You'll See

I'm  here again.  The fans are whirling.  Metal is clanking.  I rub on icy hot.  It makes my muscles feel warm  and supple when really they are tight and sore.  Deep breath.  5 sets of 5.  My legs shake under me.  The veins in my temples ripple and a single bead of  sweat rolls down the side of my face.  I put my hands on my knees and try to gather myself.  I look at the shelves of weights.  They are old and beat up.  They stare back at me ominously.  It's like they know I'm  tired and they are waiting to finish me off.  Chains rattle and pulleys tug on giant bricks of metal.  These torture machines are so cruelly designed to make you hurt.  I run and after I'm  standing in a puddle of sweat it fills like the ground is still moving.  My legs quiver and my arms weight 1000 pounds.  My heart pounds in my chest.  doubts flutter around in my throbbing head.  "I'd love to put you in, but I'd like to win"  "You're a good player, but not a great one"  "Maybe if  you work hard at practice you can play JV"  "You run too choppy" "You're too small"  "pick up garbage under the bleachers"  you ask "what are you still doing? Why are you still trying?" and I'll say "You'll see"