How do You Define Fighting?

How do You Define Fighting?

I have two months until Nationals.  On top of the usual Kettlebell training, I’ve amped up my conditioning and breath work by cross-training Systema about four to six hours a week.  I plan on competing next to guys far taller and heavier (read stronger) than myself so my relaxation training is imperative. 

In training for this competition, I can't help but explore the contradiction in my training: I use weights but can’t use only muscle and I must rely on a perfect breathing cycle to maintain a high work capacity.  The irony isn’t lost on me.  I wonder:  Am I fighting during my training?

I don’t define a fight as a bout between people.  When I mean fight, I mean struggle, power through with grace, and attempt to overcome.  (NOTE:  This is my take of the concept of fighting:  I welcome constructive disagreement and other interpretations.)  If I lose my cool during competition, that means I’m fighting.  Competition is a lot different than training:  If you lose your cool, you lose reps.  When I have a clock on me I don’t have the luxury to cry, drop my bells, or even tense up.  That’s why I love training so much.  I can cut loose, try whatever I want, and handle my emotions accordingly—no judges.  I get to fight and I get to be reckless in a controlled setting.

In my last competition, my belt caught on my skin and led to a cut under my belly.  If I were training, I would have dropped the bells and tended to my wound.  Instead, I kept lifting and concentrated on my breath and fixation from my fighting during my training.   I have a scar from that competition but for the trophy I won.  Totally worth it.  My point:  I wasn’t fighting.  I was showcasing the culmination of my fight-filled journey. 

I’m in a fortunate position where I don’t have to fight for my life.  I train—I fight—to strengthen my life. 

Dear reader, how do you fight?