Spaceship Crash Dream. June 3, 2015.

i wake up in a space ship that is going down.

i've woken up when "the thing's about to happen", although it's unclear what that is. 

it's strange that i've been sleeping -- that i consciously was like "may as well sleep for these 3-4 hours, before the thing happens" -- because 'the thing' is a landing of some kind in which i may well die.

the spaceship chamber has a broad window towards my head. a bed in which i am laying along the right wall, with disordered covers. an area at the back that is kind of locker/do-things-here ish, with maybe a red toplight, though there is no locker.

the chamber is cold; earlier i'd rolled down the covers, hot, and now i'm cold. and i'm worried that that is because the capsule is failing or is otherwise indicative of something going wrong, of the way i will die.

it is one of those fears that you'd like to discount as essentially 0% chance of happening -- it's only a dream; it really almost certainly won't happen -- but in fact i know in this case that is wrong, that there is a reasonably good chance that i will die in this landing and there's nothing i can do and i am terrified.

there is land -- red, craggy, like NASA pictures of Mars -- racing past beneath and in front of us, looming closer (there are now more windows) and i wonder if i should have on my suit and i don't really know what the land is, and if we're supposed to be coming in that quickly, and in my brain i literally scream the words,  "what is that? WHAT IS THAT?"

later, in Santa Monica, I see an attractive woman who looks like my friend from high school, L---, biking up a hill as I sit in a hotel parking lot; i assume that it's probably not her. then I see C----, another friend from high school and L's recent husband, doing the same. i call his name, and he waits and stops, happy, and we begin walking downhill; he says something about how "he says he's here and everyone says" and i respond with something general about how nice and perfect it is in California so that's why they say that, which feels like i may have missed the point of what he was saying. 

we're walking downhill, and L has biked ahead. i don't mind at all that they didn't look me up, though i knew they were in town from social media, and they must know i live here. it's nice to see C, and maybe i'll get to say "hi" to L soon, as well, and it's pretty as we walk down a hill towards the rocky, curved coast.

Just: Healing

Quick post-fight healing-up-soft-tissue thought:

There is a funny transition when a bit of you goes from being "injured" - in this case, a bruised left thigh that I couldn't bend, etc. - to "functional-but-hurt", when you're trying to start using it again, etc.

You're almost more annoyed at/with it in the second category, even though it is obviously stronger in that category than it was in the first.

Cutting Weight, Healing Leg: Day Before

I weighed 161 pounds this morning. I ate approximately 1,542  calories today; I know this even though it is before 1pm because it's the day before weigh-in, and the fast is on. I burned 0 calories doing exercise, having been explicitly and repeatedly told not to do anything much today by Coach. [update! happily, this is a lie! I also had a light dinner. But I did not count the calories, as by that point I was well at the stage where all that mattered was weight, the actual weight of the things going into, coming out of, my body.]

Leg: Y'know, it'll be glad for a break -- the contusion has kind of knotted into its own tight, weird thing. But I think it's better not to mess with it now, not to "massage it out" or anything. Ride it, fight with it, and then we'll put it back together. People've fought through way way worse.

---

Get scared of yourself.

I wrote this to a friend, today:

i actually know what you mean, about the "there's a fight at the end?" the training itself is such a thing, it starts to become like its own P90X. no, yup, there's a fight, which is scary: a dude your size and skill level hitting you hard as he can (you have pads on). but you're your size and skill-level too; that's the thing to remember. (oh. i may steal that, for the blog).  

Commence steal: It's a thing I think about. Sure: there's a guy I'll meet tomorrow, and we'll fight. And you know, for the level at which I do this, it'll be pretty real. We'll go at it. And I bet he's fit, and he's trained hard, and that there are things that he's better at than I am.

Also I'm fit. I've trained hard. There are things I'm better at.

So when I say "get scared of yourself" what I mean: imagine fighting someone taller. Or with longer arms. Or who's less tired in the 3rd round. Don't always imagine fighting someone... a better boxer, or tighter in the clinch. Imagine what might be imposing about you, own that and hold that and be that. And remember: tight. action. move. tight. action. move.

I'm totally loopsy right now. You can see the post about food and pooping, the journaling of this day, to get a real clear sense of that.

Here's a list of things that Coach and others said to me, last night and over the last few days. You'll notice that they contradict each other. I'm not including that like, "oh look, how stupid." I'm including it like, "this is what it is, and you have to reconcile for yourself what works and makes sense. It's a tough sport. Sort it out. Go fight hard."

