be rather than appear


The dragon

Through a dark, bandit filled forest, over the tallest jagged mountains, across a gloomy, creature filled swamp, in the middle of a ring of fire, lived a ferocious dragon. It stood guard over a tall tower full of golden treasures, precious jewels and riches beyond any mans wildest dreams. But the greatest treasure of them all was the fair Princess, beautiful beyond compare and virtuous soul to match.

Kings, princes, lords knights, men at arms and even lowly peasants set out to claim fame fortune and the beauty. The wealthy lords of men would bribe the bandits of the woods only to be turned back by the jagged peaks. Some bold princes and knights would scale the mountains only to be swallowed up by the denizens of the gloomy swamp. The most daring of adventurers would roast in the ring of fire, their bones and armor blackened by the blazing inferno, fading to dust over time. Who could possibly save the princess where the lands boldest men had failed?
Just when all hope for the Princess had gone, word began to spread of a champion. A knight of knights, a paragon with the sword, was preparing for the journey….

The knight, who wore the most splendid silver plate armor, wielded the sharpest of broad swords, carried the sturdiest of kite shields and rode the most pure-bred war horse, paused before the forest. He had heard the locals tell the story countless times. The forest was full of all sorts of evil outlaws, horse thieves,cutthroats, robbers bandits and murderers. He smiled under his metal visor, it would take more than a band of untrained vagabonds to sever his courage. He nudged his horse on, the forest encasing them in darkness. It wasn’t long before the arrows zinged, daggers whistled, and spears flew at the knight. He laughed loudly, his armor and shield deflecting the cheaply made weapons, no match for the sturdy craftsmanship of his armor. He rode on through the hail of weaponry unscathed. The bandits, fearing the man who had laughed at their feeble attempts, disappeared into the woods.
The knight had made it through the dark forest without drawing his sword or bribing with a single copper. Maybe this man had the courage to scale the jagged mountains.

Scanning the peak, the knight snapped the reigns, his horse trotting on. He had prepared well for this part of the journey, the locals telling him of the jagged, barren peaks. Unpacking ropes he had bought in the village, he tied his horse to a tree, and began the climb. His hands and feet were strong, his grip sure. He climbed higher and higher upwards, the height dizzying to a normal man. Once, his footing had faltered, his body sliding off the edge of a cliff. The rope around his waste tightened, he hung, suspended in the air. The knight looked below, the ground no longer visible. He had always been afraid of heights, but he steeled his nerve and climbed the rope. Finally he reached the summit. The climb down was much easier and uneventful. He hummed a tune to himself as he reached the bottom of the mountain. Perhaps this champion had the mettle to overcome the swamps.

