Post realization

A small shoplot on the 3rd floor tucked away in the corner of Sunway. Dust afloat. Heat fumes so intense they almost seem visible to the naked eyes. Climbing up the stairs to the gym, our first gym, sometimes felt like taking the torturous road to the gallows. Gallows, I still recall that being a word often passing through my mind...

It was back when I worked part time whilst studying. The so-called themed shopping mall served nothing more to me than a pool of opportunity to earn some pocket money. It felt great at that time, being able to earn what seemed like loose change to most who shopped at the mall but I didn't really care. I was working alongside my brother and friends, memories cherished very fondly until today. With the amount I earned, I was barely able to buy a curl bar, some weights and was introduced to the world of supplements. Supplement stores suddenly made more sense to me on their existence and each time I strolled by, I could see the products glittering on the shelves like gold from the side of my eyes, calling out to me, luring me. It felt, probably, like what a girl would feel when she pass by a shoe shop. "I want to try everything". Maybe that is the closest I would ever come to understanding 'what women want'. This, in turn, brought light and new meaning to the words 'nutrition' and 'diet'. Thank God for the internet for it aided, in a lot of ways, my research and hunger for knowledge.

The gym. It was our place of solitude. A temple. A foundry. An institution. The place where the body was further put to test by means of grit, determination and steel. It was a luxury Trainwreck and I could afford. Mind you, the monthly payment was NOWHERE near what pencil-neck yuppies are paying the sneering 'all-glamorous' fitness centres to maintain their scrawny physique. Sauna? Outer Space Treadmills? NASA-made Machines? River of 100plus? Bullshit. We didn't need that. Those are for the weak. Stepping into our gym was like making an oath each and every time we entered. No fucking around was it. If you're not gonna go all out, then get the fuck out and go home. You want to know what is hardcore? Rusty and basic equipments. Wall fans. Torn carpeted floor. Sweat and heat laced air. That is hardcore. We were standing in the midst of people who knew what they wanted: To go beyond the limit.

We joined the brotherhood. Of Steel. Of Pump. And between Trainwreck and myself, Of Blood.

-Zeus