I may have missed some more recent (late 2023-24) declarations, so let me know if I should add anything I've missed.
Stugotz personal record book. Sorry if the links are expired on some things. They're old.
[Time Stamps] Started to use them in late 2019. They may not be exact based on what podcast app or service you use. But they'll be close.
I DIDN'T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS:

FOOTBALL

(1) UCF is the 2017-2018 national champion.
(2) If Kirk Cousins goes to the Jaguars and not the Jets, no championship he wins will count in the personal record book.
Note (2)(a): Still pending sort of since Kirk is with the Vikings now – possible in future he could go to Jags.
(3) Eli manning has 1 ring. He doesnt get one for throwing a ball into David Tyree's face / Tyree getting a football stuck in his helmet.
(4) Carson Wentz has a Super Bowl 52 ring.
Note (4)(a): Foles does not have a Super Bowl 52 ring.
(5) The Raiders defeated the Patriots in their divisional playoff matchup in 2002 (Tuck Rule game), and then would defeat the Rams in Super Bowl 36.
Note (5)(a): In this scenario also, Bill Belichick was also "fired and looking for a job" after the Tuck Rule game and has 0 rings.
(6) If the 2017 Patriots won Super Bowl 52, James Harrison would not have a ring (Patriots lost to Eagles).
(7) Peyton Manning has one ring (Broncos ring does not count).
(8) Peyton Manning must give such ring he lost (above) to Von Miller, who thus has 2 rings.
(9) Aaron Rodgers can have all the rings he wants for keeping all of central Wisconsin employed.
(10) Brian Billick has 0 rings (2000 Ravens Super Bowl) because that defense carried him.
(11) Tony Boselli is a Hall of Famer.
(12) Tarik Cohen is an honorary Jew.
(13) JuJu Smith-Schuster is also an honorary Jew. L'Chaim.
(14) Drew brees has three rings for winning the super bowl for the city of New Orleans.
Note (14)(a): There was discussion on this where the number started at three, went up to five, came down to two, but it ended up at three.
(15) Mike McCarthy has no Super Bowl rings.
Note(15)(a): Dan also has this in his record book, and it is the first entry into the Le Batard Personal Record Book.
Note 15(b): In fact, McCarthy has -3 (Negative three) rings.
(16) Any Super Bowl rings Antonio Brown gets with the Patriots will not count in the Stugotz personal record book (9/9 Weekend Observations National Hour 2).
(17) Ohio State's 76 to 5 victory over Miami (Ohio) on 9/21/19 does not count.
(18) Due to Bill Belichick's 219 wins with Tom Brady, Bill's week 7 2023 victory over the Bills was actually his 81st victory and not his 300th victory.
(19) The 2002-03 Miami Hurricanes actually won the Fiesta Bowl/BCS National Championship game against Ohio State.
(20) If JJ Watt joins the Texans for the 2024 season or later on, none of the Super Bowl rings will count in Stugotz's personal record book

