The Zombie Becomes A Punching Bag

Well today, I decided to try my hand at Mixed Martial Arts. There is a training facility down the road from me and I decided to give it a try. I am a fan of the sport, and it looks easy on TV, so why not. Today I officially became the stupidest man on the entire face of this earth. I get there and they stretch you out in ways I haven't been stretched. Ever. Then they stood us up and said we had to stand with (Fist fight) every guy in there. No matter yours or their experience or weight or lifestyle. I first fought the youth kid I brought (yes I brought one of my students). It was fun, not too bad a couple shots here a couple there, a little rope a dope. Nice. Then I fought this enormous guy who proceeded to punch my face over and over again sending me reeling backwards and eventually to the floor. He laughed, my jaw felt broken. I got up and he punched me in the face some more. By now blood trickled from my lower lip and I smiled with red teeth. Also, I had no mouth guard. We were to fight 3 three minute rounds, with a minute break in between, then switch opponents and fight another 3 then another 3. The electric fence felt like a massage compared to the terrific beating I took. We finally got punched in the face enough, so he made us do some Jiu-Jitsu which I have prided myself in all these years. We took turns throwing each other to the ground with all of our force then stomping on each others arms and ribs until we were "Mounted." If you don't know what that is, do not worry, I was not raped, however mounting is when the bad guy gets on top of you with his legs basically pinning your arms down, then he punches you in the face until you die or give up. After the torture was over, we did some more agonizing stretches and it was over and I was sent limping home to my wife whom new I was an idiot. But you know what? It was a test. I can see what the movie Fight Club was talking about. There is something liberating about being broken down physically, emotionally, and mentally. You are forced to fight and go to places in your head that you usually do not visit to muster up the strength to not give up. I took a lot of punches, and I bled, but I kept going. I kept coming at them and getting punched again. Most will say this is insanity, but I say it was a necessary test. It puts things back into perspective for me with all of this nonsense that is going on in my life. Like the bird that snagged that fish. Getting beat up in every way reminded me that I need God. I need to stop fighting on my own and look to God. When I was drained of any energy I had left, I thought about the things that God has brought me through in my life and this little thing, this stupid thing will not ruin me. It only took some blood and sweat and tears. No not tears. (I did not cry, even though I wanted too). I told you I would be focusing on the Grizzly in me.