A couple of years ago, I was part of a running club. I figured that it would help with motivation to run with a group rather than solo. Plus I thought that I would learn some new techniques or eliminate bad habits.

As the weeks went by, my speed and stamina improved. I did a couple 10K races and had entered myself in a 10 mile race. One morning during training, I lost focus for a couple seconds while crossing the street, and stepped into a concrete tree planter– my ankle went sideways and all my weight came down and twisted it.

I had to pull out of the race, but a few weeks later, I was back with the group. Although now I was at the back of the pack on a hot, sunny day while trekking uphill. Two things that challenge me are the heat and gradients– and even a minor incline is something you notice.

A girl came up to me and said something interesting, “Don’t even feel inferior.” Of course, if you knew this type of person– catty, mentally weak, probing for weakness– you’d understand what she really meant: “Please feel inferior to help me displace my own negative feelings that I can’t handle.”

Layoff aside, I kicked it into a higher gear and took off at a higher pace. First I put 100 meters between us, then 200, 300. But I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure I would be ahead. I sprinted through traffic lights to make sure I didn’t catch red lights instead of being happy to take a rest.

I felt relieved when I reached the running store where we met before and after the runs. I sat there, drinking my bottle of water when she came in– and in a voice loud enough for me to hear, proclaimed, “My quad is sore”– her excuse for lagging behind. As she said it I spit my mouthful of water into the planter next to me in disgust of her poor sportsmanship.

The next week, the weather was cooler and I ran an even better time, with the woman who was rude to me finishing even further behind. But all the small things that I disliked about the running group were crystallized by that one woman’s attitude. I made excuses and stopped going, eventually realizing that even though I showed up and ran the distance, I didn’t share much in common with the other members.

It’s funny how one person’s negativity can motivate us or make us seek out greener pastures. I have to say that I learned a lot from the experience of that running club, but the most important lesson was that I avoid the herd and take things at my own pace.

At the walk-in clinic, during my two-hour wait, I noticed how rude and disrespectful people were towards the nurses. One older man had his health card rejected because they said it was expired; another guy was called by his first name–they both reacted the same way: Becoming irritated and yelling at the nurse in front of everyone.

In turn, the nurse was cold and distanced when interacting with everyone. Fact is, this was her defense against the daily hazards of her job. Namely, working in a toxic environment with ungrateful people who took her presence for granted.

I thanked her as she left the examination room. I think it got through a little bit, but then her guard went straight back up. Otherwise, people would take advantage of her like they do to anyone working in a CSR position–as someone to vent pent-up frustration and anger towards.

Then again, there might be another approach besides the attitude she adopted (total detachment). Another woman working the front desk was actually very friendly, or so it seemed. It’s hard to say without more observation. But I don’t plan on visiting a doctor’s office again for a long, long time.

Last night was magical as Lyoto “The Dragon” Machida won the 205 lb title at UFC 98. Using movement and expert timing, Machida reduced Rashad Evans to a frustrated and hesitant target. With superior accuracy, Evans was knocked out in the second round as Machida took his place at the top.

For years, I have been watching Machida’s progress. Early on, I felt that he was someone special who had a distinctive aura and unique style. His use of Shotokan Karate, taught by his father, has become the lynch-pin in his arsenal. Many were critical of the manner in which he would take his time to dissect opponents, but this strategy has proven superior: His opponents live in permenant anxiety, with no idea when or where the next attack will come; this leaves them unable to prepare for their inevitable destruction. 

It’s times like these when we can celebrate the achievement of a true traditional martial artist who has found success in an arena that broke down many myths and exaggerations propagated by the martial arts community. Coming full circle, the same values remain important all the way though in respect, honour and sacrifice.

So congradulations to Machida and his team. He represents more than a title or undefeated record, but a way of life that we should seek to emulate within the context of our own paths.

