How Bad do you Want It?

My friend/co-worker/workout partner Chris said this phrase to me once - "It all depends on how badly you want it".  I don't even remember what we were talking about - probably about making time to go to the gym, which him and I typically do several mornings per week.  I can't recall for certain though.

I've been thinking about that phrase a lot lately though.  Amanda and I are planning on taking a cruise some time this summer, and if I'm going to be in a bathing suit a lot, then I would love to feel and look really fit.  Granted, my abs haven't completely disappeared (I'm still in pretty good shape), but they're not cut like they used to be either.

At my age though, how difficult would it be to get rid of that extra few pounds/layers that are hiding my stomach muscles?  I recently read (is it really reading though if you're mainly looking at pictures?) a post on The Chive called "Actors Who Went Overboard".  One of the more dramatic examples is picture #10, of Christian Bale (see below).

The caption below the picture reads:

Christian Bale lived on an apple a day to prepare for his “svelte” role in The Machinist and then put on 100 pounds of muscle to play Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins

I couldn't help but think - how badly must you "want it" to live on an apple a day?  How badly then do I "want it" if I can't forgo the garlic bread that accompanies the pasta-laden soup for dinner?  Or what about that piece of cake?  How badly do I really want those abs - enough to skip dessert?

That's the big question about any other goal too - how badly do I want that degree, that raise, to play that instrument, to learn another language, to grow closer to God, etc.

I know that being goal driven isn't the only thing in life, and sometimes it can be more harmful than beneficial (if you"want it", whatever the goal is, so badly that you're sacrificing the relationships with your loved ones, for example).  But if you find yourself falling short of whatever goals you are hoping to accomplish, then try asking yourself that question the next time you face an obstacle or stumbling block:

"How bad do you want it?"

A Fight Fan's Fulfillment

I've been a fan of mixed martial arts for over 20 years.  Ever since my friend and then-roommate Giovanni and I discovered the early Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) videos at a VHS rental store.  Whenever we noticed a new release we would rent it and gorge on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (2 at a time) while watching.

Since those days I've had trusty UFC viewing partners in every place that I lived.  After Giovanni moved away it was Rob Hughes and/or Andrew Hass.  In Sacramento it was Mike O'Brien.  Now, here in Cincinnati it's Chris Waklatsi.  But through all this time of being a fan and enjoying the events I've never actually attended a live UFC production, until now.

When I learned that the UFC was coming to Cincinnati for a "Fight Night", I marked the date on my calendar that the tickets would be available.  The first day I could purchase them I reserved pretty decent seats, along with Chris and another co-worker.

When the night finally arrive, the other co-worker (not Chris) had a stomach bug of some sort and had to cancel his attendance.  Chris and I both tried to find someone to fill his seat, but had no luck with it being so last minute.

Chris and I were originally supposed to meet at a bar called The Yard House at 7pm, but parking downtown was scarce due to (according to one of the parking lot attendants) four events going on at the same time that night.  I don't know what the other two were, but in addition to the UFC there were plenty of fans walking around headed to Reds' baseball game.  So after 20 frustrating minutes of driving around the city in circles I finally found parking and texted Chris to let him know I'd be late.  I was equally relieved and annoyed when he responded that he was just then leaving his house, especially since my cell phone battery was rapidly depleting (the display was yellow).

So with a sigh I walked to The Yard House and sat down to have a beer.  The bartender mentioned a local IPA called PsycHOPathy, so I gave it a try.  It was an excellent tasting brew.  So there I sat, at the corner of the bar, in my "Jesus Didn't Tap" t-shirt.  After finishing my beer I walked outside and stood by the door waiting for Chris.  While it was kind of a bummer that I had to wait an hour and a half for my friend to arrive, it was also kind of nice to just hang out, people watch, and to unexpectedly be a human billboard for Jesus.

After Chris arrived we made it to the U.S. Bank Arena sometime after 9pm, but the preliminary bouts were proceeding until 10pm, so I didn't mind getting there a little later than originally planned.  As we made our way to the seats I realized that our view was pretty freaking good.  We were right on the aisle seats, just one section away from being directly in front of the octagon and in the first section up from the floor.  the picture above was taken right from my seat.

This event was a "UFC Fight Night", so the caliber and name recognition of the fighters wasn't as high as a pay-per-view event.  The arena was far from full too, with the entire upper section being empty and a surprising number of seats in the lower section still vacant too.  I had to wonder if the attendance was smaller because it was only a "Fight Night", or if the UFC didn't make this a pay-per-view event because Cincinnati doesn't typically have the high attendance that would make it worth using their higher quality fighters.