He scanned the gloomy waters. All sorts of creatures were teeming below the surface of the waste deep bog. He could see bleached white bones and pieces of armor scattered on rocks rocks that told tales of long gone heroes. Thinking of the rigorous training he had endured since birth, his resolve was strengthened. He trudged through the swamp, his armor squeaking from the damp. The creatures of the swamp attacked him at every turn, encircling and ambushing the knight. He battered them with his shield and slashed with his sharp sword. He cleaved a path through the swamp, his great stamina being put to the test as his sword arm rose and fell. Finally after the long march through the boggy waters he emerged on the far shores of the swamp. This man is a Legend, surely he can beat back the blazing inferno with his nerve alone!
Drying off, he gazed in the distance. Across miles of blackened earth, he could see the fire. The dragon kept the fiery circle blazing, bellowing hell fires onto the charred earth every day and night, a final test for all men. He sharpened his sword, oiled his armor and prepared for the heat to come. His horse emerged from the swamp, scratched and clawed but standing tall.The rope he had been tied with chewed through. The loyalty of the beast was beyond belief, the knight reflected, his admiration showed as he patted the beasts back. Mounting the horse, they set off.
After miles of blackened and barren earth, they stood before the tall inferno. For the first time In the journey, the knight felt hopeless. How could they make it through the fire? It blazed high and long without pause. There was no path around it, the only way was through. Speaking aloud, the knight spoke of the journey’s end with regret. With a deep sense of melancholy, he steered the reigns around, prepared to journey back. The horse held it’s ground, not budging. It stamped the earth with its hooves,waving it’s head in the direction of the flames. Staring at the horse now, he shook his head in wonder. How could a beast possess such unwavering loyalty. It couldn’t possibly survive the leap. Every time the knight tried to go back, the horse ignored his commands. Finally, with resolve set, the knight threw caution to the wind and charged toward the fire. They leapt high, through the impossibly hot fire, soaring through the flames. They landed with a crash on the other side of the inferno. The knight rose to his feet, checking himself for burns, for which there was none too serious. The horse had not risen. He dropped to its side, stroking the horses neck. It had suffered severe burns, it’s chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. The knight took off his helmet, tears streaming down his face. Love doesn’t have a greater measure than when a life is laid down for friends. The horse shuddered, breathing it’s last breath. Our hero sat for a time, stroking his most loyal of companions shoulder.
Just then he heard a loud crash from behind. Turning his head, he saw it then; the dragon, wings spread wide, savage eyes leering. The knight rose to his feet and drew his sword. Every time the dragon moved the ground trembled. Letting out a battle cry, the knight charged at the dragons massive frame. He dodged the dragons tail as It came crashing down in front of him. He hacked at it with all of his might, severing the tip. With a blood curdling roar the dragon beat it’s wings, knocking the knight off his feet. Looming over him, the dragon drew in air and expelled it’s fiery breath. The knight rose to his knees, bringing his kite shield to bear. The flames were intense but rolled off his shield, leaving him unscathed. He charged forward, sword arm back ready to cleave into the dragons belly. Just as he was about to swing, the dragon snatched him up in his clawed hands. It squeezed him in it’s grasp, his armor buckling under the pressure. He tried to wiggle and squirm out, but the dragons clutch was too strong. His sword and shield dropped, the pain unbearable. It brought him up eye level, leering at him with it’s powerful gaze. The knight looked on in horror as the dragon opened it’s mouth and brought him slowly, slowly toward its mouth…
The boy woke up with a start, his heart racingHe was covered in sweat, his blankets and stuffed animals had been flung off the bed. He sat up, trying to catch his breath and cool off. Jumping down from his bed, he walked down the hall to the bathroom. After rubbing water on his face, he reached for the towel and dried off. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and thought to himself “next time I’ll slay the Dragon”. Back in his room, he picked up his favorite stuffed animal, little foot, and climbed back into bed. He closed his eyes and drifted off, to a dreamless sleep.


Of boys and knights

We all have fear in our life. Whether its spiders, heights, or dark parking garages. It can cripple us, leaving us shaking visibly. But Fear doesn’t have to be a bad thing, it can bring out the best in us. Without fear there can be no bravery. Here’s a short story I thought of about my childhood and how I would deal with fear sometimes.