NO you cannot F$*(ING do YOGA! don't DO ANYTHING! REST.

get a massage

don't get a massage

relax. stay calm.

kill him

you're there because you want to be

chop his legs off

listen to your corner, even if you think the advice might get you hurt, if he's saying throw right even if you can't throw that right

don't get a massage the day of the fight

get a massage

get mean. be mean. start being mean to people, now. be nice after. get mean

And everyone, always,  everyone asks how you're feeling.

I also wrote to a friend today that no, I would not get hurt, but instead the fight would be about "joy, fight, movement."

because this, apparently, is how TBI rolls

I hope all that's right. I think it will be. My first fight was just: very exhiliarating, really fun. I was disappointed to lose on decision, but I kept describing it to everyone as "one of the most fun things a person can do," and like that. My second fight was rough: outclassed and outweighed, I got battered about and got hurt. 

I think this one will be more like the first. With more action. Joy. Fight. Move.

There was another thing I wanted to say here. But... I forget. Let's face it, I'm pretty hungry, and I'm not 100% at my sharpest just right now. KnowwhatI'msaying.

Last thing. Then I'm going to move towards trying to sleep, hoping to poop, all of that. I have a tendency, and I think it isn't just me, to frame upcoming things like this in terms of destiny and innate qualities of myself. Good or bad. I will win because I'm the kind of person who... I might lose since I'm the kind of guy who... 

And I don't want to pretend, actually, that I think that is nonsense. Because there is an infinite final reckoning and knowledge; a sum of me and my choices and impacts that fully encompasses, and can therefore reasonably label, the "kind of guy who" I am. However, another way of saying what I just described is God--however you understand that word. In other words, it's not really how our own crazily limited understanding, nevermind in fact probably time itself, constantly branching between possibilities, works. What I mean is that, yes, there's a "kind of" person writing this, at this moment. There's a body, with strengths and with weaknesses. There are habits, tendencies -- there's whatever the material impact of all this training has been.

But there is also, there actually is, a wide open field of unknown tomorrows. For 6 minutes, tomorrow evening. Me and this guy will throw ourselves at each other. We'll figure something out; something that emerges as true in those six minutes, for those six minutes.

I'm excited. I'm frightened. I'm excited. It isn't decided; it never is till it's done. We can't know what will be till that bell rings.

tight. action. move.

tight. action. move.

My Neighbors' Dog: Important Things

I'm writing and posting this now in the midst of all the "Cutting Weight, Healing Leg" hurly-burl because it'll just take a minute and, anyway, that's the point. I do "have" that minute.

First, for goodness' sakes please: yes straight-up (I think) this is a story in which in a small way I make a correct/human-good choice. Which I'm writing. On my blog. Think of that what you will. That's not my why, and if it bends you up you can- I dunno. Read Gawker. Whatever. (Not to rag on Gawker. They're fine.).

My neighbors C and M have a really lovely golden retriever, whose name I've always been a tiny bit iffy about: he calls her 'me, I think short for Wilme.

She's a sweet, very good-natured dog. She's a bag of bones. She's old. She's dying.

I saw him carrying her the other day, and asked brightly, "Things okay?" And he shook his head and half-smiled as I expressed sympathy, and he carried her inside.

I had lots of things telling me not to--my focus; my own anti-social nature; the fact that I'm not much of a conversant right now--but I knocked on their door on my way back from my miraculous dinner that I did not think I'd get to eat, today.

Monica's dad was over. Wilme was strewn on her dog-bed, all skin and bones, alert to attention but not really moving. They aren't sure she'll make the night, and if she does then tomorrow, etc. She's an old awesome dog, at the end of her line, and had I not knocked on that door tonight I might not have gotten to say goodbye to her, scratch her chin; might not have gotten to do my best to be warm to two neighbors who've always been very warm to me.

My point is, and man wow it is to myself, past present and future, most of all: it is good, really good, to have things that are a bit crazy that you embrace and devour you up. I like that, and will always try to have that, in various ways, in many parts of my life.

And it's good, in the midst of all that, to remember when it makes a huge difference to just take ten minutes. I'm so glad I did. For myself. Selfishly. And yes, for a good dog. She deserved that scratch. She deserves a bunch more.

Happy trails, Wilme. 

