Hello loyal readers, and welcome to another off-the-wall look into the life of mixed martial artist.

Today, I am going to give some insight as to why someone would put themselves through what I consider a grueling lifestyle.

Let’s start by going back to the beginning. I got into wrestling at a young age, probably around 7 or 8 years old. Myself and most of the guys and gals from the 1980s generation grew up with Hulk Hogan, and like most of the other kids who said their prayers and took their vitamins, I wanted to have 24-inch pythons, so I figured I better find some "wrassling."

I was honestly convinced that by signing up to wrestle I would be flying off the ropes and body slamming people into oblivion.

Needles to say that is not how it went down. I was VERY small until I was 17 or 18 (I wrestled at 112 pounds as a sophomore) and to say I got put through the ringer my first few years of wrestling would be an understatement.

Eventually though, as I grew older and started to get deeper appreciation on the fluidity of moves, wrestling started to give me a confidence that I had never felt before. Anyone who grew up traveling to tournaments and finding matches anywhere we could can relate to the fact that wrestling teaches us so many things that can be used in everyday life.

Work hard every day and you can achieve your goals. Lose a match and it falls on your shoulders. Don’t make

weight, you don’t wrestle. You are responsible for your own actions in wrestling from the get-go. I learned how to be a man from wrestling, and I will always carry that with me.

There was another movement in the '80s that pushed kung-fu, karate and tae-kwon-do to the forefront of our suburban landscapes. "The Karate Kid," "Bloodsport" and "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" made us want to throw ninja stars, lift our leg for the crane kick and fight Frank Dux. I had my nunchucks and ninja outfits to help me attain levels of awesomeness rarely seen by mere mortals. I watched "Best of the Best," "American Ninja" and "Enter the Dragon," so I knew what I was doing. I couldn’t afford to go to a traditional martial arts school in those days, so I got my training in my imagination. Who knew what the future would bring!

Then, in the '90s, a revolution happened. All of the talk of what would happen if Muhammad Ali fought Bruce Lee or Dan Gable took on the likes of Chuck Norris. Why not build a cage, throw people from every fight discipline in a tournament similar to the Kumite in Bloodsport. Then, to top it all off, let’s have a skinny little guy take everyone out???

Wait a minute here, you mean to tell me that my wax on, wax off technique will not hold up in a real fight? I can’t grab his wrist and roll him over into my horse-stance karate chop? The truth was in the Gracie style. Most real fights end up in a clinch or on the ground, and Royce Gracie, with his 170-pound frame, white pajama pants and bathrobe, took all styles into his world and showed the martial arts community that Gracie Jiu-Jitsu was the cat’s meow.

I myself started my mma training at a Rickson Gracie affiliate in Burnsville and was instantly wrapped up in the cosmic wonder that is the Gracie universe. BJJ had shown me that no matter what size the person was that technique and a calm demeanor in the face of a threat can overcome.

The humility that comes from being choked unconscious by someone who is almost half your size is something that changes a man. The ability to open the door and have your opponent walk through that door is another aspect of BJJ that resembles setting traps in a chess game and is an essential aspect of developing a good ground game.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. What does any of this have to do with why people fight? Well, even though some thugs (Kimbo Slice and Tank Abbott) have infiltrated MMA. The majority of us who compete do so from a desire to test ourselves.

We come to terms with the fact that ourselves or our opponents can end up injured. We spend time away from our families and social lives while we are training. We sacrifice cheeseburgers, ice cream and beer to keep our diet clean, so our body can run like a finely tuned machine.

Trust me when I tell you it’s certainly not for the money. Unless you’re on a big show and have big sponsors, you're probably still working at least part-time to pay the bills.

So what is it then? What makes us do all of these insane things to our ourselves and to our families?

The desire to test ourselves — one-on-one — no team to fall back on. In the purest form of combat. To see if all the hard work is worth the pain. For those few seconds of hearing, ”AND THE WINNER IS...”

That feeling of victory in the cage in front of hundreds, maybe thousands of fans, is very hard to top. To come to the realization that the hours of training, the sacrifice of our time with our families and the dieting from weight cutting were all worth it.

The pats on the back, the congratulatory after-parties, the hugs from your wife as she feels all the punches and kicks. These are what we do it for. Those simple things drive us to risk so much for so little.