The little boy stared at his reflection in triumph as he brushed his teeth. Rinsing his mouth out, he then scampered down the hall to his room and climbed the ladder to his bed on the top bunk. He crawled under the covers before his older brothers were even in the room, a carefully planned scheme that he had considered all day. He smiled to himself, feeling victorious, holding his favorite teddy bear, little foot, tightly in his arms. Every night was a race for him, to beat his older brothers to bed. Last one in bed had to shut the light off, it was the golden rule amongst the boys. He counted sheep like his dad had taught him, feeling himself drifting into dreamland. He was interrupted by a loud knock on the side of his bed. His big brother gave the most evil grin at him and said “you forgot to turn the bathroom light off”. His heart sank as he watched his brothers tuck themselves into their beds. Dread overcame him, this was not good, not good at all. Sighing to himself, he pushed the covers off and climbed down from the top bunk. “Don’t let the monsters get you!” His brother called out as he left the room.
He looked down the hall towards the bathroom. It seemed like a mile away now, the hallway nearly pitch black and foreboding. The boy crept as quietly as his little feet could, his eyes wide, scanning all directions for moving shadows. Finally reaching the bathroom, he paused a moment in the light. This part was going to be tricky. Once he turned off the light it would be a race down the hall, back to the room and up the bunk bed ladder. He wished he had brought little foot with him. Mustering his courage, he reached for the light switch with one hand, the rest of his body braced for the mad dash through the darkness. The light clicked, the darkness engulfing him. He sprinted down the hallway, his feet pounding the carpeted floor. He felt the things in the dark reaching for him, just inches away. He reached his room door way, got to the ladder, pulling himself up as fast as he could and onto his bed. Snatching the covers over his head, he grabbed little foot and pulled him in close, hugging him tightly. He could feel the shadows outside of the blanket, probing, searching for a way to get under his protective forcefield that was his blanket. He shut his eyes tight. He squeezed little foot hard, whispering that it would be alright, that they were safe now. Time passed by slowly, the boy sweating under the heavy blankets, protected but uncomfortable. Sleep took him.
He awoke, finding himself on the hard, dirt covered ground, with Littlefoot, still clutched in his hands. He was in a forest now, not in the room he shared with his brothers. He looked around, peering into the darkness. there were trees all around, tall, gnarled ones with long arm like branches. They all seemed to be looking at him, watching, waiting. Not knowing what else to do, he began to walk, hoping to find a way out of the woods. He wished his dad were here with him, he wasn’t afraid of anything. His dad always told him that there was no such thing as monsters, but he knew better. They were always lurking in darkness, reaching out for him from the shadows. He had been lucky so far, narrowly escaping them most nights. He hoped this time would be no different.
Having Littlefoot with him made him feel a little better. A gift from his sister, littlefoot had been at his side ever since, his constant companion and guardian in the darkness. He held onto it with both arms, almost hiding behind it is as he walked. The trees stared down at him ominously. Suddenly the wind picked up, the leaves rustling at his feet. The trees groaned, the wind howling past him. He was cold now, his thin pajamas barely protecting him from the elements. Glancing behind him, the darkness was creeping closer as he stood there. He began to run, trying to stay ahead of the shadows. Running through the woods was becoming more and more difficult, the trees growing closer together. Packed tightly now, he had to squeeze between them to move. The sharp branches ripped into his clothes, his pajamas shredded. He cried out as the branches dug into his skin, blood trickling from the shallow cuts all over his body. He charged blindly ahead, crying and bleeding, little foot still in his hand.
Bursting through a thicket, he came to a clearing. The trees seemed to make a big circle, nothing but rocks and dirt on the ground. He dried his eyes on his torn sleeve. Then cold and exhaustion overcame him. He just wanted to be back in his room, he wouldn’t care if his brothers made fun of him, he’d call out to his dad and he’d tell him nothing would get him. He sat on the ground, holding his companion close, sobbing, with realization of defeat took hold of him. The shadows would be here soon, it was only a matter of time.There would be no covers to hide under this time.
