My body is not a work of art. My body reflects the art of work.

I wear every decision, the good and the bad. I have lifted countless tons of steel, torn my muscles to make them bigger. I have studied and prepared, weighed my food in grams, counted every carb and considered every drink of water. I have no pads or uniform in which to wrap myself, no teammate to assist me when I fall short, no one to help me carry the weight of my ambitions and the pain that comes with it.

This is what I have learned. The stronger I make my body on the outside, the stronger I must be on the inside.

That’s how it is when your body is your body of work.