Mark Tullius's Blog, page 17

The F-Word

My daughter, Olivia, is almost six, and my son, Jake, is nine months old. While Jake was babbling one night, Olivia got excited and said, “It sounded like Jake said ‘What the hell.’”

I couldn’t help but laugh and Olivia clammed up, afraid she’d said something wrong. I told her it was a harmless saying and there’s no such thing as bad words, just bad intentions. I assured her it wasn’t a big deal.

Then last night Jen and the kids played Name that Acronym. They we’re laughing out loud at some of their guesses, but things got interesting when Olivia wanted to know what the F stood for in LMFAO.

The F-Word was not a satisfactory answer.

Jen and I had already had these discussions, our views on language very similar. George Carlin’s Seven Dirty Words and Anthrax’s “Startin’ Up a Posse” are good examples of where I stand. But it was still a little odd to hear Jen say it with Olivia and Jake looking right at her.

Fuck. Yep, that was the word of the day. Jen did an excellent job of explaining it, taking away the word’s forbidden attraction and power. It’s just a word, but it’s not always appropriate to use it. Jen finished up with we don’t use that word very often and where we wouldn’t want her using it.

I was feeling pretty optimistic the strategy was going to work and then Jake turns to Jen and said, “Dad taught me this shit like three fucking weeks ago.”

That’s obviously just a joke, it was four months ago, Jake’s first night of teething. I kept saying over and over, please just go the fuck to sleep.

Whenever it was, we’ll keep an eye on the kids, make sure their love of swearing is nowhere near mine.

 

The Day We Fight Back Through Fiction

When I wrote 25 Perfect Days I had no idea how it would be taken. The mosaic novel’s unique format, large cast of characters, and 40 year time-frame wouldn’t be for everyone, but it was how I had to write it. Glimpses into the lives of everyday people dealing with situations I’d never want to be in.

I was thrilled when IndieReader named 25 one of the Best Indie Books of 2013 but it was the reviews and messages I’ve received that pushed me to write 5 More Perfect Days. People said the book was important, it had a wide scope of realistic social and moral issues, had a message that needed to be spread. My favorite was from Cianna Reider for Rebecca’s Reads who wrote, ”This novel will make you think, and it will make you want to fight back, and want to find a way to rise above.”

Fighting back isn’t always an easy thing to do. It’s simple to stay distracted, head down, thinking everything’s okay as long as I keep my mouth shut. As an author, I can hide behind my fiction, stick in subtle messages I hope readers might get. But sometimes that’s not enough. Sometimes you need to step up and call bullshit. And that’s exactly what the NSA is.

In “29-US89N4X”, the first story from 5 More Perfect Days you can download for free, we get the first look at the Controllers through the eyes of a dedicated field agent. Is he a patriot protecting a country that needs controlling or an easily manipulated pawn just doing his job? Do we need Big Brother listening to our every word so we can be saved or is all this fear manufactured so we can be good slaves?

I don’t claim to know the answers, but I do know I don’t want to be controlled. I don’t want that for my children.

Stop The NSA

The Greatest Gift

A few months ago I was talking with Dan, one of my best friends since high school. I told him I’d been meaning to bring my baby boy by his mom’s. He said that’d be great, maybe the visit would cheer her up. She wasn’t feeling very good, had lost a lot of weight.

The next morning I dressed Jake and packed the diaper bag, headed over to Cathy’s, thinking back a few years to all the playdates we went on. Before the girls were in school, I’d take my daughter, Olivia, over to play with Dan’s daughter, Annabelle. Cathy and I would laugh at how odd we must look at the park, but we didn’t care, both of us enjoying each other’s company and loving watching the girls play together, becoming braver, inching out of their shells.

Jake slept most of the ride and wasn’t his usual bubbly self, but I was confident he’d brighten her day. Cathy wasn’t feeling well at all though and stayed in her recliner, unable to soothe Jake. I asked if the doctors knew what was going on. They had no idea and were just throwing out guesses, not overly concerned with such a drastic, unexplainable weight drop.

I went back to my busy life, traveling to gyms, watching my kids, writing at night. Dan calls one day, but we’re eating dinner and I don’t pick up. I know it’s bad news.

He calls again the next day. This time I pick up. Pancreatic cancer. Three to six months.