I’ve got a couple of weeks before I start my new gig. This looks to be one of the best summers approaching in memory–especially when I get to spend time on the waterfront. The weather is great, the view stunning, and people are friendly– especially the tourists and visitors to Toronto.

The most important thing there is to a writer is what’s known as a metier; in one context, this can be defined as the life experiences that you will draw upon to ply your trade. Any event or occurrence can be the inspiration for a great piece of work. Even a traumatic or disturbing event can be a great source of both inspiration and momentum when laying down tracks for a new project.

There’s no way you can work your way up. You have to have the vision to see what’s on the line coupled with the dedication and persistence to see it through. All it takes to get the ball rolling is a glittering idea that forms the seed for all the action that follows.

The biggest pitfall comes in the form of compromises. Some people can deal with giving less than their best. In other cases, we can be rewarded for towing the line and allowing our thoughts to be dictated by others. In the long run, there is a critical part of the human soul that gets lost when we no longer hold the keys to our own freedom of self-expression.

There’s a real sense of fulfillment that comes with getting your point across. Some people can launch tirade after tirade, on a million bar stools to a million indifferent patrons and bartenders, without ever getting to the crux of their being. As an artist, you know that your goal is to get that understanding and achieve that breakthrough in a timely and concise way.

So I’m going to keep steamrolling ahead. There really is no other option.

I finally finished Season 6 of The Sopranos. The series started strong and really had me hooked up until around the 5th season when things began to drag. The same plots repeated themselves, with little variation, thus eliciting little surprise.

What I notice is that Tony Soprano ends up killing many of the people he professes to love: Starting with longtime friend Big Pussy, then Adrianna, his cousin Tony Blundetto, and finally Chris Moltisanti, they all die directly from Tony’s hand. One would argue that Big Pussy and Adrianna had to go because they were informants for the Feds; you could even rationalize Blundetto’s death as the rival New York family wanted to torture and kill him, but I never quite understood why things went awry with Moltisanti, who Tony often remarked was like a son to him.

I was bracing for the series finale, expecting the ending to be “bleak” as a TV critic had mentioned a couple years back. I never wanted to get caught up in the hype that existed around the series as the drama unfolded– I always wanted to keep that distance and understand it in my own time.

The end question to me is whether Tony was treated for his depression by Dr. Melfi, his psychiatrist. She refuses any further contact or sessions with him after reading a study that states sociopaths are not helped at all by talk therapy.  The link between Tony and his therapist is a major plot point because his relationship with her mirrors the audiences sympathy for Tony, even as he ventures further and further into criminal activity.

Some critics went for the “Emperor’s New Clothes” outlook, claiming the last episode was genius. The main thing with any story, especially a TV series, is that it just has to work at the time. There was a lot of staying power with The Sopranos, with the individual episodes being as powerful as the best mob films–The Godfather, Goodfellas, Casino. To me, it doesn’t matter how it ended so much as how it went episode by episode, blow-by-blow.

I look at David Chase’s biography (the creator of the show) and see that there’s nothing illustrious or wildly successful in his resume until The Sopranos.  He had worked on some hit shows like The Rockford Files, but he’d also put in time with material that verged on the barely-palatable, like Northern Exposure.

When I was watching the show, I really did hope that there was going to be a special revelation in the end that would tell us something insightful or unique about humans, the mob world, or families. But the closest that I ever came to seeing this was Tony and associate Paul Gaultieri sitting outside the Pork store. It’s just the two of them as all their former friends and associates have moved on– and died. You can sense the loneliness in the air, but it’s troubling that they themselves can’t see what’s happened over the course of their lives.

Part of me wonders if we’re going to see anything with the same power and conviction again. If it happens, it won’t come from the synchophants and careerists involved in the film and television business. A lot of people go out of their way to sign on when a hit is made or a star is born– but the beginnings of something truly amazing can often be humble, with much time spent on an arduous journey.

HBO still manages to lead the pack with it’s programming, so they must have some kind of system or process to get to the good stuff.