Cutting Weight, Healing Leg: Day Before (Training Videos! - Study [2 of 2])

Note: a few of these are silent - that's because YouTube has scrubbed them of copyrighted songs (music plays during workouts at the gym). Don't turn your volume up, trying to hear them, or it'll blast you when a different (not copyrighted???) songs come on halfway through.

Okay, start this one with something a bit different. This drill: I can teep (push-kick) to keep my opponent away, evade (move), or clinch (pull them into that wrestling position). That's it. 

Their job is to come at me, swinging. 

Nick does his job great here, doing some conditioning (medium hard) shots on my body, but just making a point with the head-shots. This drill is exhausting, and requires a decent amount of concentration; it's technically specific and tiring. I like/hate it; I think it's very useful. Thoughts:

- left hand, james! left hand! you see how it flies up sometimes when I block? You see how it drifts away from my head? These are bad things, bad. I need to just think tight, lock it in, left hand. Tight, lock it in, left hand. 

- so, I need to do more head movement in boxing, yes. But I need to not do... I do this stupid little head swaggle that looks like I'm imitating how people in parts of South Asia say 'yes'. That's great as a communicative gesture, but it doesn't achieve much for me as a dodge or evasion in boxing, because my big long head is still up there on my big long neck. I'm writing about this so I don't get the idea in my head that I'm helping myself with that waggling -- it's maybe a tiny bit better than really being totally still, but actually ducking, actual movement, actually sinking my chin low and keeping it there, protected by my shoulders, is much more important.

Neck wrestling with Nick. Better/different than previous.
- I move around more, hang less, and am cinching Nick round his head, better
- I can't do that with gloves though, really! This is a challenge; trying to recreate your leverage with your hands, with gloves. But I can duplicate that spacing, balance, position. Or try to.
- Throwing more knees. That's good.
- Still not basing enough, not pulling him off balance enough.
- Man, what a burn at the end where Nick negs my fist bump.

And, last one. A defensive drill with Sal. In this drill, he is supposed to come after me boxing (volume, rather than force) and I'm not allowed to do anything but defend or evade (can't teep; not really supposed to clinch, although you'll see that I do). That's it. Get used to the onslaught.

I wish there were more Sal, in this series, but he wasn't around much during training for this fight because he has a business and a life and et cetera. He's a terrific fighter and a really generous guy. I always learn a lot from him. What I learn, watching this drill:
- my guard can still be tighter; both in my rest position and in my parries/dodges
- I take a lot of body shots. This isn't a good thing; they wear on you (and also, I think, you get points for them, although how all that works isn't totally clear to me and doesn't seem to be that rigorously defined). It'd be good if I got out of the way of those, or were better at hunkering in so my head and my body were protected from wide open shots
- I definitely rock it like a boy band here: one direction. I need to juke more, fake more, move my movement around
- several times, I overcommit on a parry and Sal punishes me for it with a light face punch. I need to watch that. Don't overcommit. it's the same thing really as the note above, about my guard, but it's worth saying twice. It's key, for me.

Cutting Weight, Healing Leg: Day Before (Training Videos! - Study [1 of 2])

Stephen is taller than I am, which means his jab has good reach and can snap me.
- My left guard is too open/out to the side, and he catches me on it.
- I'm too front facing; I don't want to face sideways, like walking a rail, but I'm just too square-off to the front a lot of the time. It makes me a bigger target, obviously.
- The constant movement is good: be careful not to just jitter on your feet.
- I don't do well with the balance of countering/attacking here; I know that the point of these is to some extent that I'm not the aggressor, but I'm also sure there's a way to achieve that without being as flightily passive as I am here.

I'm sharing this on the blog for one moment: at ~1:50, you'll see me throw a left than an upper with the left, and then talk. What I'm saying basically is don't tell me, I know I know, meaning I know that that's a weak attack that leaves me open and I shouldn't do. Gotta get that in. Actually, I've gotten better with that at least. I used to throw that a lot; I think I did it because Coach does it, but he uses it differently, kind of as a badgering setup, and also is just a much better boxer than I am.

More neck wrestling with Nick. You don't need to watch more than 20 seconds of this. I barely needed to. We're pretty static. Two things I observe, about that:
- part of it is a weird thing that I think is a part of Nick's technique that he particularly deploys against me; basically grinding his skull against mine to put my skull/spine/balance out of alignment (and in pain, or my skull at least). So when we're clamped together for long times, that's happening.
- my note to myself, which is often my note in neck wrestling, is to be more active/dynamic with respect to throwing my opponent off his weight. I do it a few times here, but not much; I'm tired, in part, and happy to just clamp and try to snake my way into a better position against Nick. And I have one good, or at least reasonable, reason, which is that Nick's base is sturdier than mine, so--as happens once here--if I try to throw him off balance I may wind up getting thrown off myself. All the same, the point stands. More dynamic action in the clinch: more pulling and jerking, more knees.