Either way, I was still giddy to be there.  It was interesting to see the production aspect of the event - the fighters walking out through the crowd, the camera men standing around the cage, the press sitting ringside, and familiar faces walking around like Bruce Buffer, Herb Dean, and Dana White.  It was exciting to hear the booming walkout music, Bruce Buffer's voice, and the smacking of leather gloves on skin.  The main event was a phenomenal fight too, with Matt Brown (who fights right here out of Cincinnati) decisively winning it.

This was only the 2nd time that the UFC has been to Cincinnati, with the first time being back in 2007 for UFC 77.  If/when they come back for a 3rd event though, then I will definitely plan on attending it live again.  As a long-time MMA and UFC fan, to me it's money and time well spent.

Bruises, Bumps, and Basketball

I played basketball during lunch today, for the 2nd time in 10 days.  I like to play a pretty physical game too - not dirty (throwing elbows or fouling excessively), but I'm just not afraid to battle for the rebound, attempt to block a shot, or stand in the way of a drive.  Unfortunately, my shot still needs a lot of work though.

The last time I played I jammed my left ring finger.  It wasn't disgustingly swollen, but didn't seem to be healing very quickly either.  I think it's because my wedding ring is on the finger, and it's irritating the swelling by constricting it.  I tried to take it off (I normally leave it on 24/7), but no matter what I tried - soap, hand lotion, my swollen knuckle was too big for it to slip over.  So on it stays.

Although my knuckle wasn't fully healed yet, I decided to play again today.  As expected, I smacked my swollen finger numerous times during the games (I played for 2 total).  In addition to that though, I backed into someone who was running and their knee nailed my calf, bruising it pretty good.  I also got smacked or elbowed in the outside lower corner of my right eye, creating a bruise there.  And finally, I stood in the path of a big guy who liked to power his way under the basket and took what I think was one of his elbows to my nose as a consequence, which cut it (slightly visible in the above picture).  It was bleeding a decent amount, which necessitated someone else to substitute in for me on the last play of the game (I was willing to play, but no one wanted my blood all over them or the court).  At least I got a "good defense" comment out of the guy whose drive I blocked though.

As the icing on the cake of injuries, a couple of weeks ago I dropped a weight bench on my right big toe at the gym.  So now I have a blackened toenail too.  But here's the thing - I don't mind any of it.  Not one bit.  As long as the injuries can heal without any permanent damage, I would rather live a life with bumps, bruises, and cuts if that's the necessary consequence for being active and physical, for playing sports with determined aggression, and for feeling fit and manly.

Brotherly Introspection

My brother Steven visited us for a few days in the last week of July.  The last time I had the opportunity to hang out with him was in Orlando last year, for Thanksgiving.  I even wrote a (very) brief post  about it here

Although we only got to see him for three evenings and one day, it seemed like we fit a lot in to that small amount of time.  We went to the gym a couple times, dined out and walked around at Newport on the Levee, played darts at my house (we each won 3, but he was playing much better than me), chilled out on my back porch while drinking cinnamon whiskey, and went to Kings Island on Friday.

Steve and me at Newport on the Levee

There are many things I admire and respect about Steve, who is 11 years younger than me.  The one thing that stands out the most though, and even inspires me, is his toughness.  He is (like my dad was) somewhat of a bad ass.  He has a major attitude, an abundance of testosterone, and I doubt he would ever back down from a brawl.  Almost every time I see him (once a year at best), he has a new story of a fight that he has participated in.  They're usually not his fault, or if so then it was probably for a good reason.  This time, for example, he told the story of observing a man pushing a woman down in a parking lot, so that she fell backwards on the cement.  After witnessing this he exchanged some words with the dude, and ended up laying the guy out cold.

There once was a time when I was clearly his "big" brother (bigger, stronger than him).  But 12 years of marriage, 7 years of children, and a career in engineering do little to foster the pursuit of fitness.  And while I have never given up on this battle (I'm a week or two out from washboard abs, if I really dedicated myself to diet and exercise for that duration), he has been steadily gaining and then surpassing me on that front, especially since he's never had those family responsibilities to hinder his efforts.  Don't get me wrong, my family and career are all tremendous blessings, and I would prefer their hindrance any day to being able to work out regularly and/or pursue other manly hobbies (martial arts, cars, etc).  I'm just saying that priorities change, and the affects of the 11 years between us has now swung in his favor, physically speaking.

