By: Beast Mode
Food. I remember the days when i could eat anything and never even think to ask where it came from, or what the hell was in it. I miss those days. Going to Burger King and ordering 2 triple whoppers (1200 calories each), or eating quarts of ice cream and washing it down with a 'liter of cola'....Yeah, I was that guy. Now, all I see are calories, protein/carbohydrate intake, ingredients. But this is how it goes when you're eating for a purpose. It turns something you once enjoyed, into a chore, or something you despise. My fridge that once housed a variety of foods now only keeps the basics: chicken, beef, and fish. My cupboards only stock bags of rice and granola. My deserts nowadays consist of Greek yogurt and some fresh cut fruit. Tasty? Sure, to those who don't eat the same shit day in and day out.
I try to mix it up though, but even the average joe can tell I'm not one of them. Not one of the many people looking at the menu aimlessly, not giving a fuck what's in the "Mexican surprise". Bastards, enjoy that shit (even if it does sound like some slang term for a Mexican STD). The workers spot me too, mostly because instead of just accepting the dish for what it is I have to "have it my way".
Just today I was at FREEBIRDS (like Chipotle, but better) and the girl behind the counter caught on quick as soon as I ordered the burrito bowl:
"Would you like a tortilla at the bottom of the bowl?" She asks me, smiling and waiting to make my dining cuisine come to fruition.
"No, thank you", I respond. This order is one I've made time and time again. Same meal, same shit, different day.
"Would you like rice or cheese?" She continues, still smiling ear to ear.
"No, thank you".
"Would you like any food at all in this bowl?" The smile turns into a devilish grin as she knows her sarcasm has been conveyed.
I chuckle and respond, "yeah, let me get double chicken, all white meat, and double black beans with all of the raw veggies and no salt".
"Wow! These black beans must be good if you want double servings." her eyes grow to look like fucking tennis balls as the food piles onto my plate.
" I guess, it's all for the protein really. I can't slack on the diet." My response seems to spark her interest.
" Are you some type of fitness model or athlete or something?" She looks at me, analyzing my physique.
" Nah, just a guy trying to stay healthy and lean." I try to hold back the cockiness and confidence that resonates throughout my entire body. A task that does not come easy to me. Especially considering I'm wearing my BJJ Lifestyle Academy t-shirt, representing a family I am honored to be apart of.
" Oh, well you should really think about doing some modeling or something. I don't see many guys around here with your type of look. And I've never seen anyone order anything this healthy since I've been working here." Her suggestion sounds an awful like a compliment, I think to myself.
"Thanks, I'll have to look into that." I smile, thank her and commence to working on the big task of eating my re-constructed burrito bowl.
The moral of the story is that we (Beasts) are not like the rest of the world. We know it, and they see it. Cheat days are few and far between, while everyday is like groundhogs day in regards to these fucking meals we shovel down our suck holes. Anyone can lift weights and mix a couple protein shakes in a blender. Train throwing on a triangle choke and eventually you'll tap someone out with it. But the diet is where one really gets to test their discipline. To be defeated by something as simple as a chicken breast, steamed veggies and some brown rice might sound like a stupid loss....but that rational is why everyone is not built like we are.
Anyone who knows me, knows I love looking in the mirror. Not because I dress well (I really don't, as I only wear board shorts and tank tops) or because I have rockstar haircut ( A shaved head hardly counts as a haircut at all. Actually, I think it says 'I'm too busy to give a fuck about hair at all.'), but because it's a simple reminder that I'm working and the work is showing. It shows progress and let's everyone know that you eat to live, not live to eat. So next time you crave that Big Mac or those fucking salty ass fries they serve at the golden arches, look at the body you have....better yet, look at the bodies of the obese folks walking out of that place. I don't know about you, but I'm not in any rush to look like that.
