I began training in martial arts at the age of 5. This was a family thing, and we all grew up practicing this art. The art I grew up in is called Muay Thai. It is notorious for being the most "brutal" of martial arts, and has been popularized by the explosion of the Ultimate Fighting Championship.
As a child, I longed to fight. I remember being around the age of 10, and watching the adults spar, and wondering how it was any different from actual fighting; it looked the same to me. I remember the discomfort I had when practicing a new technique, and the embarrassment I felt from thinking how awkward I must have looked to everyone. I remember having to learn to "shadow box" without having any clue as to what I was doing; the "real fighters" waited patiently outside of the ring as I awkwardly went about my drills and felt like I was wasting mine, and everyone else's time. As far as I was concerned, I had no business in there, and they were being polite. I was convinced I knew what they were thinking, and they were right, I should just get out and stop taking up space. Of course, there were things I was good at, and they were just enough to keep me going.
I would lie in bed, restlessly, and imagine myself in that ring.
I would picture myself moving like MR Muhammad Ali; gliding gracefully along the canvas as my feet shuffled effortlessly. My hands firing like pistons from below my waist, and from angles that no man could ever imagine.
I vividly pictured myself bouncing off of the ropes as the crowd cheered. My name being chanted by all of the people that had come for me, and even the ones I had won over with my performance.
I even felt the punishment I was taking. I vividly imagined being hit by this giant of a man that I was in the ring with. I also imagined taking everything he had. I saw myself bruised and bloody, my body tired, but my will still strong. I could feel myself get hit, and mentally decide that I was going to win, and I gathered up what strength I could and forced my will upon my opponent. As badly hurt as I was, I surged with one final shot. One final chance for glory, and defeated my opponent. In my mind, at least.
This habit continued for some years. I'd train by day with my insecurities nagging away, and, by nightfall, I was once again the best fighter to have ever surfaced on this earth. I had the strength of ten Hercules, and my skill was unparalleled.
Over time, my brain won. I began to become more confident, and my results grew at a phenomenal rate. Oh, and I finally had a fight in line.
The night of the fight, everyone was nervous. I had a little bit of anxiety, but I was probably the only calm one in the bunch.
They all had faith in me, but they had a pretty decent reason to be concerned. The person I was going to fight had a good six inches on me, and another 20 lbs. He was also a veteran in the ring, and this was my first fight. Other than sparring sessions, I had never been in a fight in my life.
Like I said, I was calm.
When it was time for our fight, we met in the ring and touched gloves. While we were answering the bell, I got hit by a very hard, straight kick. It bounced me a good four feet back.
At this point, everyone was looking for their jackets and car keys.
It then occurred to them that I wasn't quite ready to pack up yet. I kicked my opponent right back, and we both exchanged blow after blow. After being hit once or twice more, it dawned on me that this was a place I was familiar with. I had been hurt, and beaten up, so many times before, but I had not lost, not one time. I took what hits he could land, but I made sure I gave him just as much. I reenacted the same vision I had dreamed up so many times as a kid, lying down in my bed, but this one was finally real.
I recall being dead tired, and almost quitting. That idea was quickly thrown out of the window when I was reminded by that vision I kept, of what I had given up, and how hard I had worked.
I got hit.
I pushed forward even more determined.
I clinched my opponent, and knocked him out.
I was the winner.
Everyone celebrated and cheered for the underdog. I felt greater than I ever had in my life, with the one exception of those times that I would lie down as a child, and push myself in that ring. Daring myself to dig deeper, and to never give up.
I finally earned my place in the ring that night. At least, in my mind I did. And that's what truly mattered.
So, if you think having a goal in mind is silly, or maybe ineffective, remember my tale.
You're going to feel awkward at first. You may feel like you don't belong, and you may want to quit, but that vision will keep you going, and it will happen exactly as you ask it to. I know first hand.
These days, I picture myself NOT getting hit.
Check out our site for more articles like this, and sign up to our newsletter for our guide on 5 steps to taking action and being successful!
Until then, take the Red Pill, and see us in the morning.