Okay. My attention span is limited, and I'm hungry (although not much I can do about that!). I'm going to go... do something that day-wise rhythm-wise gives me the impression of breaking things up, eating. Then work some. Then come back to do one more set of these.

Cutting Weight, Healing Leg: What I Weigh RIGHT NOW - live update digest

Here it is, the day before and what I was doing, which was basically trying to work/do stuff while fasting and drawing down the weight. All together, entered as I felt it, unedited.

Weigh in is 5/9/15, at 11:00am

5/7/15, 8:30pm
161.6 lbs
actions taken: eat light dinner, actually (2 eggs, on the butts of a loaf of healthybread, mentioned previously); laxatives; research on calorie-DENSE foods, because starting now until 11am Saturday I want to actually get IN calories so I don't totes lose it but have minimal food in my guts

11:02pm
164.2 lbs
Freaky but ok. Have drunk lots of water. Ate that food. Go to bed.

5/8/15, 5am
161 lbs
Kind of perfect. Allow myself cup of liquid coffee. Desert, breakfast stuff. Maybe? Yes. Later today, I'll have to stop eating. Google "Sauna Brentwood". Am not impressed. Consider texting friend with his own sauna. Do. Eat 674 calorie breakfast, spread over 30-40 minutes, possibly too much sugar/carbs, but not bad. Going to stop eating ~3pm today. Drinking, too? Internet.

6:32am
161.8 lbs
Breakfast (674 cals) + coffee - poo (medium) = this weight. Not so bad. Gonna stop doing this so often, though, cuz... all day every 90 minutes, will go nuts. Gonna work for a few hours, now.

6:47am
Google "coffee diuretic" find this:

unless additional evidence becomes available indicating cumulative total water deficits in individuals with habitual intakes of significant amounts of caffeine, caffeinated beverages appear to contribute to the daily total water intake similar to that contributed by noncaffeinated beverages.

Am sad. Savor last cup of coffee.

7:51am
Eat yogurt (Siggi's 2% coconut); flax seeds.
Google "fiber makes you poop" (just checking)

10:16am
162.6 lbs
couple medium poos + eaten about 1500 calories today = this weight
Coming up on 24-hour mark, wondering what to do. May feel better just cutting it all off there: simpler. Not hungry right now per se, anyway. But may regret, later, not eating now.
Remind self it's not magic. If I don't eat now and I go under weight, I am then free to eat later.
This extraordinary revelation is comforting.

11:19am
There is no more food. There is no more water. Stopp debating, second-guessing it. Accept it. Go.
Like a fast.
People do this for focus. On purpose, just for itself. Embrace that. Go with that.

11:51am
161.8 lbs
My brain has gone a bit dopey, ineffective.
CVS: buy laxatives?
Or go to spa, sweat some out so no worries... think think think.
Shave, imagining weight of the hairs as they fall from my face.

12:34pm
From here on out nothing happens -- I don't eat, don't drink, and watch my weight gradually fall to make weight. Or less gradually, if I decide I need/want to sauna or something.

1:05pm
Have not gone to CVs or to that sauna. But. fine. Will go to CVS soon.
Sunshowers start. Which is nice. You know what else is nice? Eating food.

2:27pm
161.8
But have peed a couple times. This is freaking me out, on principle.

4:15pm
161.2 lbs
I took my little walk to CVS and imagined that... oh, well.
For those of you who've never cut weight or whatever, all this is totally fine. I mean, it's a bizarre bizarre part of this sport -- the way you stay as big as you can and then get as small as you can. And it's also weird, this swap: how you're "dieting" in a normal way in the weeks leading up to the fight, to get your weight down in a normal way, but then it flips in these last couple of days, and anything with weight (liquids!) becomes an enemy. But what I mean is it's fine; there are people who fight who'd've spent this day in and out of saunas, doing crazy unhealthy shit. I'm just fasting. I feel loopy and weird, and DEFINITELY hope that that weigh-in is promptly at 11am tomorrow so I can get some food on, but I'm fine. People fast all the time. Seriously. And the weight will shed in its way, as it does.