Looking up, he saw the shadows, coming through the trees, slowly but surely. He could hear them whispering, laughing, taunting even. Hugging little foot tightly, he stood up. No more running or hiding. This was it. The shadows merged into one being. His every nightmare made manifest in this hulking and grotesque pit of darkness. The mass of shadows now towered over the boy like a giant from the stories. The monster looked down at the boy, laughing an evil laugh, mocking his fear
This angered the little boy. Looking around the clearing, he spotted a stick. Running to it, the boy picked it up. With little foot in one hand and the stick in the other, he charged at the monster. He lashed out at the monsters leg, he couldn’t reach anything else. His fury blinded him, the pain from his cuts forgotten. The monster watched, surprised, as the boy struck again and again. Annoyed now, the monster grabbed the boy in his hands, lifting him high overhead, and threw him against a tree. The impact against the tree broke the little boy. His body crumbled to the floor, clearly shattered. He lay in a broken heap, still clutching little foot close. Inches from him lay the stick. The boy extended his bloody hand and reached for it. Pain seared through him, engulfing him in agony. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. Grasping it now he relaxed a little. It felt good in his hands, like the grip was made for him.
He opened his eyes, astonished at what he saw. In his hand was a sword. The cold had gone, the warmth from the padded armor fit him well. Little foot had become what it had always been, a shield. His shredded pajamas were no more, a full suit of brilliant silver steel armor covered him from neck to toe. He flipped the visor on his helmet up, better to see with.
The knight arose from the ground, wounds healed and back on his feet. Holding the sword in front of him, he swung it left and right, deftly cutting through the air. He turned toward the monster, it had turned his back to him. Using his sword, he banged it on shield. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! The monster, visibly startled,turned towards the noise. Seeing the knight in the clearing, he was shocked. Where had he come from? Raising his clawed hand and opening his tooth filled maw wide, he let out a roar that trembled the earth. The knight stood aloft, unfazed by the monsters display. He stared back at the monster, contempt written all over his face. Picking up a rock, the monster pulled his arm back and threw it toward the knight with great force. Standing his ground until the last moment, the knight moved his head to the side, the rock sailing passed harmlessly. Angry now, the monster charged at the knight, arms outstretched. He swung his left hand, fist clenched to crush the warrior. The knight jumped nimbly to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow. It swung harder with his right hand, claws outstretched to impale. The knight leaped back and sent his sword Slashing down. The blow struck its mark, severing the monsters hand. It howled in pain, clutching the stump where his hand had been. Falling to its knees, he whimpered as dark green blood gushed from the severed limb.
The knight stood still, cape billowing in the wind, watching, waiting. A feeling crept into the monster, something he had never felt. It gazed at the knight, watching as he slowly walked towards him. The monster knew fear, feeling himself shrinking where he knelt. No longer massive and imposing, he quivered now, terror fully taking hold of him. The knight plunged his sword into the earth, swaying back and forth in the ground. He stood in front of the monster, bending to one knee. He took off his helmet and set it on the ground, his long hair flowing in the breeze. The creature held its one good hand in front of its face, shielding himself from the blow to come. Looking into the now small creatures eyes, he spoke “It’s time for you to go now. Leave this place, and know that if you ever return, I’ll be waiting.” Gathering it wits,the creature scampered towards the trees. Being no bigger than a mouse now, he quickly disappeared in the thicket. The knight sat down against a tree, contentment washing over him. He set his shield to the side of him, close at hand. Closing his eyes, he thought of adventure and fair princesses. Before long, his breaths grew deep, and he fell fast asleep.
The boy awoke, still under the blanket, sweating profusely. Pulling the blankets off, he pushed them down by his feet. He looked around the room, barely making out his brothers still forms. Reaching out, he grabbed little foot, who had strayed from his grasp. He hugged it tight like he always did, his companion and shield. Closing his eyes, he counted the sheep like his father had taught him.

