My two old reliables, my two dirty old weights, my two old friends.  They were my first pair of weights in 8th grade and they still get used to this day.  The sound of the old chipped-away metal dropping against the ground is damn near therapeutic to me. During the tough times, I always had them. They were there for me, and because of that I always find my way back to them.   

They are used so much that the orange and brown rust stains stick to my hands, almost as if they were bleeding out like a deer during hunting season.  Sometimes it's so bad I have to wear gloves in order to not get tetanus.     

No, they are not the only weights I ever used.  Honestly, I rarely use them at all anymore.  But my dad always tells me that “loyalty is a key component to life”. So I am loyal to them just as they were loyal to me. Somehow or some way I always find my way back to them 

 They are a symbol to me,  a symbol of dedication and hard work, and A symbol of the grind that changed my life.  They represent all the progression over the years of high school because they are where it all started.  They took me from an afraid little kid walking through the halls of a giant ass school to a confident young man who is eager for the future. 

They are worn-out, old pieces of metal; however, they will forever and always represent the path that I took to get where I am today. And quite frankly. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without them.