(Author’s Note: this week’s Emotional Fuel is coming out early, and is dedicated to a small subset of readers on the list. May they read this every day for the next two weeks, in hopes of holding it all together.

Yuri, I saw how bad you were hurting this week. It‘s almost over.

Liz, I saw today how tired you are. It’s almost over.

Carly, I know your body is wearing down. It’s almost over.

Brandon, I haven’t seen you recently, but Nikki told me today that you’re struggling. Don’t worry, it’s almost over.

Joe and Mandi, I haven’t talked to you in a while, but chances are you’re hurting. It’s almost over.

Brian Denny, you get off the hook slightly earlier than the rest of us, but you’ve been working just as long and as hard. And it’s almost over.

To my beautiful wife, Nikki– I watch you every single day, and know how hard you’ve worked, and how much you’ve achieved, and how you’re just WAITING to take a tranquil breath. Don’t worry, baby, it’s almost over.

For everybody else competing in two weeks– the end is in sight; it’s almost over.

And the minute it’s over, you will miss this as one of the greatest journeys of your lives, despite the pain and sacrifice. So enjoy the last two weeks.)

You have 14 days left. You have suffered. You have been tired. You have been beaten down. Your head hurts. Your joints hurt. Your body is screaming at you to stop. But you don’t. You won’t. You can’t. Not now. You can sleep in two weeks– hell, you can die in two weeks– as long as you suffer through these last two weeks.

Remember why you got into this. Remember the joy, and the fun, and the excitement. Remember the feeling of going to the gym every day, and crafting yourself into a better person, a stronger person, a more confident person. Remember taking ownership of your life. Remember watching all the videos of the champions before you, and the sweat as it rolled off their heads into tired pools on the floor. Remember, you chose to do this. You were not forced. You did this because you wanted to be great. And now, you’re on the cusp.

Set the world on fire. Tear it down and destroy it. Show yourself what true intensity is, what flame is, what passion is, what drive is. Show the world will, and force. Be prepared for suffering and misery and hunger and pain. Nothing in this world is free. Nothing comes without a price. You will hurt. But you will triumph through it. No great warrior won a battle without exchanging something great. No great athlete ever won a game without pain and sacrifice. To arrive without pain and sacrifice is not to arrive at all. It is worthless. Put on your warrior face, your mask, and show no emotion. Be a monk, a samuri. Put your hood up and go, without stopping, without fail, without crying, without breathing. Learn to exist without air. Learn to exist without food. Learn to exist without sleep. You can breath and eat and sleep when you are dead. Until then, you are just a machine. You feel NOTHING. You just move, and lift, like a hydraulic, like a piston blowing up bigger and bigger loads. You never quit, you never stop. Auto-pilot. Like a tank rolling across the landscape. With the lights off, climb the stairs. Don’t even say prayers to yourself. Just move, in a state of silent meditation. And then, you will be great. You will create yourself from scratch, assembling cells into a thing that is more than beautiful. Until then, you are nothing.

And Ghengis Khan said to his children, “Show me nothing of what you feel…. Show me the cold face that you will show to enemies who taunt you. Remember that they too are afraid. If you have ever wondered if you were the only coward in a world of warriors, know that they feel the same, to the last man. In knowing that, you can hide your own fear and stare them down…. Breathe gently through the nose to slow your heart. Your flesh is a weak thing, but you do not have to listen to its cries for help. I have seen a man push a knife through his own flesh without blood falling. Let that strength come to you and breathe. Show me nothing and be empty…. Your body is like any other animal in your care…. It will clamor for food and water, warmth and relief from pain. Find the cold face and you will be able to shut out its clamoring voice…. Your body does not rule you…. It is a stupid beast that knows nothing of the works of men. It is merely the cart that carries you. You control it with will and with breath through your nose, when it calls for you to pant like a dog. When you take an arrow in battle and the pain is overwhelming, you will press it away and, before you fall, you will return death to your enemies.” (Ghengis: Lord of the Bow)

I have a burning sensation behind my eyes. It lets me know that I am tired. It lets me know that I am pushing the boundaries. It hurts, but it feels good. When I stop– when I pause– when I rest my lids– the burning sensation tells me to either leave them closed, or to open them again immediately, to push on and weather through it. The burning red is my alarm system, my guardian. It periodically creeps in and tries to envelop my head, but I fight it. It is artificial alertness. It is the coal smoldering beneath the surface of the engine.

In 14 days, you can be ordinary again. You can eat when you are hungry; you can sleep when you are tired; if the pain of lifting weights hurts too much, you can take a day off. You can re-embrace sanity. You can return to the world. But for 14 more days, you will not. You must not.

Some people concern themselves with great external wars. Our war is internal. Some pursue large causes. Our cause is personal– the perfect control of oneself, self-discipline and self-mastery. The rest of the world ceases to exist. It is merely you, in a dark, quiet room, and your struggle, and your straining, and your pain– and a test to see how much you can endure. Just a few more steps. Endure it.

-David A. Johnston