Thank you for reading. Share please :)


I am not a fighter.

“Are you a fighter?” It used to be because of my mangled ears that I would hear this question. The cauliflower is usually a dead give away for pugilists and wrestlers alike. Media and the growing popularity of the sport is making the “fighter” look easy to identify.
I used to joke when asked about my ears that I was born this way. The response was always an awkward “sorry” and a quick subject change. The part that bothers me about the question is the instant classification that I get thrown into; brute,psycho,illiterate,caveman,Neanderthal etc. take your pick. I’ve even been accused of having people write my blogs/status updates for me. Fighters are generally not very cerebral in the general public, after all you don’t have to be smart to hit someone.
To be honest I can’t really disagree with the general opinion. With front runners like Ronda Rousey and the Diaz bros flipping off their opponents, we generally come off as crude to say the least. The most exciting fights get the limelight, the bloodbaths and the vicious knockouts, whilst the superior grappling/bjj oriented matches get overlooked or boo’d even. The fighter look is more akin to the 80′s punk rock scene, big, dyed Mohawks, tribal and skull tats. Newcomers dying to stand out turn to the typical tough guy monicker. I can’t help but laugh at stuff like this. What happened to just being “good” to get noticed.

Another growing trend I’m seeing is the wannabes. The guys that wear the tapout shirts and mean mug everyone they walk passed. They cant wait to tell you about who they train with and that they have a fight coming up. Its like screaming for someone to ask them if they fight. I don’t get it. Who cares what other people think of you and why would you want to look like something that you could be possibly called out on. That’s like me saying I’m a NASA scientist, two questions would debunk me. All respect to those who try and fail at whatever they sought out to do. But if you didn’t make it, don’t pretend, whether it’s football or astronaut. It’s all about being exactly who you see in the mirror. Be proud of who you are. I fight for a living, but it’s not who I am, it’s something I do.

When I was starting out I looked up to fighters like Evan tanner and Genki Sudo. These were guys role models are made out of. Tanner was a recovering alcoholic that turned it all around and became UFC middleweight champion. Sudo had extravagant entrances coupled with amazing on the fly technique that wow’d the crowd and peers alike.. At the end of his fights he always held up a flag of the world stating “we are all one”. A simple and powerful message. I truly miss guys like them and try to do what I can to spread a similar message. I’m no where near Genki’s level of showmanship, he is in a class by himself, but I’ll do anything I can to spread the “We are all one” message.

When people ask me if I’m a fighter, I tell them “no”. While I do fight for a living, it will not define me. There is no shame in fighting, its a beautiful sport, but i could quit tomorrow and nothing would change. I’d still train for my health and stress/mental release.I’m not a fighter, I’m a human being. We are all one.
Edit:there is nothing wrong with being an upcoming fighter or anything for that matter, just make sure you do it for the right reasons. Don’t do it just because you want the title of being a fighter, you’re probably going to get hurt or humiliated. Chok dee! (Good luck in Thai)



Bellator fight camp

Weight cutting/body transformation week 1
I’ve been fighting for a long time, not counting the years of wrestling and boxing I did before. I turned pro in 2005 at age 18. For as long as I could remember I’ve been punching and kicking imaginary opponents/world champions.To this day when I shadow box I still do the same thing. When I first started out fighting, I’d be scheduled for a fight a month in advance, then I’d start training hard, sparring would intensify and cardio would be kicked up a notch. Then I’d fight and my opponent and I would be terribly gassed by the end of the fight. I assumed that was part of fighting.
Then the UFC started doing the countdowns, the training camps of champions and challengers leading up to the big fights. I saw guys like Sean Sherk and GSP doing all these crazy exercises and really training at a different level than what I had seen. They were in terrific shape, going 100% the entire fight and still looking strong after the. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even understand how or where to begin. I changed my ways a bit after that, doing more cardio in-between fights, cleaning up my diet a little. But it wasn’t enough.
A couple of years ago I was signed to a Bellator contract, basically the number two organization behind the UFC. In order to compete with these guys I had to take my training to another level. Not just physically but mentally. A lot of people don’t understand how much ring jitters and anxiety plays such a pivotal role in the fight business. I had to step up my game in every aspect.
I hired a great mental coach in Englishman Scott Stevenson, a sports psychology professor and all around mental Jedi. The guy knows his stuff, working with many top athletes from around the world. After many long sessions and conversations, I can attest that I have less anxiety in life and fighting, as well as not having had a Snickers bar in over a year.
Alongside Scott I worked with a couple of fitness gurus who implement Martin Rooneys Training For Warriors, a great all around program that took my fitness up to the next level. Being strong or good isn’t enough in mma, you have to have a complete package.
Since coming back to the states I’ve teamed up with a great BJJ professor, Dave Camarillo black belt and co founder of Guerilla jiu Jitsu, Matt Darcy. My technique is going through the roof and I’m actually applying proper technique, something I neglect by using more athleticism.
Last but not least my new strength and conditioning coaches, Travis and Kevin, owners of Bodies by Amorim. Since coming to them I feel like I’m going to break people. With all the tire flipping and sledgehammer swinging I’ve been doing, my body has never looked better. I’ve always had a chubbier build, strong but not ripped like others in my profession. The only time I’d see abs was the day of weigh ins. Not anymore. For the first time in my life I have a six pack. I’m proud of the progress I’ve made.
So for this camp I did a 12 week periodization training and I’m coming into my last 4 weeks. I won’t tell you about the technical sides of my training, that stuff is a secret. The first four weeks I did Olympic power lifting, basically low reps heavy weight, maximum strength. I got huge! I bulked up to about 190. The next phase I did functional weight lifting. The movement under load, so still heavy weights but more movement involved, like weighted lunges, more functional type lifts to get my power up.
These four weeks I’m going to strictly be doing conditioning, body weight exercises. Today I weighed in at 182, I’ve lost a little bit of muscle mass in the last 4 weeks from not lifting as heavy, a natural and beneficial side effect. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been going into these last four weeks. Every week I’ll be documenting my conditioning, my diet/portion control and body weight. I’m excited for oct 11th, the fighter on that day will be leaps and bounds above that cocky 18 year old kid that was in over my head when i started. Join me in my journey, fly with me. It’s time to Rise.




