Looking back

That's me getting a pep talk from Jeremy Horn after my first fight.

I'm in a reflective mood tonight after watching the finale to the Ultimate Fighter 9. I trained off and on for the last 5 years with the welterweight contender Damarques Johnson. Tonight Damarques lost, but that's not what brings me here. He will move on, he will be fine and he will continue to succeed. He's a genuinely good person who has punched me in the face more times than I can count.
Around the age of 26, I decided that I wanted to get off my ass and get a little physical. I was out of shape, unhappy and had no idea what to do with myself. I had spent my early twenties partying and wandering around with my wife, and the realities of growing up were starting to become clear. I had become a fan of mixed martial arts and often imagined myself in that cage. How would I do? Did I have what it takes? It became an obsession. It wasn't long until I had done some research and realized that mma legend Jeremy Horn had a gym just a few miles from my house. I walked into the gym only about two months after it opened, on a Saturday, and for the next two years I trained almost everyday. Sometimes twice a day. I was terrified, unsure of myself and not at all as tough as I thought I was. I trained in the morning and went to work in the afternoon almost unable to walk. I suffered and accumulated injuries. A broken nose, twisted fingers, sprained joints, dislocated knee-caps and black eyes. I loved it. I was a slow learner, but I was eager to learn and I was finding qualities in myself that I didn't know existed. I sweated and toiled and never missed a practice for a year. I was quiet and didn't attract much attention. Jeremy saw something in me, and when I asked him if I was ready to fight, he gave me the confidence to take the plunge. I'm no tough guy, and I have never been in a street fight. For the first 6 months of training I apologized whenever I would punch someone in the face. I got my fight. I began preparation to fight James Hamilton on the Rocky Mountain Bad boys fight card, Battle in the Cage 3. I had no idea how much harder the training would get. Strength and conditioning at 7am, two hours of jiu-jitsu and muay thai at 10am and two more hours of jiu-jitsu and muay thai at 6pm if I didn't have to work. This was 6 days a week. The promoters flew me, Jeremy and Bill Woodson (another fighter from the gym and a great guy) to Denver the day before the fight. I was a nervous wreck and I was grumpy as hell from my starvation diet. The weigh ins were the day of the fight and I only had 4 more pounds to shed. So we put on the plastic sweat suits and hit the sauna. This was my first experience cutting weight. It was not at all pleasant, but I was lucky to only have 4 pounds to cut. No problem. The hours leading up to the fight are still pretty clear to me. The drive over, drinking pedialyte, being checked by the doctors, getting encouragement from Tara and seeing my opponent for the first time. Having Jeremy Horn in my corner, who has over 160 fights under his belt, gave me a huge confidence boost. I warmed up with some thai pad work and some takedown drills. Bill's fight was first, and he quickly finished his opponent. Soon enough it was my turn. I suddenly got very calm. I don't remember my name being called. I walked down the ramp to the cage and all eyes were on me. Stepping into the cage brought me back to attention, and the full weight of the situation hit me. The dude standing across the cage was wearing only 4oz gloves and he wanted to punch me in the face until I lost consciousness or quit. The bell rang, we touched gloves and it was on. I threw a lazy jab and he threw a solid jab. His landed first. This is where you learn something about yourself. When another human punches you in the face, you have two possible ways to react. You will try to get away, or you will try to punch that person twice as hard as they hit you. I hit back. His jab hurt me, and I walked right into it. I made no attempt to cover up. I went right back at him and threw a straight right hand down the pipe. He went down like a ton of bricks. I followed him to the ground and to my surprise, he came to his senses and popped back to his feet. He was bleeding all over the place. For the rest of the round and all the way through the second we punched each other non stop. Neither of us would go down and neither would quit. The third round was much of the same and I could not believe this kid was still standing. He probably thought the same. Towards the end of the fight I remembered that I could also take this fight to the ground. Duh. I shot in for a single leg takedown and was able to muscle him to the ground. I punched him twice and he attempted an armbar that I slipped out of. The fight ended with more face punching and the fight went to the judges. I lost the fight by a half of a point. I wasn't too disappointed. I layed it all on the line and delved deeper into my own potential than I ever had. My opponent broke his hand on my head and I didn't go down.
After getting back home I returned to training and started getting ready for another fight. En route I severely sprained my neck and had to pull out. After that it seemed like I was plagued by injury after injury. I still managed to train almost everyday for the next year and a half. My knee started to fall apart and I started training less and less. Finally, I had a pretty major knee surgery to realign my knee cap and to remove damaged cartilage. I recovered, but never threw myself into training like before. A few weeks here, a few days there. I made one brief return over a year ago and fought here in Salt Lake. I fought on the second Elite Fight Night card against Peter Baker. I dropped over 20 pounds over the 2 month training camp. I trained and dieted and worked. The day before the weigh ins I was still 12 pounds overweight. For over 24 hours I didn't eat or drink. I layered on plastic sweat suits and heavy clothes and ran on the treadmill 10 minutes at a time. It was literally one of the hardest things I have ever done. Professional fighters do this every time they fight. I think it was then that I decided that this would be my last go at fighting. I felt like I was dying, and I lay on the floor drifting in and out of consciousness. I sweated out those 12 pounds and made weight, but I was mentally defeated. The fight lasted all of about 2 minutes. We traded some punches and he unintentionally kicked me in the nuts. I recovered. We clinched, separated, and traded more punches. Again he kicked me in the nuts. I was mentally beaten. I recovered again. I shot in for a takedown, left my neck exposed, and he secured a guillotine choke. Just before the blackness set in, I tapped out. It was a tough loss for me.
Over the years training at Elite I grew as a person and as a man. I was given a place to test myself and to push my limits. I learned to be humble. I got the opportunity to train with some of the world's greatest fighters. I did some warm-up sparring with 6' 7" Tim Sylvia. I wrestled with Rich Franklin, Joe Stevenson, Jorge Gurgel, John Alessio, Mike Whitehead, Duane Ludwig, Joe Doerkson, Edwin Dewees, Luke Cummo, Travis Wiuff, Matt Hughes, Justin Eilers(rest in peace), and most of all Jeremy Horn. It was Mac Danzig who sprained my neck while getting ready for my second fight. Does this mean that I am a great fighter? Absolutely not. During my time training I gained a basic understanding of the essentials. I have been tapped out and punched by master and beginner alike. I had a few shining moments against much more talented fighters, when I would pull off something out of nowhere. For the most part though, I was average and just enjoyed gutting it out.
My fighting record is zero wins and two losses. I am only now beginning to realize how important the years spent training really are to me. I have nothing to show for my time spent. My nose is crooked, I have just a little cauliflower on my left ear and I have three titanium screws in my right knee. I learned more than I am currently capable of comprehending. I learned to relish the struggle. I have supreme confidence in my ability to endure. I know that being humble leaves you in a position to absorb the lessons that the day brings. I've learned the value of surrounding yourself with people you admire.
I still train hard these days, but not to fight. I'll always be ready to fight, but my readiness will never be limited to one thing again. I've found myself doing what I love for a living, and in that I've found more people to admire, and to be inspired by. They are teaching me to bring more intensity to everything I do, and showing me that I'm capable of more than I know.
It's easy to lose focus when the things you want from life are intangible, and hard to define. I'm not interested in money anymore than I need to live in a basic, comfortable way. I don't want attention or admiration. Honestly, I just want the corny things in life. Love, happiness and maybe a piece of something bigger. Somehow this habit of pushing my mind and body is just a small step on that journey.