Shit.

Most of my friends still have their parents. I don’t know what to say. I consider Dan a brother, Cathy a second mom. For the first time in her life, Olivia is watching me cry, unable to speak.

I get off the phone and my wife helps me explain what’s going on. “Grandma Cathy is sick. She’s going to die.”

Olivia’s five, she gets what it means. You don’t see that person anymore. She stayed positive and said, “At least she’ll have Chloe,” our cat that died two weeks before.

The next day’s a school day so Olivia won’t be able to go with me to see Cathy. I ask, “Would you like to make her a nice card or something?”

Olivia gets excited about it and says she has an idea. She’s going to give Cathy a crystal from her prized collection. I ask her if she knows which one she wants to give. She feels her way around the rocks and pulls out a heart-shaped labradorite.

“You sure, isn’t that one of your favorites?”

Olivia nods. “It is my favorite.” She clasps the stone in her hands and holds it to her forehead for fifteen seconds of silence. She hands it to me. “When Grandma Cathy holds it she’ll feel my love.”

The next morning we work on the card before school. She tells me what art supplies she needs, lets me cut out the heart she drew. I get to lay down some glue, but everything else is her, even the words, which are a difficult to read. “I hope we can see each other.”  I need to get going but Olivia has one last thing to write. “Grandma Cathy you are the best.”

I tell Olivia how nice a card it is and what it means to me, but I say she doesn’t need to give the crystal, especially her favorite one. I don’t want her giving up something to please me. Then she looks at me like I just don’t get it. “She’s like another Grandma.”

I hadn’t been sure whether or not I should bring Jake, but I figure he’d be a cute distraction, a shield, something for me to hold on to. So I don’t chicken out on the drive, I turn up the radio, think of Olivia’s statement, how it was just like me claiming Cathy as a second mom.

It’s strange not having Cathy greet us at the front door. She’s in the bedroom packed with people circling her bed, sitting on it, giving her hugs. I don’t want to interrupt, but she lights up when see me and Jake. She even introduces me as one of her sons, which always makes me feel special. She tells everyone that I’m an author, how proud she is of me. She says I should write down her story and I say I’d be glad to.

During the visit there are so many people that stop by, stories of other people that already did. I’d forgotten how loved Cathy is. No wonder she’s in good spirits. Jake senses it and goes to Cathy, climbs on her, studies her mouth as she talks to him.

I tell her what she means to me and that I love her and she tells me the same. I try not to cry when I give her Olivia’s card and crystal. She holds the crystal to her heart and says without a doubt she feels the love.

The next day I call Dan, ask him if his mom was serious, if she’d really like me to write something about her. I don’t feel like I could do it justice, but I’m happy to try. Last thing I want to do is waste her time.

Dan says, “That’s all she has right now.”

“Yeah, but it’s limited. I didn’t want her wasting it on me.” And I honestly don’t know if I can handle it, but Cathy’s like a mom so anything she wants.

It’s our first day and I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t bring Jake as my shield, my happy little distraction. It’s just me, my notepad and pen. I’m not even thoughtful enough to bring a gift, something she probably won’t be able to eat. I don’t want to go inside the house.

Again there are visitors, but they give us privacy. Cathy looks great, she’s smiling, she points at the tray beside her, Olivia’s heart within reach. She picks it up and says, “I tell everyone about this heart, about this wonderful little girl that gave it to me.” She makes me promise I’ll tell Olivia what it means to her.

I promise, appreciate how thoughtful she is. I take note how important it is for her to make others feel special.

Cathy becomes serious, tells me, “I want you to write my story and do the eulogy.”

Dan had already told me, but I can’t talk. I keep nodding when she tells me I don’t have to do it if I don’t want to. I go through some tissues and tell her I’d be honored.

I haven’t figured out the best way to do the interview so I ask her if there’s anything particular she wants to talk about. She tells me I’m the writer. I treat her like a fighter interview and start at the beginning. Where were you born and raised? How many siblings? What were those early years like? Was she always this happy, loving person that people were pulled to?

There were some happy memories, but also some bad. Any time she’d go over a rough one, I’d share one of my own. There were a lot of tears from both of us, happy and sad.