Why is every cute bjj girl treated like the last female on earth?

Alpha males or stepping stones?

Disclaimer: I am in no way shape or form sexist, I believe everyone should be treated equally. When I train with girls I try to smash them just as hard as I would a guy, it’s my way of showing respect. Anything less would be dishonorable.

Thousands of years ago the universe saw fit to arm man with zero sharp teeth and no claws. Our cave men ancestors instead relied on superior brain power and wits to develop weapons and traps to hunt physically superior animals. Meanwhile back at the cave our female counterparts waited patiently for the men to provide them with the days meat in return for warm beds at night. An arguably fair trade. Fast forward to the 20th century. Women win the right to vote after marching their high heeled asses off. They suddenly have equal rights. Awesome, they can do the hunting for a change whilst we wait at home, pondering the universe an the meaning of life (watching porn or sports). I’m totally cool with this. Women deserve equal rights. If they can carry the load, by all means do it.
Here’s the problem with guys though; We put the vagina on a pedestal. Girls didn’t do it, we did. Since the dawn of time we men would walk thousands of miles, hunt ridiculously large animals, swim through icy water etc. in the HOPES that a woman would honor us with a “roll”. We put it on the pedestal. Instead of saying I will give you meat and glittering prizes if you mate with me, it’s after I bring you meat and glittering prizes I hope you’ll want to maybe just might touch me in a non friendly way. We are shameful shadows of our grunting beastial ancestors.
Fast forward again. Present day. Location: any MMA gym anywhere. All the guys are focused, boxing, rolling bjj, wrestling etc. great practice. Suddenly, a girl walks in the room with a gear bag. Testosterone levels go through the roof. The wolves smell meat, our primitive instincts force us to do this, we can’t help it. It’s time to pick partners. The dedicated ones pick the strongest match for themselves, the one that’s going to push them. But a select few suddenly can’t find a partner. Oh of course, there’s a girl. These nonchalant idiots ” uh do you have a partner” to the girl. This girl could be day one zero experience, but for some reason this type of guy gets his rocks off on rolling with the girl. Suddenly mid drilling the room hears conversations of what they like to eat and movies they’ve seen recently. I can’t help but shake my head. It went from practice to a potential dating service. I’m not saying girls aren’t dedicated or good, but what the hell would I have to gain from rolling competitively with a first day white belt? If someone says you get better by teaching go slap yourself in the face. While yes it’s true, there is also a time and place. Don’t be a contrarian. Live rolling starts. The dedicated ones find the baddest mfers on the mat. Me personally I hunt belt colors. I stare at guys until they make eye contact. Sometimes I force the issue and walk up,” oh you have a partner, ok cool next round”. Locked in. The “other” guys can’t wait to roll with this girl that barely trains. And showing her moves after. What the F?? Its called live rolling not let me show you this basic move like its the wheel that you don’t know yet because you just started. The purpose of rolling is to smash or be smashed. If I want to know the move I just got caught in ill ask after the round is over. I swear when a girl walks in the room it’s like she’s the last one on earth and every guy is chomping at the bit. Disgraceful
Do girls even like this type of guy? Is this what you picture when you think cave man meat getter? Aren’t men supposed to be these manly alpha warriors that bash enemy heads in? Or is every girls dream to be with these guys that just lay down for them? I heard a great quote the other day about dancing ” used to be a guy just did a two step, one, two, while the girl got her shine on. Now every time a girl dances these guys take it as a personal challenge, trying to out dance them.” -Scruncho