BASKETBALL

Kevin Durant
(1) If Westbrook wins a championship and beats Kevin Durant along the way in the playoffs, Westbrook will have won 2 championship rings.
(2) "STRAP IT ON BOYS, GONNA TAKE YA FOR A RIDE:"
Kevin Durant has 0 rings (Zero rings)
Kevin Durant has -1 rings (Negative 1 rings).
Kevin Durant has -4 rings (Negative 4) (As of 4/11/18)
Note (2)(a): This number is subject to change based on Stugotz altering rings to the "-4" current total. Specifically as seen recently when Stugotz adjusted the number from (i) 0 rings to (ii) -1 rings to (iii) -4 rings.
Note (2)(b): Here is a tweet transcript of the conversation where this was discovered.
Archive link
(3) If Kevin Durant wins an NBA title for the NY Knicks, he will gain 11 rings.
Note (3)(a): As seen above in "(2)," Kevin Durant has -4 rings.
Note (3)(b): [Math] If Durant were to remain at -4 rings, and subsequently win an NBA title for the Knicks, he will have 7 rings total. This was specifically stated (-4 + 11 = 7), and a question about a non-specifically stated Personal Record Book entry is posed below in "Note (3)(c)(i)."
Note (3)(c): If the Golden State Warriors had won a championship playing 3 on 5 with Kevin Durant, Kevin Durant would have 1 ring.
Note (3)(c)(i): [Confusion] I am unsure if "Note(3)(c)" means he would gain +1 ring, and therefore be "up" to -3 rings total. Possibly, Stugotz means if the Golden State Warriors had won a championship 3 on 5 with Durant, Kevin Durant would be at +1 rings total (Positive 1 rings).
(4) Kevin Durant's dagger in Game 3 did not count, because according to Stugotz, none of Durant's stats count. KD's official statline last night was 0/0/0 and the Cavs blew the Warriors out by 40.
(5) Anything Kevin Durant has done with the Warriors so far is not in Stugotz' personal record scroll.
Note (5)(a): Stugotz did not take his feathered pen and write anything in his scroll (King Roy approves).
(6) Westbrook has ALL of KD's rings.
(7) For every time KD says he doesn't give a BLEEP, Stugotz adds 2 "I do give a BLEEPS" in the personal record book.
(8) Per Dan, speaking on Stugotz' behalf, Kevin Durant has no Olympic Gold Medals (9/18/19 National Hour 1 @ 00:07:50).
Michael Jordan
(1) Jordan has 9 rings because:
(a) The Rockets have to give their 2 rings from 1994 and 1995 to Jordan (+2); and
(b) The Bulls would have won the 1999 Finals over the Spurs if Jordan didn't retire (+1; 9 total).
Note (1)(a-b)(i): Put LeBron's rings in a box and put Jordan's rings in a box. Jordan is +6 by the way over LeBron box-minus, despite box-minus sounding like a dumb stat.
(2) Michael Jordan was suspended for 2 years for gambling (Said 4/25/18 Hour 2, 14:30 in podcast).
Note 2(a): HOWEVER, MJ still has 9 rings as see above in (1)(a) and (1)(b).
(3) Any game Michael Jordan played wearing the uniform #45 does not count.
LeBron James
(1) If LeBron James goes to the Golden State Warriors, every Championship he wins will result in a deduction of 2 previously won championships.
(2) The Miami Heat LeBron teams were the GREATEST teams in the history of sports (5/7/18 Local Hour).
(3) The Miami Heat LeBron teams were also the MOST INTERESTING teams in the history of sports.
(4) If, after the 2018 NBA Playoffs:
(a) LeBron does not make it to the finals and the Celtics do; and
(b) The Houston Rockets do not make it to the finals and the Warriors do; and
(c) LeBron goes to the Houston Rockets for the next season, THEN
LeBron is allowed to win rings that count in Stu's personal record book.
Note (4)(a-c)(i): HOWEVER, Harden & Chris Paul - if they remain on the Rockets with LeBron on the team - are not allowed to have any of the rings won with LeBron count in Stu's personal record book.
Note 4(a-c)(ii): To quote the big man Stu (with Dan agreeing of course), "Do it on your own” (Dan agrees here).
(5) If LeBron wins an NBA Championship with the 2018 Lakers roster (as of 7/23/18), then that wins counts for 6 rings.
Note (5)(a): Thus LeBron would have 9 rings.
Kyrie Irving
(1) Kyrie Irving hit one of the biggest shots in NBA Finals History, but was only in that position because of LeBron James. Kyrie Irving, did hit one of the biggest shots in NBA Finals history that won everyone on that team a Ring, except for you (Kyrie). (3/9/20 Hour #3; Google Podcast @ 07:00).
Note (1)(a): Stugotz: "A little revision to the uhhh Stugotz Personal Record Book that I'll come around to writing...or Mike will." I'M WRITING IT YOU IDIOT MORON JACKAL
Misc. Basketball
(1) The Houston Rockets have 0 (Zero) NBA Championship victories.
Note (1)(a): See "Michael Jordan (1)(a)" for reasoning.
Note (1)(a)(i): [Restated Reasoning] Michael Jordan is actually in possession of those 1994 and 1995 Rockets rings because Michael Jordan would have won those championships if he stayed in Chicago.
Note(1)(b): [CONFLICTING HOT TAKE] Stugotz has also said Jordan didn't get the Rockets' rings because he was actually suspended for gambling.
Note (1)(b)(i) NEEDS CLARIFICATION PLEASE. Stugotz keeps going back and forth. In "Michael Jordan Note 1(a)," the opposite of "Miscellaneous Basketball Note (1)(b) is stated because he has gone back and forth on this issue.
(2) Steve Kerr has no rings as a coach. In fact, he has never even coached a game.
(3) Mychal Thompson (Klay's dad) has no rings. (Said on Zach Harper podcast).
(4) Clyde Drexler no rings (Said on Zach Harper podcast).
(5) Giannis Antetekoumpo is pronounced Yani Adababoombo.
(6) As long as James Harden has his beard, he cannot win any championships.
Note (6)(a): If the Rockets win a ring, then the ring goes to the beard.
(7) Lamarcus Aldridge cost the Spurs game 2 of the 2017 Western Conference Semifinals, even though they won.
(8) If the Sixers happen to win a championship, Sam Hinkie gets a ring.
(9) Chris Paul has NOT made a Western Conference Final since he had to join the Rockets to do so.
(10) Michael Jordan winning the NBA Finals in 1999 also means that Tim Duncan only has 4 rings instead of 5 rings.
(11) The Warriors only have 1 ring
Note (11)(a): Durant still has -4.
(12) Boogie Cousins cannot win a NBA Championship and have it count if he does so with the Warriors.
(13) Billy Donovan was the NBA Coach of the Year in 2017 (12/13/17 @ 28:10 Hour 1).
Note (13)(a): The Thunder blowing the 3-1 lead to the Warriors that year had nothing to do with Donovan. It was Durant's fault.
(14) The OKC Thunder actually did win the WCF against the Warriors in 2017 when up 3-1.
Note (14)(a): This does not apply to Durant though.
Note (14)(b): The Thunder also beat whoever they would have played in the Finals. Durant still no ring.
(15) Embiid has his 2023 MVP taken away and given to Jimmy Butler.
(16) Caitlin Clark's NCAA all-time scoring record still belongs to Pistol Pete because unlike Pistol Pete, Caitlin didn't do it in 3 years and she did it with a 3 point line.