With that said, May 9th will be a cheat day. I want nothing more than to sit down with my fresh gold medal around my neck and bite into a juicy t-bone steak, giant twice baked potato and NY cheese cake. No, not with knife and fork in hand! That's not beastly! I'm grabbing that motha'fucker with my bare hands and biting the shit out of it with the fangs God has seen fit to bless me with. To the victor go the spoils, gentlemen/ladies. But until then, back to the grilled fish, salad, and gallon of water....May 9th is around the corner!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
IBJJF DALLAS (Part 2): Voices
By: Dominic BEASTMODE Brisbin
"Skip it today, bro! One workout wont make a difference. I'm sure all of the other guys that are competing aren't training as hard as you are...". These are the voices I hear when I wake up. The asshole whispering this shit in my ear is myself. Beast Mode doesn't wanna' hear Dom's shit today. "C'mon bro, your girl just left you and your ankle looks fucked up! Just go pick up some beer and enjoy your weekend"....Dom is relentless when it comes to the temptation of relaxing. Beast Mode does not share his affinity for enjoying "the good life". I gotta' block him out and get on the mat. Block out the fact that I just got dumped by my girlfriend and all of the pain that comes along with that. Block out the fact that my ankle looks like a softball and feels like it's as strong as a toothpick. Dom isn't in control anymore, all that's left is BEAST MODE.
I have to believe that my enemies are training harder, that their technique is superior to mine, and that they want it more than I do. These things along with all of the voices propel me to keep training. I love it though, this pain that drives me to keep pushing through the sprints. That loneliness that plagues my soul also drives me to do those extra sets of kettlebell swings. Now, don't get me wrong....I'd like nothing more than to have my girlfriend back ( I mean c'mon, she's fucking beautiful!).And a healed ankle sure would make training a lot smoother. But for now, I thrive on all of the bullshit. With all of this shit goin' on just in the first week of training, I feel as though I have enough motivation to last me until the tournament.
These are the times where you earn the gold medal, gentleman (and ladies). If we float through the competition would the victory mean as much? I think not. Those voices you hear, preaching words of laziness and negativity...block them out. Use what you can, be it joy or pain. With week 2 of training halfway through, I'm as amped as ever to step onto the mat and leave Dallas as the victor. But for now, it's back to training, back to the workouts, back to blocking out the voices...
"Skip it today, bro! One workout wont make a difference. I'm sure all of the other guys that are competing aren't training as hard as you are...". These are the voices I hear when I wake up. The asshole whispering this shit in my ear is myself. Beast Mode doesn't wanna' hear Dom's shit today. "C'mon bro, your girl just left you and your ankle looks fucked up! Just go pick up some beer and enjoy your weekend"....Dom is relentless when it comes to the temptation of relaxing. Beast Mode does not share his affinity for enjoying "the good life". I gotta' block him out and get on the mat. Block out the fact that I just got dumped by my girlfriend and all of the pain that comes along with that. Block out the fact that my ankle looks like a softball and feels like it's as strong as a toothpick. Dom isn't in control anymore, all that's left is BEAST MODE.
I have to believe that my enemies are training harder, that their technique is superior to mine, and that they want it more than I do. These things along with all of the voices propel me to keep training. I love it though, this pain that drives me to keep pushing through the sprints. That loneliness that plagues my soul also drives me to do those extra sets of kettlebell swings. Now, don't get me wrong....I'd like nothing more than to have my girlfriend back ( I mean c'mon, she's fucking beautiful!).And a healed ankle sure would make training a lot smoother. But for now, I thrive on all of the bullshit. With all of this shit goin' on just in the first week of training, I feel as though I have enough motivation to last me until the tournament.
These are the times where you earn the gold medal, gentleman (and ladies). If we float through the competition would the victory mean as much? I think not. Those voices you hear, preaching words of laziness and negativity...block them out. Use what you can, be it joy or pain. With week 2 of training halfway through, I'm as amped as ever to step onto the mat and leave Dallas as the victor. But for now, it's back to training, back to the workouts, back to blocking out the voices...