My hearts desire is to be the best that I can be, I see other guys as target practice, like ladders that bring me up the mountain. Stepping stones. I want to face the baddest dudes possible. If I stopped to show every girl that walked in the room a move I would be walking in circles. I’m not saying I won’t roll with a girl, I would just prefer rolling with someone equal or better than me, that’s how I’m going to get better.
So in closing, put the vagina back where it belongs, say it with your chest, EQUAL. Roll with guys or girls that will make you better, it’s a bjj mat not a dating service. Let girls get their shine on when they are dancing, stick with the two step. Man up.
Edit to clarify, I should have said a few things better:
I have a fight 8 weeks away, I’m in training camp at the moment. Twice a week at my school we have a session called marathon roll, 12×5 minute rounds in a row no rest. The goal is to get as many taps as possible, at the end of the session we line up and dole out push-ups for every tap we earned. Simple stuff and everyone rolls pretty competitively. So at this session I try to roll with the stronger more seasoned guys, I strongly believe in the iron sharpening iron quote.
I try to avoid girls at all cost during this session, my opponent in 8 weeks isn’t a girl obviously so the more physically strong the better at this point.
To answer whether I roll like a douche or not. If I were rolling with a girl or male with significantly less weight I would try to use less weight and play a more technical game but still looking to submit. I’m not “letting” anyone put me in a triangle/rnc, I feel like that’s a disservice to them. Maybe that makes me douche, but I can’t remember anyone letting me put anything on them in the beginning.
When I say I roll the same I didn’t think my words would be picked apart and used so literally as you have. I should have said I roll with the same intent, to submit them and not be submitted by them. My competition/fight is looking to beat me up in any way possible, shouldn’t I prepare for that?



Do you even post your workout?

The ego in mma/fitness at the moment is terrible. My newsfeed is flooded with selfies and quotes like “get on my level” or stuff that points out how hard they work out compared to others. My favorite one is usually on Fridays and Saturdays when guys/girls post “I’m in the gym on Friday night, how’s the club?” My reaction? Mfer I’m at home with my kid because I did my workouts at a decent time, good for you ya trailblazer :/
In the pursuit of doing anything to be different we often become the opposite, the same as everyone else. We forget how to be individual, losing ourselves to be what we want to be. I’m not saying changing yourself for the better is bad, but the egoism that goes with it isn’t necessary. We forget why we workout in the first place, our health. It shouldn’t be about outdoing the next guy. It’s about bettering yourself. I’m terrified of dying young or of a health related disease, so I push myself in the gym and eat things that aren’t considered comfort food and tastes like dirt. Small sacrifice to see my great grand kids. I don’t give a sh*t if anyone I know sees me working out or eating healthy because I’m not doing it for them, I do it so I feel good about myself. Sometimes ill post a quick video of doing something cool, but it’s more to market the gym/team/coach that I’m working with. I’m not doing anything different than anyone else, I’m no pioneer in the fitness/mma industry. When I see power lifters post their stuff or professional body builders, that’s something else entirely. That stuff is impressive! My selfie probably looks like most guys, no need to post it. I’m not lifting extraordinary amounts of weight that I deserve a medal or a round of applause for. I love the way I feel before/during/after a training/gym session. That’s for me, not anyone else. Facebook or twitter won’t make me feel better by posting it, I don’t need “likes” to feel good about myself. Social media junkies are silly. If I inspire anyone along the way I hope it’s because of the way I carry myself, hopefully with good character.
I apologize if I pushed any buttons, I’m not tagging anyone specifically. Be happy and be you, don’t be one of those guys. Feel good about yourself, don’t rely on others to do it for you. Have a great, productive, lazy, exciting, (whatever!) weekend. Ous



