Rage: Part 2

[xythan_shadow]

The rest of the week, my workouts were?uninspired. I maintained the same weight I had lifted before and the same number of reps. There wasn?t much improvement, but that wasn?t the major concern on my mind. The primary thought that I had was my triceps. Every time I looked in the mirror, they called to me. They seemed to say, ?Look at us. See this indention? Yeah, that workout really kicked ass.? Then I would flex them, always where no one could see, and amaze myself at how they actually popped out. Now, it wasn?t as if I had 23 inch guns on my body, but for a fat guy like I was, to see even a little muscle obey a command was a exhilarating experience.

But, on the flip side of that coin, I knew, deep down inside, it was because I had let that rage overcome me. I was torn: One half of me relished the power. It was like The Incredible Hulk. Not the turning green and growing into a huge monster, but the feeling of primal strength that Bruce Banner felt when he transformed. I had felt that and it was liberating. The freedom and primitive nature of it was so far from the calculating and examinating nature I was used to. And I could tell that I wanted to be able to feel that more, to be released from all the knowledge and thoughts that clouded my head.

The other half of me looked at this from a logical standpoint. I had no idea what this feeling was. I knew some stuff about psychology, but nothing I had read or heard about gave me any clue to what I was experiencing. It wasn?t bi-polar or schizoid or any of the common mental illnesses. What if it were something serious and letting it run rampant caused me more harm than good in the end?

All these questions ran through my head the whole week. I kept weighing the pros and cons of each possibility through my head, but in the end, it was my arms that made the decision. Every day I saw them, I saw the potential. To my eyes, my triceps stood out like a sore thumb. They were one silver lining in the dark cloud of my body and on my chest day, I finally decided I would try it one more time.

I warmed up normally, a few stretches, then a light set of machine bench presses. After I was finished, I got up and turned to the machine. I stared at it with all the intensity I could muster and thought to myself, ?You will not beat me today!? I focused myself into getting myself angry again, to let that rage consume me.

But this time, nothing happened. I stood there for a few minutes, listening to the horrible music, trying to draw strength from that rage but was accomplishing nothing. I was dumbfounded for the longest, until I realized that I really wasn?t trying. It was like I was standing on the edge of a pool. I knew the water was cold and I would probably drown, so I was just dipping a foot or a finger in, expecting the same results. I knew, deep down inside, that if I wanted to experience that again, I would have to jump in feet first and let it completely engulf me. The only question that remained was, ?Am I really ready for this??

And in my mind, I jumped head first into the blacky depths of my unknown rage. I let out a deep breath, closed my eyes, and said to myself, ?I am a monster. I am strong, I am powerful, there is nothing in this gym that can beat me. These weights are MINE!?

As I kept repeating my impromptu mantra, I could feel it rising again. But this time, instead of cautiously approaching it, I embraced it fully. I felt the heat of the rage wash over me like a tsunami wave and I opened my eyes with a focus I had never experienced before.

It was exhilarating! My body seemed to thrive with each rep I did. I pushed harder than I ever had before and I reveled in the power and strength that I was feeling. I went from exercise to exercise with determination and the single-mindedness of a man on a mission. And I knew exactly what that mission was. It was the complete and utter dominance of every single chest exercise. I can?t even recall how much poundage I was tossing around, but I know it was a lot more than my normal workout.

I went through my workout a lot faster than normal, but something happened near the end that once again scared me. My idol, my mentor, the guy I wanted to be like more than anything just happened to walk by and saw the ferociousness that I was applying to my workout. He came up to me with a smile and laid his huge hand on my shoulder. I spun around and was about to slug him before I even knew it. Thankfully, I stopped myself just in time, but it slightly jarred him. He laughed and said, ?Kinda jumpy aren?t we.?

I could do nothing but nod. He smiled some more at me and then went back to his group. I snarled at myself, wishing I could be right there, lifting with a huge stud like him. I wanted to be there, spotting him as he pumped out those huge weights. I wanted to be able to openly watch him as his muscles bulged and flexed. I wanted to be part of the gang so badly. A random though crossed my mind, ?I know I?m better than that twig right there. I should show him how weak his is and take his spot. I could crush him easily, break his stick legs.?

I shook my head hard. I had never, in my entire life, wished to harm someone. Not even the bullies who beat me up constantly in high school and here I was thinking about breaking someone?s legs just to take their spot in a clique? I reeled at the thought and immediately ran to the aerobics room and the heavy bag. Again, I pounded away on it, trying my best to drain away the rage that was clouding my senses and reason. But this time, it wasn?t draining as fast. The bag thrashed around its anchor and I could feel the skin on my knuckles wearing down. It wasn?t until they were bleeding and streaks of crimson were running down the bag and pooling on the hardwood floor did the last remnants of the rage faded from me.

I stood there, staring with morbid curiosity at my ravaged hands and the blood flowing from my open wounds. I knew that it took a lot more to come back. The red puddles on the floor was testament to that. I said to myself, ?This can?t be a good thing. If I do this any more, I could hurt someone, not just myself.? I resigned myself to never try that again.

But, when I looked up and saw my chest in the mirror, I knew I wasn?t going to be able to keep that promise.

[Ryne]

Wow, really starting to get good now! I can't wait for more! Major Props!

[redroger11]

Great stuff so far, man. I could see the big guy that is so encouraging having a pair of boxing gloves next time the hero finishes his work out. Now wouldn't that throw the soon to be big guy for a loop. It sounds like you have some really cool plans for your characters. Keep Writing,Big Guy.

redroger11