There I stood, facing my mighty foe! Muscle failure was happening all over my body. I could barely take a step forward, barely throw a jab. My limbs were like lead, but I knew I had to keep going. She looked tired, too. I was cramping up. No! Not that feeling! Horror bloomed in my heart like a poisonous flower. The fight was almost over. I hadn’t won yet. Why does my body fail me so? I hate my body. I knew I had to….
“One more take-down. Can you give me one more take-down, Roxy?” Miesha Tate said earnestly, her eyes locking mine.
“Yes!” I breathed. “One more take down.”
I might still win.
I forced my failing body into motion, slamming into my opponent. Pain burst through my temple. She braced herself. I cried out with effort, scooping legs and landing heavily on top of her.
She was down! I did it!
I rose up to do ground and pound, and I felt warm wetness slide down my face. Blood started dripping steadily onto my glove, onto the ground. I paused…..
Actually, I was just sparring with Heather. When I shot for my take down, my face slammed into her boney hip, cutting open my temple.
…….okay, I don’t know about my other fellow fighters….but extreme moments in fights I’ve lost come back to me in flashes. They are like mental and emotional scars. They hurt for a while, and bleed when they’re fresh. Then they scab over and mostly go away, leaving a trace of what they once were.
I was joking about the ‘foe’ thing, but in sparring, when I felt my muscles get tired from overuse, it reminds me of a few times in my recent fights, especially in TUF. It feels like only yesterday. The loss hurts so much, but it’s motivation to train hard so I’ll never get that feeling again. The fact that I lost in the way I did infuriates me. I swear right here and now, I’ll never lose to the powerbomb again, and I’ll never be gassed again.
(pic copyright ZUFFA/Fox Sports)