As a child, I longed to fight. I remember being around the age of 10, and watching the adults spar, and wondering how it was any different from actual fighting; it looked the same to me. I remember the discomfort I had when practicing a new technique, and the embarrassment I felt from thinking how awkward I must have looked to everyone. I remember having to learn to "shadow box" without having any clue as to what I was doing; the "real fighters" waited patiently outside of the ring as I awkwardly went about my drills and felt like I was wasting mine, and everyone else's time. As far as I was concerned, I had no business in there, and they were being polite. I was convinced I knew what they were thinking, and they were right, I should just get out and stop taking up space. Of course, there were things I was good at, and they were just enough to keep me going.
I would lie in bed, restlessly, and imagine myself in that ring.
I would picture myself moving like MR Muhammad Ali; gliding gracefully along the canvas as my feet shuffled effortlessly. My hands firing like pistons from below my waist, and from angles that no man could ever imagine.
I vividly pictured myself bouncing off of the ropes as the crowd cheered. My name being chanted by all of the people that had come for me, and even the ones I had won over with my performance.
I even felt the punishment I was taking. I vividly imagined being hit by this giant of a man that I was in the ring with. I also imagined taking everything he had. I saw myself bruised and bloody, my body tired, but my will still strong. I could feel myself get hit, and mentally decide that I was going to win, and I gathered up what strength I could and forced my will upon my opponent. As badly hurt as I was, I surged with one final shot. One final chance for glory, and defeated my opponent. In my mind, at least.
This habit continued for some years. I'd train by day with my insecurities nagging away, and, by nightfall, I was once again the best fighter to have ever surfaced on this earth. I had the strength of ten Hercules, and my skill was unparalleled.
Over time, my brain won. I began to become more confident, and my results grew at a phenomenal rate. Oh, and I finally had a fight in line.
The night of the fight, everyone was nervous. I had a little bit of anxiety, but I was probably the only calm one in the bunch.
They all had faith in me, but they had a pretty decent reason to be concerned. The person I was going to fight had a good six inches on me, and another 20 lbs. He was also a veteran in the ring, and this was my first fight. Other than sparring sessions, I had never been in a fight in my life.
Like I said, I was calm.
When it was time for our fight, we met in the ring and touched gloves. While we were answering the bell, I got hit by a very hard, straight kick. It bounced me a good four feet back.
At this point, everyone was looking for their jackets and car keys.
It then occurred to them that I wasn't quite ready to pack up yet. I kicked my opponent right back, and we both exchanged blow after blow. After being hit once or twice more, it dawned on me that this was a place I was familiar with. I had been hurt, and beaten up, so many times before, but I had not lost, not one time. I took what hits he could land, but I made sure I gave him just as much. I reenacted the same vision I had dreamed up so many times as a kid, lying down in my bed, but this one was finally real.
I recall being dead tired, and almost quitting. That idea was quickly thrown out of the window when I was reminded by that vision I kept, of what I had given up, and how hard I had worked.
I got hit.
I pushed forward even more determined.
I clinched my opponent, and knocked him out.
I was the winner.
Everyone celebrated and cheered for the underdog. I felt greater than I ever had in my life, with the one exception of those times that I would lie down as a child, and push myself in that ring. Daring myself to dig deeper, and to never give up.
I finally earned my place in the ring that night. At least, in my mind I did. And that's what truly mattered.
So, if you think having a goal in mind is silly, or maybe ineffective, remember my tale.
You're going to feel awkward at first. You may feel like you don't belong, and you may want to quit, but that vision will keep you going, and it will happen exactly as you ask it to. I know first hand.
These days, I picture myself NOT getting hit.
Check out our site for more articles like this, and sign up to our newsletter for our guide on 5 steps to taking action and being successful!
Until then, take the Red Pill, and see us in the morning.
About the Author:
Mr Webbyfied is the owner and man behind WebbyFied.com, a resource committed to helping individuals stay inspired, and alter their lives for good, mentally and financially. Visit us and let us teach you how to have everything you want given to you! Check us out for more tips on being your own boss, earning money fast, and motivation!
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