Promises Kept (Can't Hurt Me)

There is a poster on my bedroom wall depicting a masked man armed with an AK-47 assault rifle aimed directly at the camera.

At the top the poster reads: Today, somewhere in the world, someone was training to kill you. At the bottom it asks, What did you do today?

I stare at it on the days I feel like nothing and it reminds me of the shooting at Los Angeles International Airport on November 1, 2013.

There are indeed individuals in the world who wish to do us harm, for reasons we may never fully comprehend or understand, and that reality pushes me to become the things I always talk about.

Stronger, faster, smarter, healthier . . . better.

Because the fact of the matter is this: somewhere out there is an enemy preparing for me; therefore, I need to prepare for them.

"Every time you train, train with the discipline and purpose that you will be the hardest person someone ever tries to kill."

"But . . . why? Why does it matter?"

"Because when we do meet, on the battlefield or elsewhere, I want to be ready for that one-on-one rendezvous with fate. No factor."

Gerardo, you never got the chance to make it home to your wife and kids. I know my own grief by comparison is miniscule - your family lost a son, a brother, a husband, a father; I just lost a friend.

Nonetheless, there was a lesson to be learned in your sacrifice. It was a horrible lesson to learn in such a brutal and callous way and I wish that sort of profound and disgusting experience on absolutely no one, but the lesson - and subsequent clarity on life and death - was learned all the same. It can't be unlearned and the implications - as well as the sacrifices made - are never far from my mind.

The aluminum bracelet around my right wrist helps to keep you close old friend, and I will continue to carry the burdens of this world in your absence. You hold it down on your end and I will do the same on mine, until we meet again.

"El patron por vida . . . el patron por siempre."

"Cada día que estoy vivo hace que todo valga la pena."