***

EDIT — Here’s a great article on Vincent Curatola, who played New York mob boss Johnny Sack:

‘He insists that an actor must be himself in order to succeed. If he had one piece of advice to give to aspiring actors, it would be simply to “be you,” since no audience is interested in hearing a false voice. Other cast members of The Sopranos have also discussed personal similarities to their characters, including James Gandolfini. “I’m playing an Italian lunatic from New Jersey, and that’s basically what I am,” he has said in past interviews according to CBS news.

Not only did Vince build on his own personality traits to play Johnny, but he also infused specific parts of his own life into the character. One example of this is the untimely death of his mother, which took place in 1967 when he was only fourteen. Vince channeled this event to express Johnny’s perpetual disappointment and distrust of happiness.

He recounts, “It was a huge funeral in Englewood on a beautiful, sunny, early September morning. I remember saying to myself, ‘I think my life is over. I think I’m never gonna be happy, I think I’m never gonna stop missing her, and I think there is no human being alive that’s ever gonna make me forget what I’m feeling this morning.’” In a slow, heavy tone Vince adds that he called up this memory for “each and every single take I ever played as the character of Johnny Sack on The Sopranos.”.’

In the classroom, there are people who speak because they have something to share– and then there are those who talk because they like the sound of their own voice. I have been frustrated dealing with the latter variety because they fill the room with mindless chatter.

People always seem to want attention, but you should only get it if you’ve earned it first. It’s a reward for doing something positive for yourself or others. Fact is, many people today would prefer to be famous for the sake of being famous than known for possessing a special talent or ability.

Is it really a good feeling to know that you were forgotten quickly because there was no point whatsoever to your words? I have to imagine that the attention-seekers feel empty and ignored when their time spent hijacking meaningful discussion is up.

I decided against spending the day window shopping, star-gazing or even exercising. Sleep became a top priority and I got all I could handle. Come the evening of the event, I dressed casually and went out to the media entrance of the Bell Center to collect my press pass.

In the bowels of the 22,000 capacity arena, this time around, it was GSP who was looking for directions.

“Where is the dressing room?” He asked me.

I pointed him to the far side where half the card was slated to warm-up prior to entering the octagon. No doubt, he would be supporting his teammate David “The Crow” Loiseau in his first comeback fight in the UFC. 

My seat was press row center. No one was closer to the action than the television cameramen and the photographers shooting at an upward angle from the bottom edge of the octagon. Again, major media outlets from everywhere in North America were represented. I was between the Zuffa PR writer and a Newsday reporter.

Sitting that close gives you a special perspective. Things you normally see on television appear far different from up close. I watched Loiseau stun Ed Herman a couple of times, could hear the sound of Cheick Kongo’s fists slapping Hardonk’s sides like mallet hitting a slab of beef–but most of all, I watched Shogun return from the brink of obscurity and reclaim his place among the light-heavyweights.

Backstage, I saw things that came in fragments, but seemed to complete the picture. There was a stretcher that never needed to be used; there was the entire Pit team commiserating over a case of Bud; and there was Anderson Silva waiting for the cue to walk-out. Using the same lane to get to my seat as the fighters did to walk to the octagon always felt surreal–maybe a little foreshadowing when you believe in yourself and know that greater things are to come?

The post-fight press conference was supposed to be the coda for the evening, but two things overshadowed the whole proceeding: The question of Chuck retiring and the critcicism of Anderson Silva’s performance. Shogun and Sam Stout got asked few questions, and were content to smile and savour their wins. Chuck was irritated by the lack of understanding the media had towards Anderson’s tactics and openly berated us before he left early to go to the bar.

With the proceedings wrapping up so late, even after cabbing it, I only got to spend about 30 minutes at a nightclub (Cafe Campus) before closing. Outside, a group of guys claimed that one of them was an MMA fighter and had been on the card. You can imagine his surprise when he was called on the lie (He claimed to have been joking, right).