I love how her face lights up as she relives adventures with her children, trips across the country. We laugh at old memories, teaching me, a white-knuckled fifteen-year-old, to drive in Death Valley. That one’s always good for a laugh.

We talk about each of her children, what they mean to her. We talk about religion, and I’m overjoyed to see her faith, the way she sees God in everything. The serenity, calmness, the absolute happiness on her face, how much love and joy she feels. There’s no fear of death, she’s going to Heaven.

There are fears, but those are all for her family, how they’ll react to her passing. The grandchildren are the biggest concern, what about little Annabelle. I tell her that’s nonsense, that we don’t need the physical body to feel the spirit. Even though there was a stretch of years where I didn’t see her, one simple memory would bring her right back. Annabelle and the other kids will always remember her and feel her presence. She always be a part of them, that love does not die.

We take a break after a few hours, more people stop by to visit. I talk with Kathleen, Cathy’s youngest daughter’s friend from high school. She visits at least 3 times a week, tells me of others who stop by. Neighborhood boys who lie in bed with Cathy and call her Grandma, messages from others who’ve only met Cathy a couple times but still feel so drawn to her.

I head back in the room and we talk about all the people she’s affected, how incredible it is to see all the love people have for her. You expect that from family members, but this is ridiculous. I say, “That is what life is all about. Think of everyone whose life you made a difference in.” I tell her what she did for me, in what a bad place I’d been and there’s no telling what might have happened without someone like her.

Cathy becomes serious. “Why is that? Is it because I’m too nice and let them get away with things?” She really wants to know.

I can’t deny that Dan and I got away with some stuff at their house, but that’s not the reason I love and respect her. I guarantee her that’s not why these other people do either. I’d always figured it had something to do with how happy Cathy always was, but it’s now obvious it’s so much more than that.

I see it when I watch others come in, how Cathy always makes it about them. How beautiful they look, how nice they are, how much their visit means. Cathy is incredible at getting people to see their own worth. Not only does she let them know they are worthy of love, she tells them why. And she’s not afraid to hug, the huge kind that envelops you, makes you feel great all day.

After 3 hours we decide to call it quits. Neither of us can believe the stories we told, both of us so grateful to get them off our chest. She’s more beautiful at that moment than I’ve ever seen her, and it’s because I’m looking at who she really is. This woman is love.

By sharing her story with me, by opening her life, Cathy has reminded me that we must cherish every precious second. The greatest gift is our time. Use it wisely. Appreciate it when someone shares theirs with you. Spend each day like our last and focus on the moment to make our life so much richer.

Whether it’s your kid, your parent, someone you’re thinking about, when was the last time you told them not only that you loved them, but why you love them? What’s so special about them? Point out something that they can’t see, and don’t wait until tomorrow.

And when you’re done with that, I would love it if you could send Cathy a quick note of encouragement. I know it would really make her day.

Brown University Grappling and Mixed Martial Arts

I wasn’t sure how I felt about mixed martial arts (MMA) when I began Unlocking the Cage 18 months ago.  Although I fought for several years after graduating from Brown, I had turned away from the sport and no longer cared for it. My desire to understand why I fought came from a place of fear; would my young daughter follow in my footsteps?

The first fight team I trained with was Tri-Force MMA in Pawtucket, RI. Co-owner and head coach, Pete Jeffery, mentioned he also ran a small club at Brown, but I didn’t have the time to check it out. I changed this when I returned to Brown last week to talk with Professor Michael Kennedy, a brilliant and kind man who teaches the Sociology of Martial Arts (take this class if you can.)

Although Pete is an awesome guy and a great coach, I wasn’t expecting much when I headed for the campus. Athletes were looked down upon when I was at Brown, especially football players and wrestlers. Other students and professors made it quite clear that we didn’t belong at the school and if it hadn’t been for our physical ability we’d never have been accepted. If traditional athletes were treated as such, how could the Grappling and Mixed Martial Arts club take off?

Instead of the four or five guys I expected to see rolling around in a cramped room, I was blown away by the 40 or so young men and women training in the brightly-lit multipurpose room. At least 10 of the participants were females and, just as they would at any MMA school, they were training with their male teammates.

