A little Story about Me

Climbing that mountain, feeling my lungs on the edge. One step after the other. It has been a while since I exercised.

I promised myself this year though, that it was already time to go back to that grinding.

I have always loved being active and been involved in sports and martial arts throughout my life. The flow in movement, the feeling of your body, it is a marvelous machine.

Few people know, nowadays, that I used to be a martial artist…actually, a professional fighter.

I buried some memories and past loves, broken dreams with my broken heart, my aching joints.

So, I look up at the mountain, she inspires me to be stronger. All the mightiness, the peace, are so enticing. There I go, hiking slowly, huffing and puffing. Long gone are the days when my body felt like a well-oiled machine. I resented it for quite some years. I resented it for not being this way or the other way. I used to judge myself so much.

Truth is, it has brought me all the way here. And for that, I am grateful.

Feeling the aches and pains, my chest tightens, my breath shortens. But I keep on walking, up the mountain. I stop, I catch my breath, I keep going.

Then, images from a past life come to my mind. When I was a fighter, when I used to hike often, when training was easy.

This body brought me here, it has been a long road and still, here I am, in one piece. I shake those thoughts and focus on my steps. On my breath. On my heartbeat.

The view is so peaceful. My lungs are aching, pinching me inside, burning. Fucking burning.

I enjoy it either way. That pain reminds me that I am alive, I´m still alive and kicking.

Cmc.