How Bad Do You Want It?

After nearly four years away from the gym, I finally stepped back onto the mat.

One class.

I had trained at home, rolled gently with my wife (a white belt beginner), stretched, rehabbed, breathed, reflected. I had rebuilt something in myself I wasn’t sure I’d ever get back. And that first class back felt like the beginning of a new chapter.

Then I got the flu.

39–40°C fever, day after day. Body aching. No strength. No breath.

I spent most of the day asleep, the rest of it staring at the ceiling, disappointed and frustrated.

I had waited so long to come back.

Now this?

That’s what it felt like life was asking me.

Like some unseen force was saying:

“You say you want this? Let’s find out how bad.”

And the truth is—I didn’t have the energy to fight back.

I couldn’t train. Could barely sit up some days.

Even messaging my coach to cancel class felt heavy—not physically, but emotionally.

Because it wasn’t just a class I was missing.

It was momentum. It was the identity I was trying to reclaim.

It was the story I had just started to tell myself: “I’m back.”

Now I was back in bed.

I didn’t have the strength to roll.

But I could read.

So I picked up a book that had been sitting on my shelf for a while—BJJ Globetrotter, by Christian Graugart.

I didn’t expect much.

But what I got… was exactly what I needed.

His story—about travel, identity, burnout, and community—hit me in a way I didn’t see coming.

Here was someone who also got tired, lost, overwhelmed.

Someone who reconnected with the why behind jiu-jitsu.

Someone who made it his own again.

And for the few hours each day that I was awake and not shivering with fever, I read that book.

And slowly, something inside me came back online.

Reading that book reminded me why I started this blog in the first place.

Not because I’ve got it all figured out.

Not because I’m a black belt guru.

But because I’m someone who’s in it.

Someone who knows what it’s like to fall apart, and try to put it back together—with breath, sweat, doubt, and heart.

This blog isn’t about technique breakdowns or perfect answers.

It’s about sharing the journey—as honestly as I can—so that maybe, if you’re on a similar path, you’ll feel a little less alone.

I didn’t train this week.

I didn’t stretch. I didn’t roll. I barely moved.

But I stayed connected.

To the path. To the purpose. To the quiet discipline that says:

• - “When you're better, you’ll try again.”

Sometimes the practice is just not quitting.

Sometimes it’s letting your body heal, and your mind soften, instead of spiraling into guilt or shame.

This is what yoga teaches too.

That there’s a season for effort—and a season for stillness.

That your breath is still training, even when your body is in bed.

I’m still recovering as I write this.

But I’m also dreaming again.

Of future rolls.

Of the next class.

Of finding my rhythm, slowly but steadily.

And I’m more sure than ever that this blog is part of that journey.

A place to track the wins, the losses, the in-between.

A space to explore not just jiu-jitsu or yoga—but the moments where life asks:
- “How bad do you want it?”

My answer?

Bad enough to come back.

Even if I have to start over again—every damn time.

If you’re feeling stuck, sick, or sidelined…

If you’ve just started again and life immediately kicked you in the ribs…

Take a breath.

You’re not behind.

You’re not weak.

You’re in the practice—right here, right now.

And that counts.

Flow. Fight. Fatherhood.
Even when you're in bed. Especially then.