After hanging out together, I found myself adapting his behavior a bit, wanting to be "tougher", badder, to have the "edge" and attitude that he possesses. I guess I wanted to "keep up" with him in that regard, to some extent anyway.  After thinking about it more though, I came to the conclusion that I really don't want to project my toughness on the outside like Steven does.  Instead, as a Christian (aka follower of Jesus), I want others to feel drawn to me (as they were to Jesus), not afraid of me or intimidated by me.  In other words, I would rather reflect outwardly the love of God that resides within me.

Aside from the Christian perspective, most reasons that fighting occur are stupid, foolish, and immature.  Not only that, but since I have a family to take care of and young kids to raise, I have to consider whether the unnecessry health/life risk is really worth it.

On the other hand though, is there anything less manly than excessive risk consideration and reduction?  I don't want to stick my neck out for no reason, but if I act like a wimp for the sake of ensuring that I'm able to raise my kids, then is having an ever-present coward for a dad really the best scenario?  In addition, how do you know whether or not you can fight if you've never tried?  Or how to you increase your inner strength without testing (and hopefully displaying) your outer courage and resolve?

So what if some douche bag wants to bump shoulders with me when walking by?  Instead of me bowing up, squaring off, and/or staring him down, I hope that I would instead either laugh about it (knowing that he's a douche bag), or even consider disarming him verbally, maybe by starting a conversation with him "hey man, nice tattoo".  Sounds a bit crazy, but isn't that what Jesus would do, especially if it's possible that it would open up an opportunity to talk about my faith?  

But here is the kicker - I want to make sure that I still have an abundance of toughness on the inside.  I want to make sure that there is still a killer psycho who (if an injustice is observed, or a victim needs assistance) can open up a gigantic, exploding can of whoop ass on those who need/deserve it.  I want to know that there is an inner warrior that is still deep down within, and can be tapped if absolutely necessary.  So that is the question I am now posing to myself - am I as tough as I want to be, as much as I feel that I should be on the inside?  Do I really have that inner strength?  If not, then how can I develop it and nurture it again (like I did when I was younger and trained in kickboxing)?

I recently watched the movie Act of Valor.  In it, the following statement is made: 

"The hardest thing about growing old is that
other men no longer see you as dangerous".  

That makes sense, but I've decided that the hardest thing for me about growing old is not the danger that others may or may not see in me, but wondering if I see myself as still having enough strength, courage, and/or righteous anger to be dangerous.

Exercise Viagra Crack

I need exercise like Hugh Heffner needs Viagra.  Especially when life is frustrating, depressing, annoying, and/or difficult, which is pretty much every damned day.  The endorphins that it provides lifts my spirits.  The increased blood flow nourishes my brain.  Even the skin on my face feels awake and alive.  It helps me to think and yes, it also increases my libido (making the metaphor all the better).

I need exercise like a junkie needs a crack pipe.  Without a regular dose of it (2-4 times/week?), I slowly slide toward melancholy at best, depression at worst.  Until I eventually become like a spoiled drama queen with PMS. 

I hate that this is the case though.  And I hate the fact that although I know that this is the case, I still don't make doing it as much of a priority as I should.  And I also hate the fact that I rely too much on Amanda to work out with me.  But if she isn't able to, or if our schedules don't sync up (together, with the kids' nap times, etc), then I partially blame her for my frustration and the encroaching bad mood.  This then only compounds the negative effects though, because now I'm not just in a pissy mood, but I'm emotionally taking it out on her (if even only to a small extent).  This then adds friction to our relationship, which puts both of us in a worse mood.

So what is the solution?  The only one that I can think of is to set a designated time (4:30pm seems to work well while I'm unemployed), make it a priority, and just do it whether Amanda can join me or not.

And I'm not talking about an hour or two of a high intensity, gut busting, sweat pouring workout (although those are especially nice).  I'm just talking about at least 15-30 minutes of getting my heart rate up and my body moving.  Taking this little daily dose will improve my productivity level, my mood, our marriage, and pretty much every aspect of my life.

Press the Testosterone Boost Button!

There are three movie trailers that are out now for what look to be absolutely awesome guy movies.

1. X-Men Origins : Wolverine
2. 4 Fast, 4 Furious
3. Crank 2 : High Voltage

In fact, I think my testosterone level jumps up a couple of notches each time I watch the trailers. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to shave again for the 4th time today.