I wrestled. I lost. Yet I walked away with a smile on my face and pride in my heart. I may have to scrape for every single bit of wrestling time I get, but I will scrape. I will find some way of continuing this pursuance of wrestling. I do love the hard work. I do love the sore muscles. I do love the stinging bruises and the cut lips. I am madly in love with wrestling.
I couldn't see myself as being a particularly great starving wrestler so I went to West Point, but I find myself somewhat fettered here. I have some thoughts that will remain reserved on the subject, but other than that I felt more free today than I have in years since I came to the academy. Last year at NYAC International Open I felt scared and I left crushed and defeated. This year I actually... had some fun. I lost, probably worse than last year as far as results go. But I had improvement. Oh I felt the improvement, it was like a high. I just kept on feeling it in disbelief.
It was possible to overcome my situation and make progress in wrestling? And all I had done was form one link in a support group. One person made a year's worth of difference in me (and maybe I exaggerate a little but I'm trying to make a point). I need to expand this support chain. It's the only possible solution. I have someone who will support me through thick and thin, now I need a practice partner or something like it. Maybe I just need someone to kick my ass in freestyle once a week.
So much to plan. So many possibilities! I am amazed yet humbled by this. I feel like chiding myself, "See... that wasn't so bad was it? A little bit of hard work and effort actually pays off more than grumbling and cursing the system." But I'm happy to have realized it at all, so I will continue to bask in the joy.
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