BASEBALL

Babe Ruth
(1) Babe Ruth is black.
(2) Babe Ruth never hit a baseball. Not once.
(3) Babe Ruth is the number two black baseball player of all time behind Barry Larkin.
(4) Babe Ruth is NOT a top 20 Baseball player of all time. He's a pitcher.
Note (4)(a): However This is somewhat confusing/interesting because:
(i) Stugotz has said "Babe Ruth is the number two black baseball player of all time behind Barry Larkin; and"
(ii) This MUST mean Stugotz can only have 1 black player in his top 20 Baseball players of all time Barry Larkin; because
(iii) The only way this can work logically is if in the list of greatest players #1 through #20, only Barry Larkin is on the latter top #1 through #20 list. I would like some clarification on if he wishes to change this take/record.
(5) Babe Ruth is also not a top 20 pitcher of all time.
Misc. Baseball
(1) Stugotz has declared that in his personal record book, Baseball no longer allows pitchers to hit (Stated on 05/03/2018 @ 12:38:52 P.M).
Note (1)(a): Excludes Bartolo Colon, and Shohei Ohtani.
Note (1)(b): You are either a pitcher or a hitter. Not both.
(2) If the Dodgers won the 2017 World Series Clayton Kershaw would not have had a ring.
(3) Wade Boggs DOES have a ring because he rode around on a horse with a beer afterward.
(4) Clayton Kershaw did not win an MVP award because the award for pitchers was already given, the CY Young award.
(5) Miami beat LSU in the 1996 College Baseball World Series.
(6) The 1986 NY Mets did not win the World Series against the Boston Red Sox.
Note (6)(a): This "pains" Stugotz.
(7) The Red Sox retroactively winning the 1986 World Series may result in taking a ring away from the Mets.
Note (7)(a): Stugotz has to think about it though, he's not sure yet.
(8) Bryce Harper did not win the 2018 home run derby because he cheated.
(9) Kershaw's Earned Ring Average (ERA) is 0.00.
(10) Mike Minor (Rangers Pitcher) does not have 200 strikeouts in 2019. He's at 199 (National Hour 2, 10 mins 40 seconds in).
Note (10)(a): Chris agrees too. And who really cares (15% on poll do care).
(11) The 2020-2021 Mets, during the Coronavirus outbreak, are 0-3 and Jacob deGrom is somehow 0-1 with a 0.00 ERA and 1 complete game. The deGrominator. (Google Podcast 3/30 Hour #3 @ 19:20)

HOCKEY

(1) Ray Bourque doesn't have a ring.
(2) Alex Ovechkin may or may not have won the Stanley Cup against the Vegas Golden Knights.
Note (2)(a): "I mean he beat an expansion team . . . bunch of players nobody wanted" (We get the sense that Dan agrees).

TENNIS

(1) If anyone wins a major in Female Tennis without Serena Williams playing, it does not count and they have 0 rings.
(2) If Maria Sharapova wins a grand slam in which Serena isnt competing it doesnt count.

GOLF

(1) If Jason Day wins the 2018 Masters, it counts as an American winning (as far as bets are concerned).
(2) Vijay Singh did not play in the 2018 Masters.
(3) Steph Curry did not win the 2023 American Century Celebrity Golf Championship Tournament . Mardy Fish was the real winner.

SOCCER

(1) Lionel Messi is stripped of all his achievements for using HGH. He never played soccer. He is still 5'1". "Fraud."
(2) Soccer is dead.

