The Bond of Iron
You’ve never met em’ before, but you could slip easily into their shoes and walk a path so familiar you’re certain those old footprints were left by you.
Sweat, chalk, callouses, bloody shins, deep gasps for air.
Everyone that walks the path knows the feeling.
The dullness of cold iron in your hands, your heart panicking; waiting to burst through your ribcage at any moment, battery acid being pumped through your veins
A word needn’t be spoken. There is already a mutual understanding and appreciation.
Injuries, aches, pains, ice, wraps, straps
You’ve both been there, you’ve walked that same path
Late nights, early mornings, day-in, day-out, consistency, dedication, grinding
It’s no wonder so many friendships are formed in the gym.
You can meet someone for the first time, take one look at their scarred shins, calloused hands, a body that’s been ground down or built up, and you “get” something about them. No matter that person’s race, religion, sexual orientation, hairstyle, or choice of deodorant, you understand a part of them, an unspoken appreciation for their effort, because you’ve been there too.
So here’s to those close-knit circles, the support, the admiration, the goals, and the mutual respect. Here’s to the bond of Iron.
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