Saturday, October 22, 2016

Filthy Fifty & Fighting for Love

Saturdays are rough, man. After working doubles Fridays, I usually get up to hit the market to buy groceries for the week (Fisher Hill Farm and their beets have been my favorite for a couple years now). I'll get coffee and then head to Combat Conditioning. 

Today's workout was... The Filthy Fifty:

50 Box jump, tire
50 Jumping pull-ups
50 Kettlebell swings
Walking Lunge, 50 steps
50 Knees to elbows
50 Push press, 45 pounds
50 Back extensions
50 Wall ball shots, 16 pound ball
50 Burpees
50 Double unders 

It could have been worse, honestly. I hacked half the time but other than some congestion am pretty ok. I broke some of them up to ease up on losing form for my shoulder. Afterwards I rowed 4K on the erg for some steady state/metabolism boost and then a fellow fighter Josh was nice enough to hold Thai pads for three rounds. He'd been up since 4AM working. 

Josh doesn't have to do that. He doesn't have to pay what we pay to come do workouts like we do, get black eyes in sparring, and hold pads for a teammate on a Saturday morning. He doesn't have to work shitty hours around when the gym is open. Most of us don't have to have odd hours at work, miss hours at work (money in our pockets), miss happy hour, possible relationships, dinner with friends, or whatever it is people do after work. None of us technically have to do that. 

For most of us, it's a stage of life we're in. Late-twenties, early thirties before serious relationships and settling down. It sucks balls to miss an 80 degree summer night of bridge jumping, or saying no to a guy who asks you out to dinner, or friends you barely get to see anymore because you're paying to learn how to straight ankle lock someone, if you're lucky. If you're not lucky, your neck gets cracked the wrong way and you have to spend precious free hours paying to see your chiropractor. If you're lucky. 

Some of us have had concussions, surgery, or are perpetually taped up. Coach walks with a limp. Coach Wally visits two chiropractors more than anyone I've ever met. And they roll with us, AND they do workouts with us plus extra on their own. 

None of us have to do it, and none of us ever say it to each other, but unspoken, we're there and we stay because we love it. Because our gym people are good people and they become like family. 

In "The Fighter's Heart" by Sam Sheridan, which I'm reading, this guy is talking to Sam about dog fighting and about how some dogs love it. He says, 

"'If you are fighting for something, you have to fight for what you love. If [the dog] doesn't love you, he's gonna quit. No one, no dog in the world, will fight for more than forty-five minutes without love and heart.' 

That's the secret: It's about love."


I've been having weird dreams lately. I've dreamt about my fight a couple of times. Shadowy recollections of strange scenarios where I missed my fight, or something went wrong before-hand. 

One of my greatest obstacles in life, and it took seeing this in another person I loved to see it in myself, is that I fear losing something I love. So I always hold back in reserve. I fear investing time and energy and love into something that will fail. That I will fail. I'll fail to follow-through, change my mind, not train hard enough; fall in love and it won't be reciprocated. Or I'll have been so set against love for so long out of fear that I'll be hurt more by loving something I'll lose that I won't even consider opening up to the notion. 

At the end of the day, I love training. I fear writing about it will somehow mark the acceptance that I've come to so deeply love something and I'll shirk and lose that feeling. As if speaking of it makes it vanish or lose its value

But I'm also at the point where my heart is growing tired of almost loving something and me pulling away. Or perhaps I've only dabble in infatuations, afraid to love deeply. Or maybe nothing before has been something to wholly give myself over to. 

So I said yes to this fight, even though I am afraid. And I've written a couple letters for once putting sentiment to paper, even though I am afraid. 

Because any time you break anything down to its purpose, it appears to be love. It's hard to argue what you should choose in any situation with a fact such as that. 

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