Monday, April 4, 2011
IBJJF Dallas (Part 1): The Decision
By Dominic BeastMode Brisbin
No building lasts without a strong foundation. The same thing goes for people, even those living a BEAST MODE way of life. Training gets crazy, practices run late, and there's always the injuries. The foundation is a key component to pushing through all of that shit. My parents drafted the blueprint, my friends lay the brick, and my girl does all of the quality checks. These people all play important roles in keeping me on track. One person who has become an integral part of this support structure is my sister, Sheila. Sheila is probably the one person I know who will get me through all of the B.S., deal with my fucked up attitude, and still somehow manage to call me her brother. From cooking the meals for my diet, to helping me get over all of my injuries, or just being there to kick it during my down time: Sheila holds it down. So when I told her I was needing something to do to take my mind off of all of the B.S. goin' on in my life lately, her response was simple: "Do what you do and go compete. Keep doing all of the things everyone knows you for because that's what makes you happy and that's why we love you!"
So the search began! Deciding on if I wanted to compete in MMA or Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, my training schedule, and how long I wanted to give myself to train were all things I had to figure out. And then it appeared: the advertisement for the DALLAS INTERNATIONAL IBJJF CHAMPIONSHIP, almost like it was a sign from God himself (More New Testament sign than Old Testament....But a burning bush or a plague would have been badass too). 'MAY 8TH' read as the day of the event. Only a little over a month to train and prepare my body for another war. Between now and then, it's time for me to sharpen the technique and let BEAST MODE take over. The only way to win is to abandon all of the other worries, all of the other wants, and cares. Because, brothers and sisters, at the end of it all the only option is victory. Anything less is unacceptable!
So now I have the date, the venue, and the training schedule set. All there is left to do is take the victory along with the souls of my vanquished foes. Even as I'm writing this my mind is already on the mat, visualizing each match, each raise of my hand in victory, and the weight of the gold medal once again around my neck. The journey has begun, so put your fuckin' seat belts on!!!
No building lasts without a strong foundation. The same thing goes for people, even those living a BEAST MODE way of life. Training gets crazy, practices run late, and there's always the injuries. The foundation is a key component to pushing through all of that shit. My parents drafted the blueprint, my friends lay the brick, and my girl does all of the quality checks. These people all play important roles in keeping me on track. One person who has become an integral part of this support structure is my sister, Sheila. Sheila is probably the one person I know who will get me through all of the B.S., deal with my fucked up attitude, and still somehow manage to call me her brother. From cooking the meals for my diet, to helping me get over all of my injuries, or just being there to kick it during my down time: Sheila holds it down. So when I told her I was needing something to do to take my mind off of all of the B.S. goin' on in my life lately, her response was simple: "Do what you do and go compete. Keep doing all of the things everyone knows you for because that's what makes you happy and that's why we love you!"
So the search began! Deciding on if I wanted to compete in MMA or Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, my training schedule, and how long I wanted to give myself to train were all things I had to figure out. And then it appeared: the advertisement for the DALLAS INTERNATIONAL IBJJF CHAMPIONSHIP, almost like it was a sign from God himself (More New Testament sign than Old Testament....But a burning bush or a plague would have been badass too). 'MAY 8TH' read as the day of the event. Only a little over a month to train and prepare my body for another war. Between now and then, it's time for me to sharpen the technique and let BEAST MODE take over. The only way to win is to abandon all of the other worries, all of the other wants, and cares. Because, brothers and sisters, at the end of it all the only option is victory. Anything less is unacceptable!
So now I have the date, the venue, and the training schedule set. All there is left to do is take the victory along with the souls of my vanquished foes. Even as I'm writing this my mind is already on the mat, visualizing each match, each raise of my hand in victory, and the weight of the gold medal once again around my neck. The journey has begun, so put your fuckin' seat belts on!!!
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