There are moments in life that take our breath away, good
and bad. I’ve had more than my share
over the last couple weeks, and sometimes it’s hard to take it all in. I feel small and fragile in one moment, and I’m
an unstoppable force the next. People
come and go from your life and they all change you, from the sweet woman who
came through my line at work and suggested a new way to cook spaghetti squash,
to the friends I have had for my whole life and continue to love me for me.
I remember a man I knew from the gym. He was a little older, overweight, he drove a
cab and he wanted to fight. He was there
every day, even if he had to take the bus.
He was losing weight and improving, humble and willing to learn from
anyone. Time and politics moved us to
different gyms. The fight community is
small and we would still run into each other from time to time and it was
always awesome to see how he was growing.
There’s no gentle way to say that he was shot and killed
weeks before his first fight. He had
worked years toward this goal, and never got there. As tragic as this story seems, I think the
real tragedy would have been if he had given up. From experience, I bet he woke up that
morning thinking about his fight, a few butterflies in his stomach and a little
smile. I bet there wasn’t any regret for
the time he’d put in at the gym. Truly pursuing
one’s passion is a victory in itself.
I struggle and I sacrifice, but I don’t suffer. I sweat, I bleed, and I cry, but I am blessed
because I know what I want. Working
toward that is never work in vain, even if I never get there. I will not have regret in my final moments,
because I gave it everything I could.
Rest in peace Blackie, your spirit lives in my heart and
continues to inspire me. May we all wake up on our last morning holding our dreams, or at least reaching for them.
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