The club, which has grown to 60 members in its 3 years, was very impressive. Students listened carefully and studied what Coach Jeffery demonstrated then practiced applying the techniques and rolled for the remainder of class. It was obvious that everyone there was enjoying the workout and several of the students took the time after training to tell me what they’ve taken from the class and how it has changed them.

As I’ve discovered through interviewing 340 fighters and coaches and talking with hundreds more, MMA, and martial arts in general, is a life changer. It is one of the most powerful and positive things people can do for themselves. For many of these students, it was the first time stepping out of their comfort zone, the first time they wouldn’t be top of their class. Without putting yourself in difficult situations and testing what you’re made of, how can you discover who you truly are? Martial arts expands consciousness, increases confidence, promotes positiveness. Whether you join the club at Brown or find a school on your own, I encourage everyone to try it.

For more info on the class you can email them or show up for practice Mon. and Thur. 6-8p and Sat 2-4p in the Multipurpose room. Here’s their Facebook page. Here are more photos from that night.

Check out the video to hear what the students and Coach Jeffery have to say about GAMMA.

Here’s why I encourage everyone to train martial arts.

 

 

 

The First Fan Who Will Try Not to Die

A few months ago I received a very nice email from a young girl about to enter 7th grade. Her mom, who has incredible taste in literature and writes great reviews, had been encouraging her to read over summer but had trouble finding anything Meghan would enjoy. After much consideration, her mom allowed her to read my Repackaged Presents, a small horror and suspense short story collection.

Meghan wrote to me after reading the first two stories of RP. She really liked them and was interested in reading more of my work. Turns out her mom isn’t nearly as cool as we hoped and wouldn’t let her read Brightside or 25 Perfect Days. She did however tell her we were coming out with a YA horror novel that might be appropriate.

I appreciate every message I receive from people telling me they enjoyed my writing, but it meant even more coming from someone so young that was gaining an interest in reading. I was also impressed that Meghan took the initiative to write and I wanted to reward that.

After I cleared Try Not to Die: At Grandma’s House with her mom (which earns her back some cool points,) I told Meghan she could be the very first person to try not to die. She gets the book for one entire day before anyone else in the world gets to. But there was one catch: she’d have to rub it in to her mom’s face.

Meghan took the bribe and went on to perform the first ever book report of Repackaged Presents, earning a great grade in the process. These photos absolutely made my day and I was thrilled that she chose doing a book report on my writing instead of Harry Potter.

Now I wait and see how she responds to Try Not to Die. I’m not a mean guy, but part of me is secretly hoping to hear she was afraid to go to bed, that she had to leave the light on, maybe had a few nightmares.

I hope to send the eBook out to advance readers tomorrow and it will be up for sale by Halloween.

For those of you who’d like to check out Repackaged Presents, you can download it for free from here, iTunes and all sites other than Amazon.

Suicide: Something to Talk About

For the last year I’ve wanted to write about suicide, but I’ve had concerns. This is isn’t stuff I want my parents reading. What horrors would this bring to our kids? Do I really want my nieces and nephews to know about the time I put a gun in my mouth? What good could it possibly do?

But I’ve been asking MMA fighters to share their stories, to be open and honest about their past – no matter how painful, no matter how embarrassing. I’d be a hypocrite if I couldn’t do the same.

Suicide isn’t something people talk about though. Some say it’s a sin, it’s selfish. It’s a shame. My mom can’t even say the word, just scrunches up her face when she says so-and-so passed.

I can’t help but think that’s part of the problem. Maybe if people talked about it, the struggling would know they’re not alone.

I wish I had words for those that have been affected by suicide, words to somehow lessen the sadness, but I don’t. Saying sorry is one step above the least you can do. Saying it’s a terrible situation I wish you weren’t dealing with is the same thing with a few more words. All I can hope for and try to express is don’t blame yourself. It’s the first reaction for many, but most suicides are surprises because no one talks about it.

I’ve spent over half my life hating myself. I wanted to end it all as early as junior high. I’d run razor blades across my skin, too cowardly to drag them deep. I drove my motorcycle to the limit, hoped for an oil spill to make it look like an accident. I splattered my heavy bag with blood from my torn knuckles, any physical pain to distract me from what was going on in my head.

No one ever knew. Not my parents, siblings, and definitely not my friends. Not one girlfriend. Maybe they thought I was a little too angry, too aggressive, but it went with me playing football, fighting, and metal music.

