cage fighting

I knew the end was unavoidable.

It was coming whether I chose it or not.

The only choice I had was to; fight then retire & heal OR fight & die.

Retiring from the sport was forced upon me.

I wasn’t ready.

There was no fight camp to prepare me for how much saying goodbye would hurt.

I wasn’t fighting IN a cage. I was fighting THEE cage.

My body was done before my mind was.

I stuck it out.

I woke up that morning.

A collar bone out, 3 ribs clinging to floating meat.

15 minutes.

That’s all I had to do.

Suffer through 15 minutes.

15 opponents.

2 swallowed shots of vomit.

1 gnarly knee ride.

I whimpered.

I cried.

I fucking made it.

Blue and I’m done, I repeated to myself.

I fought while my bones grinned and popped on each other.

I fought my last fight.

I gave it my all.

Left all I had on that mat.

Pissed blood for days and permanently glued ice to my body, but I earned that color.

I knew the end was unavoidable and I won that fight against the cage.