When I visited the troops in Iraq, the medical facilities were surprisingly empty at the bases. So when I was sent to North Carolina’s Camp Lejune, I was unprepared for what I saw. I was left shaken. 

I hope I’m better prepared mentally for this weekend. I pray for the soldiers and their families.

The human body cannot handle 22 hours of intense physical exertion 52 weeks a year. 

I lower the intensity when I’m not preparing for combat.

When I’m fighting a UFC battle, I must read the man before me. I have to guess his thoughts and anticipate his moves. I’m thinking quickly, every fraction of every second. 

My 185 lb adversaries are trained assassins. They rush me in a blur of arms and legs, swinging and kicking with menacing fury. If I fail to instantly interpret the guy’s approach and act smartly, I suffer big consequences. 

When dealing with others in our daily world, we’re in the verbal octagon. We need answers to hurried questions: What’s that supposed to mean? Am I being toyed with? Let that comment go or fire back? How to best deal with this situation? 

The steel-fence octagon demands experienced combat judgment. The verbal octagon demands we decode what really is being communicated. 

In each octagon, we have to rely on our well-honed skills that operate at the speed of instinct. The satisfaction of getting it right is one of the things we live for. 

When preparing for a fight, my boxing coach, Rob Radford, runs me though a 30-40 minute assisted stretching routine. 

I’d do an assisted stretching routine everyday, if time allowed

I was there because I was hungry to realize my goal of someday fighting professionally in the octagon, to be worthy of that honor. Today I train in all types of facilities, focusing on what I’m doing and not where I am. 

Rocky Marciano was a poor boy who grew up just outside Boston. He became the only heavyweight boxing champion to win every fight of his professional career (1952-1956), most by KO. He perfected his legendary right power punch while training in unimpressive gyms. Rocky thrived when working out on old equipment in worn facilities. He liked the look and smell that reminded him of earlier, hungry days. 

Horse racing’s greatest, Willie Shoemaker, was a contemporary of Marciano. Also a poor boy, he went on to become the first jockey to win over $100 million. Deep into his career, a sports writer asked Shoemaker how he lost his competitive drive. Willie replied: “It’s hard to get up at 5 in the morning, when you’re wearing silk pajamas.” 

There are Willies and there are Rockies. Some who lose their appetite and some for whom the fire in the belly never dies. 

When you just don’t feel it anymore, it’s time to bow out. Lose your hunger and you’ll end up someone else’s food. 

Keep Striving, Rich Franklin