I was fine, just leave me alone.

What made it worse was not being able to understand what the hell was wrong with me. I should have been happy. I had to be crazy to even consider something so irrational. Especially for no good reason.

Finally, I broke down and saw a psychologist. It disgusted me how weak I was, that I couldn’t fix this on my own. I felt like a failure, a loser who couldn’t control his own brain.

In the very first session, the doctor helped me see there was a reason I was screwed up.  He said there were others like me, going through the same thing.

Hearing I wasn’t alone made all the difference. It gave me hope, made me hate myself a little less. I wasn’t a freak, wasn’t crazy. I was just following an incorrect belief of myself.

The psychologist gave me exercises to practice and showed me triggers to watch out for. Slowly, I began to change. Even when my first marriage ended, I did everything to stay positive. My younger brother gave me a few books that helped. I met Jen and we fell in love, the changes becoming permanent. We have two incredible children, and everyday I’m reminded how awful it would’ve been to have missed out on this life.

I still get angry and disappointed with myself, but there’s no chance I’ll ever reach for the gun again. It makes me sick to think of what I almost did, the pain I would’ve caused my parents.

My beautiful children wouldn’t exist.

That’s why I decided to write this. I want my son and daughter to read this when they’re older. I want them to know how grateful I am they’re on this planet. It won’t always be easy for them, and if genetics plays any part of this, they might end up having the same awful thoughts. I want them to know they can come to me with anything. Showing weakness and asking for help was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I’m here because of it.

If you’re dealing with something, talk. Pick up the phone. You’re not alone. There are people who can help.

There are many great help organizations out there, here’s a link to one of them. 1-800-273-8255

For those of you who’d rather watch the video instead of reading:

 

 

 

Revolutionizing Women’s Self-Defense

I’ve been to 75 MMA gyms across the country since I began Unlocking the Cage and I’m never sure what to expect. My main focus is on discovering who the fighters are and why they fight, but I always keep my eyes open for things that interest me. When I stopped by Wink’s Gym in Albuquerque, NM I was hoping to speak with Coach Mike Winkeljohn, a champion kickboxer and one of the top striking coaches in the world. I had no idea we’d end up discussing women’s self-defense.

I’m usually very skeptical when I hear about any self-defense class, especially those designed for women. A lot of programs place an emphasis on fighting back, but in completely unrealistic ways that lead to a false sense of confidence that is easily crushed. Some courses are too rough on participants and lead to injuries and dropouts while others focus entirely on avoiding situations altogether and have a tendency to increase fear. There’s no question a good self-defense course can be incredibly effective, but only if they are well-designed and the instructors know what they are doing.

Coach Winkeljohn is a master strategist that has helped create many male and female champions, but I wasn’t sure how his approach would work for someone who has never had any martial arts training. Was their Smart Girl Self-Defense, simply a crash course in kickboxing with some chokes added in?

Heather explained that I couldn’t have been more wrong. They developed the program so anyone could do it, including their teenage daughter, Autumn, who can’t fully utilize one side of her body. Mike, who is known for his elusive striking, of getting in and out without taking damage, designed the physical portion, while Heather focused on the psychological aspects. I perked up when she mentioned that much of her research was based off of Gavin de Becker, the author of The Gift of Fear and several other books.

I worked for Gavin de Becker & Associates after college and am very familiar with Mr. de Becker’s work. He is probably the best known expert on the prediction and management of violence and I highly recommend his writing to everyone. He encourages individuals to rely on their intuition and helps them understand when they are truly in danger, crucial elements of effective self-defense. (It’s also interesting to note that the defensive tactics training I received while working for his company is what led me into fighting. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be writing Unlocking the Cage or this article.)

Smart Girl Self Defense is a well-designed course that is changing the women that take it. It arms them psychologically and physically, greatly increasing the odds that they will avoid or escape a dangerous situation. It’s exactly the type of course I would encourage my mother, wife, and loved ones to take. If you live in the Albuquerque area and you’re 14 or older, I suggest you give it a try. If you are an instructor that is interested in teaching the course in your area, contact the gym and ask about their training program. 

To read more about the program and why they developed it, click here for the word doc.

Click the videos to listen to them describe the program and how it is different.