The huntress and the doe

One day, high on mount Olympus, two sisters were playing a game of Mortal Chess. a favorite game of the Gods.Venus, the Goddess of love, sat waiting as Diana, Goddess of the hunt, pondered her next move. Diana, was holding a favored piece, an Amazonian huntress, full of grace and beauty. She treasured the mortal for her devotion, who always offered her hunt to the Goddess first. Diana guarded her heart jealously for fear of losing the huntress. Would be suitors were turned away in scorn, her mind reserved only for the hunt. Now Venus, who was a jealous God herself, had come up with a plan. She whispered in her son Cupids ear….

The huntress had set out early that morning. Winter was fast approaching and she wanted to be well stocked before the snows came. She threw on a simple white toga, ripped at the thigh to allow free movement. She slid the quiver of arrows, fletched herself, over her shoulder and gathered her bow. It was a beautiful piece she had crafted herself from a yew branch. She walked out of her casa, near the edge of the forest. She stopped at a stream nearby, scooping the cool water with her hands to quench her thirst. It would be a long run.
She took off at a lope, her strides long and graceful. She ran barefoot, foregoing sandals for want of silent movement. Not even the birds stirred when she was on the hunt. Diana had blessed her with uncanny abilities, and she used them well. The perfect hunter.
After running through the forest for most of the morning, she finally spotted animal signs. Bending to one knee to examine them, she smiled in satisfaction. They were Deer tracks, and fresh. Her prey was close, she resumed her run, easily following the tracks. This was the part she loved most, the chase. As the miles melted away, she slowed her pace. Her quarry was near.
She crouched low, Sliding from tree to tree, near invisible to the untrained eye. Spotting a glade, the sun shining through, she pulled her bow from shoulder. Beautiful flowers in full bloom dotted the forest floor, odd for the season. In the middle of the glade, munching on grass, stood her prey; a beautiful doe, serene and vulnerable. The huntress crept, slowly pulling an arrow and notching it as she closed the distance. So close now. She halted her movement and rose. She pulled the arrow back, taking aim. Suddenly, the doe looked up, turning towards the huntress. Still aiming, the huntress inhaled at the sight. Time froze.

Venus smiled across the board at her sister Diana. The goddess of love had tricked the huntress and Diana could do nothing but look on. Finally, she let out a sigh, nodding her head. Cupids arrow flew.

The huntress put her arrow back in its sheath. The doe darted away, into the woods, obscured from view. Seeing her go, the huntress felt regret, not for want of lost quarry, but something deep within her, a feeling she had never had before. Despair overcame her, and she was left wanting.
Suddenly, walking through the glade was a dark skinned maiden.The huntress stared in wonder, her heart leaping. Words couldn’t describe how she felt. Never before had she seen anything so beautiful. She set down her bow on the forest floor and walked towards the maiden, their gazes locked. Without word or thought, they embraced as if longtime lovers. They held one another, their cheeks touching, lost in the moment. Hand in hand they walked from the glade, their hearts beating as one. The huntress would never hunt again, her soul content in her lovers arms, abstaining from all meat, thus becoming the first vegetarians.

Diana handed the huntress piece to her sister Venus, who smiled in triumph. Cupid floated around the room, happy to do his mothers bidding. The goddess of the hunt had mixed feelings. She did not like losing her prized piece but couldn’t help being happy for the two lovers. Watching them embrace, she chuckled to herself, got up from the table, and walked quietly to her room.



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