For all the action packed into the last 48 hours, I am raring to head home and get back to work. After all, it’s been my own discipline, drive and dedication that has taken me this far. I know what I want out of life and I just have to keep working towards it.

From Montreal, this is your humble narrator signing off.

A few notes about how the weekend is unfolding. I checked in at 8:30 AM and took a little nap, as well as a nice shower to get rid of the oil and sweat that just sits on your skin whenever you travel for a long period of time. By the afternoon, I was ready to go and headed down to the Bell Center (five minutes from my Hotel) for a press lunch with WEC 145 lb champion Mike Brown.

We heard about the early wild wild west days when MMA was NHB (No-Holds-Barred). He also told some funny stories about the odd jobs he used to do before fighting paid him enough to be a professional. Unassuming, sharp and teak-tough, Brown gave an awesome talk at the end of the luncheon.

From there, video game maker THQ sponsored a preview of their new UFC game, Undisputed. They actually flew in journalists from everywhere– MuchMusic, CTV, ESPN and a host of other outlets to cover the release of the game. I was having a hard time finding the venue, getting lost in the labyrinth of the Bell Center’s levels. That’s when I ran into Georges St. Pierre, who thankfully was going to the same event.

As we took the elevator up, he mused to his manager about how Steve “Wonderboy” Thompson, a karate-fighter, had sparred with a bunch of guys including pro boxers and was beating all of them. At the event, Dana White played GSP in a trial of the game. GSP was himself and Dana was B.J. Penn. It was a war, with Dana having an undefeated record of 3-0 playing the game against Rampage, Dan Henderson and Michael Bisping– but in the end, GSP knocked Dana’s character out with an elbow.

 At 4:00 PM, the fan club got a special Q & A with GSP in the Bell Center. It was very intimate, with a mere 4,000 members showing up to ask questions at mics located on the floor. There was a sea of Affliction, Tapout and loud jeering/cheering sports fans.

From 6:00 to 7:00 PM were the weigh-ins for the fights. Joe Rogan had a tremendous amount of charisma and used his voice to resonate to every corner of the stadium. The music was blaring and the energy was off the hook. I was pleased to see Mark Bocek and Shogun Rua step onto the scales–and I’m telling you, fighters look much smaller in real life than they do on television.

 The whole series of proceedings gave me a sense of dislocation. Being surrounded by people, cameras, sound and the anxiety/anticipation for tomorrow night was an overwhelming experience. You also got the sense of how so many people’s identities and destinies were/are tied to the value of the UFC and the stars it has created.

 I skipped out on the autograph signing and satellite interview sessions and went to grab a drink with an old college friend and his friends. We had dinner at The Academy, an upscale fine-dining restaurant where you can bring your own wine. Ben bought a nice Shiraz that went will with the mussels I ordered. The joint was packed with vibrant, cultured and attractive locals.  

As I made it home after a tour of the city, I could not help reflect on the superiority of Montreal in so many aspects of culture. It’s a genuine city, one filled with real people and not the kind of self-absorbed types you meet in Toronto.

I was also had the revelation that although the day had been one of the best and most exciting in a long time, an even better night is coming up with Saturday night’s entertainment. What will happen? We’ll all find out tonight!

That’s right, you heard it here first– I am in Montreal, covering all the action from this landmark UFC event for ESPN.com. The stakes are high for the fighters, but I get to relax and enjoy the slew of media events. Montreal is a fun city to be in and my work combined with the atmosphere really invigorates me.

Headlining the main card are the Anderson Silva versus Thales Leites and Chuck Liddell versus Shogun Rua matches. You can read my analysis of Rua’s chances in my column on ESPN.com.

I felt the tension from travelling melt away as soon as I checked into my hotel. Stay tuned. This is going to be a weekend to remember!

“Carlos Condit knows discipline and drive are keys to success in MMA. He’ll soon measure his own against Martin Kampmann.”

 –Brian J. D’Souza, ESPN.com