Matt Hamilton: A Fighter’s Tale

Today’s post is by Matt Hamilton, a MMA fighter, coach, and co-owner of Westside MMA in Little Rock, Arkansas.

——————————————————–

Mark asked me to write about something very important and life changing for his MMA anthology. I told him how lucky I was, that everything in my life was so good I just didn’t have anything to write about. Unfortunately that just changed. It’s a coincidence that he asked me to write something for a book about fighting and then the opportunity to tell such a fighter’s tale makes itself available.

About 20 years ago my mom went on a business trip and contracted a very rare form of food poisoning that shut down her kidney function. Up until a few years prior it was an almost certain death sentence. Fortunately some really smart guy had invented a process which made the odds around 60%. At that point my mom lived and won her first big fight.

As Mom got older her genetics started to kick in and her heart began to give her trouble. Her father had died of a heart attack in his 40s. Unfortunately the medicines that helped my mom’s heart were too hard on her kidneys, which she had recovered minimal function of over the years. So the doctors were always just kind of playing Mom’s treatment by ear since they had never had a case as delicate as hers.

Over the years Mom suffered mild heart attacks and strokes. Every time she’d go down she’d always get right back up. I vividly remember her going to the hospital for one of her heart attacks and she looked so out of it and so done I was terrified. But when the doctors and nurses started to touch her, she immediately regained her senses and began detailing her medications and history. When I told her about it later, Mom said “If they don’t know what they are doing with me they might kill me just trying to help and I’m not ready to go yet.”

The last few years Mom had been having plenty of heart problems and of course her kidneys had finally stopped working and she was on dialysis. But to keep her strength and stay doing what she wanted to do, she had been training with me at my gym 3 days a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday like clockwork my mom and dad hit Westside MMA for some cardio, weights, and mobility work. It was that time and work that gave her such incredible quality of life (all things considered) after she should have already been dead. Those three hours a week over the last few years are some of the most important times in my life because not only did they help my parents but they allowed us to spend some quality time together.

For her last week in the gym, Mom was doing the bike, lifting weights, and performing mobility exercises with 95% artery blockage. I knew something was wrong as she was just so winded but she would always smile and get that last set, after teasing me that I was a mean trainer.

Mom needed surgery once again so I went to the hospital the night before to spend some time with her. My dad had been there all day and I didn’t want her to be alone at night. We had a great talk. I knew by looking at her that she was weak but hell she had always made it so I assumed she would again. I felt like I was 8 again, making her reassure me she would be okay. She promised me that she wasn’t like some old people that are “ready to go.” She said as long as she was in her right mind she would fight to live and not just give up and go peacefully.

The next morning she was putting on a strong front before surgery started. She said goodbye and assured me she would be back. She made it through her surgery and was breathing on her own just like the fighter I knew she was. The next day I got a call from my dad that things had went south and we should go to the hospital.

Over the next two days Mom fought for life like she promised me she would. Her heart was too weak for dialysis and her kidneys weren’t cleaning her blood as they should. I’m thankful that Mom never regained consciousness to feel the fear of losing the biggest fight of her life. And I’m proud as hell of the fact that she stayed alive for two days fighting to keep her promise to me. In the end we had to allow her to pass or her stubborn body was just going to go septic and she would have died from total organ failure. So we had to tell the docs to stop giving her any assistance and the fight was over.

I’m sure somewhere someone in Mark’s book will say something like “once you have fought, everything else in life is easy.” I’m here to tell you that if that’s the case then you are a lucky man. In reality that’s just some melodramatic bullshit that people say to sound more important than they are. I’ve fought all over the world. In my day I fought the best in the world and I promise you that nothing at all compares to losing your mom.

I want to close by thanking Doug & Shirley Hamilton for everything positive about who I am as a person and was as a fighter. All the good qualities in my life and in my career were reflections of my parents. In life: compassionate, loyal, humorous. And in the ring/cage: tenacious, hard headed, and a little mean. All that is good in me is just the DNA they handed down and the lessons they taught. Everything bad about me is just a lesson I didn’t learn or something I picked up somewhere else.

