I was probably bitching.
Most likely whining about not being able to chow down a plate of cheesecake or enjoy a nice hoppy adult beverage.
I’d even wager to guess I was slouching in my chair with my shoulders slumped and that distant look in my eyes.
And he asked me, “Why the hell are you doing this?”
The question.
The question, again.
I blurted out, “winning.”
I knew that wasn’t a good answer, so I straightened up, threw my shoulders back and slapped on my you-wouldn’t-understand look.
I don’t think he bought it any more than I did.
It troubled me deeply that I still didn’t have an answer.
It also bothered me that the first few things that came to mind were things I’d never say out loud; to anyone.
I stumbled across a painful reminder of the past tonight.
I’m a very sentimental and emotional guy, but something about this didn’t shake me like I would expect it to.
All at once the answer came to me.
Happiness.
Happiness.
I’ve never felt particularly proud of myself or my life.
I’m a life of unfinished chapters.
Ellipses and early exits.
I never reached my potential, nor applied myself as much as I could have.
I regret so many decisions.
But this, this fight is my chance at redemption.
Redemption even for a fleeting moment.
To stand opposed to my nature.
To finish this.
To finally feel like I’ve accomplished something.
To overcome and prove to no one else but myself that I’m worth something.
To be happy with me.
Is it going to feel good to prove people wrong?
Sure.
Will it be a moral victory for me as soon as I set foot in the ring?
Absolutely.
All of the peripheral reasons are still motivation.
But the root of all of this lies within myself.
This one’s for me.
-Drew
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