This in from the new "interactive" blog: "Dude! Why don't you change that [blog]? You're making me read the same s*** twice!" -"L-Man" from all the way over in San Antonio, TX. Thank you, L-Man. Now, keep those comments and questions coming! So, without further ado, and with much haste (for the masses are clamoring): These past 10 days have been... "je nais ce qua".... So, I was talking with my really good friend, Renee, about working out. In case anyone's still wondering, I'm a Christian; I'm not religious, by any means - it's a spiritual thing, a way of life, dig? I write that because it's relevant to today's story. Anyway, we were talking about working out and how I just have to do it because it centers me like nothing else in this world does. I mean, there's gigging, yeah - but that's more an act of "one-ness" with God. Working out puts me right in the center of the ring (ie: fight) and serves to remind me of how weak (spiritually speaking) I really am. I work out 6 days a week - 3 on some pretty serious cardio and 3 on cardio with weight resistance. What that boils down to is that I'm on the treadmill, going as fast as I can walk, with 3-pound weights in my hands, on grade 10 (out 15), for 45 minutes. It gets my heart rate up to about 180 or 190 bpm, and my clothes get pretty wet from that kind of excerption (even my socks!). Aside from the normal "runner's high" that comes with that, there's a point right about mid-way through that I just want to give up. Every single time. I want to give up because I'm tired, my arms are burning, my legs are starting to feel weak, there's sweat in my eyes, my heart feels like it's about to make an exit in the front of my chest, my calfs are throbbing from the incline, and my spirit is whispering in my ear, "C'mon. Just give up. What could you loose? You're tired. You've earned it. C'mon. You know you want to... it'll make you feel good. Besides, there's always another day. What's one little day? No one's going to know...." And that's the way my (spiritual) life is. Here I am busting my hump to get this "thang" off the ground, and I've had obstacles after obstacles come in my life, but there's nothing that's going to get me to quit. Nothing. See, working out is physical training, yes - but it's spiritual training, too. How many times have you chosen to satisfy the flesh without even batting an eye about what it's doing to you spiritually? That's not a sermon. That's a serious question. I do it daily! Let me paint a clearer picture here. The first time you quit, it ain't so bad - and you've satisfied the yearning of the flesh. But you've set a precedent, spiritually. The next time, it won't be so hard to quit. The time after that, you won't think of quitting as bad thing. It gets to the point where you don't even start anything because your spirit knows it's going to quit - then you start to feel bad about yourself. One day you're sitting around thinking about how different your life would be if you'd just have the chance. But you've quit your chance away all those times ago. I know because that's the story of my life, man. Can you dig? So, I'm there. Working out. Giving it all I've got. And when I hit that wall - and inevitably I hit that wall - I close my eyes and whisper, "Jesus, I need you. I can't do this without you. " Oh, he doesn't make the pain stop, he doesn't give me super strength or extra power. But he does make me feel better, inside, knowing that I'm not in this fight alone. That's what life is like for me. I have to put myself there to remind me that I can't do it without Jesus. I've proven to myself that every time I think I can steer my own boat, I sink it. Every time I think I can keep on with the work out, I quit. But every time, and I mean every-single-time I ask for Jesus' help, I finish. I'm not religious. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you. It's a spiritual thing. It's a life style.

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