Why So Happy? How a Vegas Trip Changed My Outlook

Alright, I have a confession. I had a difficult time the first two months following my son’s birth. I was rushing to release 25 Perfect Days, tightening up Try Not to Die, and considering massive changes to Ain’t No Messiah. There was also the anxiety of having a booth at the UFC Fan Expo and beginning Unlocking the Cage at Syndicate MMA after a 4 month layoff, the last two months of which I did nearly zero physical activity. I wasn’t sleeping much and my previous free time was now filled with screaming. I lost focus and struggled a bit and can’t deny I was not my usual happy self.

I was in love with this cute little dude, but I wasn’t appreciating him nearly as much as I should have. Sorry Jake for when you read this in 20 years, but I have to admit I was looking forward to a few quiet nights in Vegas.

When I returned from my week in Vegas, it was obvious to everyone that I was in a much better place. What was it that knocked me into this new mood?

I love to gamble and got in some Blackjack, but I didn’t win so I’m guessing that’s not why I came home happy.

I tore the cartilage in my ribs so I’m pretty sure that wasn’t it either.

The Expo was disappointing due it being too loud to have good conversations, but it was fun meeting new people and seeing positive reactions to the project and t-shirts. Still, definitely not enough to make a difference in my attitude.

Positive reviews for 25 Perfect Days began trickling in which is always nice and the filming of its first story went very well. Good stuff, but nothing great.

Maurice Jackson introducing me to his foot.

A big part of the shift probably has a lot to do with exercising again, pushing myself way out of my comfort zone. It felt great to get the blood flowing and get punched in the face a few times. It made me feel more alive and helped me get rid of the guilt and anxiety of being a couch potato. The benefits of exercise are countless and I came back motivated to start doing more.

The interviews were probably one of the biggest pluses from the trip, something that always leaves me inspired. I talk with incredible men and women that open up their lives so I can try to understand who they are and why they fight. How can I not be moved by that? People that are pursuing their passion, doing what they love no matter the sacrifice. And please don’t think these are unintelligent brutes that have no other options, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Part of it could be nearly getting knocked out by Maurice Jackson on the last day before my long drive home. Nothing like seeing stars to make you realize what’s important.

I think it was a little of each of these things combined with me getting my head straight and no longer worrying about all the things I couldn’t control. I got rid of the unnecessary pressure I place on myself about projects and when they’ll be complete. I’m going to enjoy whatever stage of writing or research I find myself in and focus on my family. They’re the biggest reason I’m happy. They’re what’s important in this life.

Thanks to Britney with Tucker Images for the great photo.

 

RFA 9

I’ve interviewed close to 300 fighters across the country for Unlocking the Cage and I do my best to keep track of their careers. I’ve been to over a dozen fights since I’ve started this thing and watched several dozens more. I’m really looking forward to tonight’s Resurrection Fighting Alliance 9 because I’ve had a glimpse into the lives of three of the fighters on the main card.

When I was passing through Kansas City last summer I had the chance to talk with one of the guys affiliated with RFA. He told me their focus was to showcase the top contenders in the sport, resurrect the careers of big-name talent that had suffered setbacks, and launch all of them into the global spotlight. They’ve been following through with their mission and I’m sure tonight’s event won’t disappoint.

The fight is nearby at the StubHub Center in Los Angeles and I wish I could attend but my wife and daughter are performing at our local community theater and there’s no way I’m missing that (and staying happily married.) Good news is that I’ll be able to record the fights on AXS TV and watch them as soon as I get home.

First guy I’ll be rooting for is Lew Polley. I had the pleasure of talking with Lew last year down at Reign Training Center in Lake Forest, CA, but was so impressed with him that I want to do a much longer and more in-depth interview to really show who he is.  Click on the photo to watch his interview.

 

 

 

Next up is Casey “Spider Monkey” Ryan from Alliance Training Center in Chula Vista. Casey was one of the first guys I interviewed at Alliance, a great example of the type of fighters that train there: friendly, intelligent, top of their game. Ryan is a BJJ black belt whose career is off to an incredible start and I can’t wait to finally see him fight.

In the main event Pedro Munhoz is taking on Jeff Curran for the RFA’s first Bantamweight belt. Pedro is an undefeated fighter that trains out of Black House in LA. I was fortunate enough to take one of his BJJ classes at Babalu’s Iron Gym and interview him afterward. Best of luck to all three of these men as they pursue their dreams.