Posts tagged "The Dream"


I started writing this while I was having my post-workout meal of chicken and veggies. Like anyone can, I figured, I should be able to eat my meal cleanly with utensils so I can type on my laptop. A few clumsy minutes later I had that who-am-I-trying-to-fool acceptance and just tore into the chicken with my hands and devoured it in speed.

Pro Practice:
— Three rounds general warm-up
— Seven rounds hand fighting
— One round of six minutes of one man against the cage, and every minute a new person locks up and goes for the takedown while the objective is to be taken down the least amount of times when it’s your round to be against the cage.
— Thirty minutes of grappling
— Drilled a short series of achilles locks grips: From basic position to cup and saucer, from cup and saucer to curling your chest in and grabbing your bicep, from the chest-curl-bicep-grab to the Italian Salute; from least to most painful. Also quickly went over the shoulder roll to defeat the toes curled back defense.

I was taken down seven times, which out of the seven of us there was the third best, not bad in a room where I’m outweighed by everyone but one typically by atleast thirty pounds. My balance on the single leg defense is good, but I’m aware that I freewheel an in-air butterfly-ish position when picked up from the high-crotch, which is typically where single-leg goes against me; this is good, it works, and I need to note it. My focus feels good, I’m feeling more in tune with it, and can call it up when needed; I think I credit this to my more focused breathing.

Couldn’t have an evening practice, I was pretty bummed about it. My car is broken and I had work at seven; it was an hour walk and a half-hour bus ride. You gotta do what you have to do, I guess. It seems that no matter how much I work, and how much time I give to giving effort, I can’t ever come up; I’m broke, broke, broke.


Pro Practice:
— Three rounds shadowboxing
— Three rounds bagwork
— Six rounds Kickbox sparring
— Five rounds MMA sparring
— Three rounds grappling with punches.

Lackluster. Nothing was working for me standing up, just getting hit and countered by the real basics. It felt just like one of those days where you’re off and nothing works, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself and let those thoughts manifest through my acceptance—that’s giving up and helps nothing. Focused on baiting the leg kick and shooting in on their kick, which was decent and I should keep high on my priority lists of takedowns. Grappling felt strong, the principles I learned from Javi are becoming stronger and more effective.

No car, no night training. I’m also very exhausted from the two hour walk home from training today as well. I think I’m just drained spiritually. I have to run to work tonight to teach classes, I’m going to take my mask out running for the first time. Should be a tough three miles. Blah.

Getting My Engine Running (In More Ways Than One)

Woke up to a text from my manager to be ready for March 27th, fighting for King of the Cage. He said they’re just discussing pay and opponents right now, so hopefully that goes smoothly enough and it’s finalized in writing.

I’m devoting today to motivation. I spend an awful lot of time getting myself excited, motivated, and generally just amped up to go and do what I love with as much energy, will, and appreciation as I can. I have a lot of videos I save, of all different sorts (most about things I really have no interest in), that I keep just to get my motors running. I like seeing people in their element, at their happiest, and just transcendental in motion. So today is for that!

Best of Life:

Ales Novak, Rope Climbing

Blake Griffin, Basketball

Pavel Stankevich, Amazing Strength and Handbalancing

Rodney Mullen, Skateboarding

My Very Favorite MMA Highlight

In My Opinion The Best Grappling Tournament Ever

Car is fixed, soul on fire, body rested. Aaaahhhh!

Gotta Love Yourself

People, if you’re immediately around them, don’t want you to succeed; they don’t want to see you walk a nobler path if you’re walking besides them. They want you to drink because they drink, they want you to eat bad foods because they eat bad foods, and they want you to fall to whim and ease because they do. It’s nothing mean spirited or plotted, they just want you to be like them because it validates what they do. Everyone would love to see their hero in everyday life being the everyday Joe, doing the things they do and living something normal, but it’s just not true; the best are not living something normal.


Pro Training:
— Anaerobic warmup.
— Fifteen minutes, nonstop, kickbox sparring
— Single leg takedown against cage sparring, offense and defense
— Wall walking drills (shoulders)
— Wall walk reversal drills (legs)
— Cage reversal drills (rip, lean, turn)
— Fifteen minutes or so of rolling with strikes
— Guard pass drills (MMA): One man down, every man gets 30 seconds from standing to pass his guard. Everyone gets a round down.
— Five minutes MMA sparring.

Working on the changes in my standup, and liking the result. I like the effects of the pressure the style gives. Grappling and wrestling felt solid. Need to make more emphasis with my left mid kick every time I throw it, will do. Feel good.

Night Practice:
— Warmups
— Fourty-five minutes of rolling
— Drilled flower sweep and counter against it (posture and hipping in). Immediately transitioning to a stepping over the head armlock series.

My job is demeaning. It’s something that is heavily scheduled around in my day, and for my efforts I made 14 dollars tonight. I scheduled my day around 14 dollars.


People teach themselves to love beer, like cigarettes, or slowly enjoy a whiskey — things that at first make them cough, cringe, or waters their eyes; but they can’t learn to enjoy the long walk, appreciate quiet or inconvenient prides, or love the energy and clarity that comes with healthy living enough to foster nutritious ways. We’re lazy, unhealthy, and our energy is bad. It’s a sinkhole.

The last set from the other night of me playing around on the rings. Not the cleanest of sets but whatever. Give it a try!

3/12/11 and and and

Woke up late and got to the gym. No warm up, just immediately started sparring. Did about seven or eight rounds. Rolled a little. Felt off, but it’s Saturday and I just put it to body being weary.

