I train under the fiction that all life outcomes are foreseeable and fair. For weeks prior to a fight, I believe if I keep working my plan, victory must be mine. 

Years ago, at the Indianapolis 500, fire and life squad units were rushing to a smash-up. A rescuer, running across the track, was hit by an emergency vehicle. He was killed. The truck was traveling in the opposite direction of the slowing race cars. 

Sports Illustrated put it this way: “He failed to look both ways, on the ultimate one way street.” 

I’ve chosen a high-risk business. Fans respond to the “you just never know what’s going to happen” reality of the octagon. But for the fighters, given the randomness of life, their anxieties must be carefully managed. This randomness can be tempered with the notion that if we are mindful, and work hard, the odds will greatly favor us. 

My relationship with God is at the center of my life. It is enhanced by the sense of order math has always provided me. 

And so I try to stay grounded, as I approach the uncertainty that awaits me, inside the octagon. 

At the weigh-in, the day before, I step off the scale at 185-186. (If it’s not a title fight, the UFC permits a 1 pound allowance, and believe me, I use it). 

Since I cut down my food and water intake for days before the weigh-in, my stomach shrinks. Although my mind says EAT, I know I’ll get sick if I pour it on. So after formal announcement of my weight, I’ll eat 3 PB&J, each at 15 minute intervals. 
,br> During this phase I’m drinking a water/Pedialyte mixture at a slow steady pace. Before I go to bed I will have ingested 2 gallons of liquid. Each gallon of water weighs 8 pounds - so I will have taken in 16 pounds of fluid alone.

I’ll leave Sunday for Seattle; Matt Hume will be working with me throughout next week. Although my next UFC fight isn’t scheduled yet, I need to constantly be incorporating the newest fighting techniques into my repertoire. 

The younger, up-and-coming fighters have fresh approaches - not being familiar with them can set the stage for defeat. 

Complacency in the octagon is dangerous. Awareness, tinged with paranoia, rules.

I was trained with the notion of fighting-as-sport, and seeing the other guy as an opponent, not an enemy. The other approach is, frankly, more entertaining, but I like to keep my focus narrow.