Smile

My friend who now lives in Oregon, over-estimates me. When I told her of yet another up-coming surgery I was to have…. she said, since she’s known me, I’ve always had a warrior’s spirit. Ha! If she only knew how I trembled in fear and recoiled in anticipation to pain.

I was somewhat of a loner when Lin and I became friends. I was 19. She was 6 or 7 years older. I worshiped her. We met and worked out at the only black iron gym in town. No chicks were allowed. Somehow we managed to talk our way in. There were 4 of us in a gym full of muscle heads, power lifters, body builders and college football players, with AC DC blaring on the stereo as the soundtrack to that part of my life.

Of the women… one was a world champion power lifter, one was Ms. Colorado (middle weight body builder), my friend Lin was the first woman fire fighter in Colorado (part of the BLM and smoke jumpers unit during fire season). Then there was me. As a very young woman I endured an event that forever changed my life. For the longest time I thought maybe I had caused it, brought it on myself, even deserved it. So when I found the gym, I found myself. And with a little bit of effort, I could keep up with the fellas.

I enjoyed the camaraderie and the musty smell of sweat that just got stronger with each repetition.
My hands looked like “man’s hands”, dried out from chalk and covered in callouses.
I lived to feel the iron in my hands or a bar across my back.

I think that chapter in my life prepared me for many of the challenges I faced or have yet to face.

We thought of ourselves as Warriors.

We were invincible. Loyal. Strong.

I’ve a few scars, a few wounds but my friend Lin is right.
I am a Warrior.