Not excited about dieting. Feeling a little depressed; I think it’s mainly a mix of relationship stuff, dieting, and some hidden nerves about fighting. I don’t like to admit these nerves, I try to pretend it’s nothing because I don’t want to validate or ingrain them by wasting words on them, but everyone has nerves about things they love I guess.

A favorite quote of mine kind of sums it up:

"Why do they tell us it’s easy and evil to go do what we want and that we need discipline to refrain ourselves? It’s the hardest thing in the world to do what we want. And it takes the greatest kind of courage. Not as I want to sleep with some woman or get drunk or get my name in the papers. Those things, they’re not even desires, they’re things people do to escape from desires — because it’s such a big responsibility, really to want something."

I’m fighting this guy. I’m excited to fight him because of his douchey video. I’m kind of taking this on a little short notice, after a few cancels I thought I wasn’t fighting and really fell off the diet, but whatever; I feel too talented and need money. I don’t want to be all macho and say that I’m going to smash him, though inside I may be telling myself that, so I’m just going to say I hope things work out.


When everything finally aligns and becomes something normal instead of something new, I enjoy life with such a pleasant, undemanding being. And when I refer to everything, I almost and embarrassingly just mean my nutrition. When my diet is no longer a diet but just my ways, and my ways consist of healthy, whole, and smart living, I am a meek and lively being—aware of every little happening, and at ease with any minor tragedy or turn. Maybe that health is some silly placebo I’m fooling myself with, but that’s how I feel.

I’m enjoying my quiet nights at home alone, just playing chess on my laptop; I enjoy every little chess game. I enjoy my dog laying in the sun, and I enjoy the sun in general. I enjoy my training until I hate it. I love my broke, uncomfortable life.

I hope I win my fight, I really hope it so damn much, but I’ll be fine if that’s just not the way it turns out. I would like to live a little more comfortable this year, but I’m sure I’ll still be ok if I can’t. I like my friends but in good weather I’m fine alone. I love my girlfriend. I’m ranting now.

To summarize: I feel helpless to life but happy in it. As long as I love myself with good ways, I think I’ll be lovely anyway it chooses to go.

A Flash in the Pan.

I was terribly down and depressed.

Training today was looking good. A lot of my good buddies showed up to work a gauntlet circuit on me; a gauntlet is the the full fight, in this case three rounds of three minutes, with a fresh person coming in each minute. It was supposed to be my last day of good hard sparring, and it was going well. Against one opponent in the last round I landed strong strikes that left him covering up against the cage. I probed and probed and then unloaded a combo which he responded with by just thrusting into me. Because I had the visual advantage during this whole exchange I got underhooks when we clinched up. I went to combo trips, hip throws, and shots with my underhooks by my opponent was a good grappler/judoka (and thus was able to read and defend well), and at one point in the series of hip directions I was dictating he just held on to an overhook and fell forward in a shoulder throw attempt. It wasn’t very clean, I would of had his back at the end of the fall, but because we we’re wearing boxing gloves my arm was stuck and we fell with both our weights on the top of my shoulder. It was the worst pain.

I didn’t get up for fifteen minutes, just throbbing in pain. Eventually got it wrapped up in ice. My strength and nutrition coach said, with his certainty, that it’s an AC joint separation. I honestly felt sick from the pain and wanted to hurl. As it stands now, I can’t move my arm across my body at all, out forward, or up without acute pains. After researching it, yes it sounds like an AC thing but I doubt I’ll go to a doctor.

I went to watch the fights with my friends. Some really good fights, but man it hurt to watch. I just have so many feelings going on about failed expectations, and inexplicable amounts of what I perceive to be negative karma almost consistently shooting me down. It’s just a feeling of damning and failing.

After the fights the place turned into a club and people drank. I didn’t feel well in there. I looked at the people and knew that this isn’t what I want to be. I don’t want to be one of these people who come out week after week for this. It seemed like shallow ground. A place where people came to affirm something in themselves because it (this place, these events) tingles in people as something natural or cool—something that people are supposed to do and something that’s supposed to be naturally fun. It isn’t natural, it’s a depression pit. It’s a place lonely people go to meet other lonely people, and in that they get drunk and stumble together; stringing together into a series of nights of these foggy likes, never to be remembered as something worthwhile or never to be known intimately. Nothing worthwhile happens here, ever. It’s emptiness under the pretense of fun and normal.

Taking it all in kind of motivated me though. As hurt and discouraged as I was about my shoulder and this fight, seeing this further threw it in me that I can’t become this. I can’t be one of them, I don’t want to be one of them, and the strongest feeling I recognized is that my girlfriend doesn’t deserve one of them. Not saying that nightclub people are bad or lazy or whatever, but just this perspective of mine was so personal that it kind of crazily transcends the truth of the individual people there and more just ventures into my intangible thoughts about worth and potential.

This setback, in this short time of review, made me question a lot. I’m getting older and things are far from perfect. I begin to doubt it as an issue or putting in work, because I do put in work and lots of it; I begin to think it’s of matters out of my hand — a damning. It hurt. This nightclub, silly enough, motivated me. I can’t become that, I don’t deserve that, and my girl doesn’t deserve that.

This, as of right now, is motivating. I’m on fire. I will be back stronger and better.

New Time

I have a new spirit about all this. I’m taking this sort of break as a time to review and renew my mental game. I want to take the time and conscious to make a blueprint of my game; in that blueprint I want to know it in and out, be excellent in every technique or process in the plan, and generally just come out of this with a new confidence in my game because of my security in all things of it.

In this time of injury I will be working a lot of cardio and a lot of technical drills in the gym. At home I will book my game. I want a small game, but an excellent one. I value creativity and will include it diligently.This is exciting, and I fill this direct focus will take me to a higher level.