pot 🥣. No one has ever asked those questions, no one has really investigated why I did such things. What was my motivation, and where it came from. My only reasoning might be obtained from competition between my brothers community family faith and friends. The friendly competition made me stronger and helped me engage with others likeminded. I was enabled to face challenges much better considering I had a real life experience. Maybe this helped me to loose weight and try fitness?
I can vividly remember being raised with three brothers who were very competitive. Constantly racing on the bicycle, climbing up a wall or rope, possibly running in a field nearby. A lot more activities, this is just to name a few. We spent the entire day racing running wrestling jumping lifting and exploring all the time somewhat continuously.
Sometimes I won, sometimes I did not. It was all just fun, we did not cry or give up we just proceeded to the next activity better luck when the next game comes. I was not rewarded by merit alone or given first place for sympathy. We did not get a boost head start at the beginning of a activity, nor did we get special coaching. Everyone got an even chance to win, and to get a chance to stand on the podium. It was equal opportunity to get attention for a great effort and for trying.
I feel that this spirit resonated through out the entire communities in our generation back then, and the bond that it created never left my person. When we went to school it was there. On the school bus 🚌, at the play ground, at church, and in the home 🏡.
All of the above mentioned reasons is why I answered the bell when I was faced with weight loss fitness opportunity. Maybe it was all of the connections spent on days of competition with my brothers. I think it was community construction 🏗
One day while riding on a century (100 miles) bike ride in Kentucky, thunderstorms appeared and it started raining ☔️ profusely. It was really bad⚡️potholes could not be seen, vision was seriously blurred, raindrops in my eyes, water soaked clothes, unstable braking and shifting, unsure traction, cold hands. Riding a bike in this environment was a little dangerous. Life threatening and I was nervous. This was something that I had never done before. Not something that I wanted to do. However, I saw other cyclist riding in this monsoon. I saw that I was not alone. I was not by myself, and I heard deep inside a loud statement! If he can I can.
As a result I continued to ride through the lightning the massive downpour, and the dangerous conditions. I pedaled on my bike because I competed against someone else, and I was just as good as anyone. I can do this! Eventually the sun came out at mile 80 and I completed my ride right along side my riding companions.
Maybe it was the environment received in my childhood. Maybe it was our generational attributes passed down by our community family and friends.
If you look above and see my before and after weight picture in the about section in memorial fitness, do not say that I can’t do that. Say
If he can I can
Memorial Fitness 