It'd be rad if I just took a big, big poop. Ha-hey!

7:13pm
160.2 lbs

Me: coach you got a minute for some quick food/weight advice? everything's fine. 7:15 PM

Victor Acosta: whats up man 7:15 PM

Me: thanks. lemme send a few texts and i'll say "done" when they are! 7:16 PM

Me: just weighed myself: 160.2 7:16 PM

Me: been nil by mouth since about 10am 7:16 PM

Me: totally not like dying, but obviously hungry; don't want to overdo it or not sleep well, etc. 7:16 PM

Me: what's your advice: protein bar or something densely caloric okay, or keep nil by mouth? 7:17 PM

Me: i can manage either. whatever you think leaves me stronger at 5pm tomorrow. DONE. 7:17 PM

Victor Acosta: caloricly dense complex carbs and high protein to keep you satiated 7:17 PM

Me: this is stupid (i know what complex carbs are) but the night before fights, what was your go-to carb thing? 7:18 PM

Victor Acosta: drink water, you'll prob end up underweight come tomorrow morning, 7:18 PM

Victor Acosta: just make sure you 'vacate' 😏 7:18 PM

Victor Acosta: oh man by this point i was always cutting water weight so i would be in a fasted state for a long time 9:19 PM

Me: i have looked to 'vacation'. as it were. earlier. 7:19 PM

Victor Acosta: Kale, beans and some lean protein 7:19 PM

Me: cool coach. that's really helpful. thanks. 7:19 PM

Victor Acosta: 👍 7:24 PM

8:36pm

161.2 lbs

Cuz I went and HAD DINNER. The dinner I had, and by weight (I could give zero $h1ts at this point about calories; I hope  this was that 10k-calorie chicken breast they've been working on):

0.46 lb chicken breast

0.2 lb butternut squash with caramelized onion

0.11 lb "dark leafy green quinoa" (yes, Whole Foods)

And after weighing myself (which is weird, because it works well including this:

0.15 lb Superfood Carrot Muffin (Beaming)

Separately, now, I am sipping a cup of green tea. Because. And because dehydration is the enemy. The water in this tea (meaning: this tea, pretty much) weighs over 0.5 lbs: I know, I weighed it, pouring it out. But I can't freak out about that. So I'm going to bed around 162, is my guess (we'll see). That ought to be right for the morning. Again, we shall see. But I think it could be--touch wood-- that this has all been coordinated pretty well. If so, it's thanks in large part to that assist from Coach. I definitely would've just famished that out.

It's amazing. I feel better about the whole world.

~11pm (bedtime)
161.2 lbs
superfood carrot muffin + tea - poo = this weight

5/9/15 (fight day), 2:30(ish)am
159.6 lbs

3:57am
158.8 lbs

5:30am
158.8 or 158.6 lbs
The scale flickers, goes back and forth. I get a "net wt. 1 lb." bag of lentils to make sure it's okay; it seems to be, the lentils add exactly a pound to my weight (not so worried about the "net" part -- the plastic bag that they're in probably weighs barely anything)
So, have light breakfast:
0.452 lbs hydration (coffee, actually, ah) + 0.2 lbs protein bar
retire the pen I've had in my kitchen for 2 weeks, marking down calories of everything on bits of paper
I weigh the protein bar on the kitchen scale 3 times to make sure
I make the coffee so hot that it burns my tongue; I feel guilty about drinking it because of caffeine not being such a diuretic, and want to maximize its poo-facilitating hotness ability

6:41am (working)
159.4 lbs
wearing the very boxer briefs I'll wear for the weigh-in (and fight)

At this point I decide: we're good. I didn't think I'd get to eat at all, today. Then:

7(-something)am
158.8 lbs
bonus poo!
have a few sips of water

9:19am
158.2 lbs
after another bonus poo
and another protein bar
amaze
eat functional protein burrito, feeling guilty but also for real
do whole thing calibrating scale again, carrying 2 lb (on kitchen scale) jug of water: yes, it increases my weight by exactly 2 lbs. the scale seems to be fine.

9:53am
158.2 lbs
it alarms me that the burrito, which weighs a third of a pound, is not showing up
try again stepping differently:
158.8 lbs
good. makes more sense
with the cup of water i'll sip on the way in my hand: 159.6. i'll sip it slowly.

stopped working around 9. packed up: didn't take long, was all set.

feed cats. put on clothes.

leave for weigh-in.