It's a long time....

 Yes yes...I know I post this photo every year...both on December 6th and on Father's Day.  For the longest time, it was the only image I had...But I have a few more now...at least on my computer.

 

This one is super old...well, not really, but look how young.  40 years ago this year, he died......The photo below is how I mostly how remember  him, I choose to...40 years this year with out a Father....some have less time, some have more.  I remember thinking 40 or so years ago, that he must have been old...after all he was dying, and it's a child's view point after all.  

This anniversary is one I generally nod to...I post a photo, I move on.  But 40 years seems a little odd.  Perhaps a good time to think a little more, pause a little longer, think on things that were, and things that never were. 

I am pretty sure I never saw him as a saint...I never held him up as something he never was...He was a man of his time, not this imagined perfect Father that I almost had "if only" he had lived. Well, I lie...during some difficult times, I often wondered if I would have behaved differently if I had a father figure growing up.  Would I have had someone standing near me to not allow certain things....to step in and challenge a man about the treatment of his daughter?

Who knows....as I said he was a product of his time...there were things thrown, faces slapped, and worse.  

But now, as I age, I do often feel him closer, realize he was standing there saying to me....this is not how my daughter is to be treated.

I have no illusions that if he was alive now: that he would, at the very least, try...as my Mother has to support my youngest son...but I am guessing it wouldn't be smooth.

And in quiet moments, as I age, as Emery needed his grandfathers, they were both there.  Billy Joe was there for him as he was for me.  As an adult I had some wonderful years with my father in law.  I know he loved me too.  I know they both love Emery and have watched over him.  Billy Joe more so than my dad..as he had a relationship, albeit a short one, with Emery before he passed. But, on the day of his surgery, and the days after, Emery wore his Grandpa John's police uniform shirt....

And maybe Emery looks just a little bit like the young man in the wedding photo above and he looks a little bit like Billy Joe as well...

So these Father figures swirl around us both. 

They let us feel their presence occasionally and for that I am grateful even 40 years later.

There's no crying in the squat rack.

So, I posted on Facebook the other day that I started crying during a bench workout.

Honestly, I had no idea why at the time....it was my third set, I placed my hands, tightened up my shoulder blades....and looked at the bar.  I looked that the knurling...I looked at my hands...and tears started.

THANKFULLY, it was when the weight was still light so I did not have a spotter yet.  I had everything and nothing floating through my head. 

I spoke with a friend about it....and she thought perhaps it was the "safe space" thing. 

You know...the gym is my safe space...

But...I wasn't upset about anything.

Or?

Ok yes...I just closed a show, a significant piece of the show is about using weight lifting as A SAFE PLACE TO FEEL.  You know...feel the weights...of...things....

During some of my darkest days...BJ and the Zia/Praxis crew were there....allowed me to fall apart and allow me to let the weights help rebuild me. 

And well, it was just about a year ago that Praxis closed their doors.

You know what?  Little has changed for me...I fucking HATE working out alone.  I have been doing it for a year now.

I
DON'T
LIKE
IT.

I'm doing it....but I don't like it.

I like my long distance coach....James...He got me stronger...until I had to back away for the show.  And....he understood why I needed to back off...he wrote baby workouts to keep me moving, but not to push me.  Shit, I even had 2 lifetime PR in throwing this year.  Crazy.

Really?  Kinda amazing.

He gets that life pulls you in all sorts of directions thing.

But...I lost it again yesterday.  In the squat rack...well, I didn't lose it, but I teared up.

There really is no crying in the squat rack....

Then a surprise...I saw one of the old Zia folks and we talked~at length~about peanut butter and PB&J sandwiches.

Is it the same, no...but it never is....it never will be.

So we roll with it....I miss Hersch and Brittany and Josh and Faith and Gilbert

and....and....and.....but I got to have that time with them...I had a tight, supportive, smart, funny community to work out with once. I'm lucky I have that to miss.

Dead lifts on Friday....please let me hold it together....