NCAA DIVISION 1 WOMEN'S LACROSSE

(1) Rachel has more rings than Kevin Durant

MISCELLANEOUS

(1) Aqua?
(2) Rings plus-minus is the only way to measure greatness.
(3) The HBO Andre the Giant film was good, not great, and Stugotz didn’t learn anything.
(4) Benoit Lecomte (guy they interviewed) can not and will not swim from San Francisco to Tokyo in the personal record book because he is most likely taking a dip for a few minutes then coming back on the boat and enjoying some filet mignon by the pool.
Note (4)(a): "Do it without a yacht. And how about ya do it without the little magnetic field around you that keeps sharks away. How bout that. Allows dolphins through though? Anyway.."
(5) Justify (the Horse) only has a double crown.
Note (5)(a): This is the first ever double crown.
(6) Tango and Cash is in the action movie Hall of Fame. and Cliffhanger has the greatest 5 minute intro of any movie of all time.
(7) Maximum Security (a Horse) won the 2019 Kentucky Derby.
(8) Fruit Stripes Gum is NOT a 1st Ballot Hall of Famer in Stu's "Gum Hall of Fame." (08/12/2019 Hour 2 @ 15:25).
Note (8)(a): "It loses it's flavor so quickly"
Note (8)(b): Also, "[...] Bazooka...1st Ballot Hall of Famer." Also, "Big League Chew..1st Ballot."
(9) Chris Cote owns all intellectual property rights to the "Friends" (TV Show) Movie with a misleading preview that eventually has a climax leading to an intense murder mystery. (10/29/19 Hour #2 @ 03:15).
Note (9)(a): "If they make this without crediting Cote, they're stealing it."
(10) That guy killed the pigeon (12/10 Hour 3 @ 08:20).
(11) Billy owns the record for world's longest Plank (2/25, Hour #3; Google Podcast @ 30:55).
Note (11)(a): Possibly in just the Non-Marine edition.
(12) Zach Buchanan won a Pulitzer Prize for his story on the Madison Bumgarner / Mason Saunders rodeo fiasco (2/28/20 Hour #2; Google Podcasts @ 21:35).
(13) Findlay the Golden retriever holds the Stu Gotz Personal Record Book record for most tennis balls held in a mouth at one time by a dog at 6 (2/11/2020)
(14) Ace Davis (The kid who "proved" Tom Brady was cheating with science) and his fathefamily are heroes (4/1 Hour #3; Google Podcast @ 18:50).
(15) Dan did NOT do more push-ups than Domonique Foxworth (Dan did push-ups on a non-linear platform) (4/28/2020 Hour # 1).

SPORTS MEDIA DREAM TEAM™

Sourced from Google Podcast; 05/06/2020, Hour 2 @ 09:00
(Head Coach) Ernie Johnson - "When you look over to the bench, what you need is someone to stand tall, someone who is confident, someone who is competent, someone who has all the credibility -soaked in credibility - when you have the Head Coach of the Sports Media Dream Team."
(1; Point Guard) Mike Greenberg - "Doesn't really want to answer the big questions, but has no problem distributing those questions to other people who are happy to answer them."
(2; Shooting Guard) Stephen A. Smith - "Never met a topic he doesn't like. Short memory, doesn't care, Greeny could throw him anything and Stephen A. is gonna run with it even if he knows nothing about the topic. That is how it works. Stephen A. is the greatest of all time."
(3; Small Forward) Chris Fowler - "A do it all guy. Studio show? Great. Play by Play? Even better. Can do everything."
(4; Small Forward Replacement) Maria Taylor) - "Need Play by Play, need Sideline, need Studio Host - she can do it all"
(5; Power Forward) Dianna Russini - "You need some crazy, some don't mess with us, someone to tear someone's head off in the event that they come after one of us."
(6; Power Forward Replacement) PFT Commenter - "He just comes in and acts crazy, throws his arms and hair around, and give ya 5 to 10 really crazy minutes."
(7; In honor of the Chicago Bulls, Stugotz needed a Wennington, a Purdue) Scott Van Pelt - Dan debated whether or not SVP should be on the Sports Media Dream Team™. That's what he's doing.
(8; Bench Player w/ No Position Specified) Doris Burke
(9) Teased...

I’ll try to keep this short as I can, I’ve made several posts over the years. I’m just feeling defeated and confused.
I’m currently a 25(M), and had a microdiscectomy on L5-S1 for a 20mm+ herniation (I don’t remember the exact size) in June 2022. Prior to that I was extremely active, I played college water polo up through the December 2021 season. Swimming for cardio is something I’ve done all my life and want to continue, I hate running.
I have a hard time remembering what the pain was like back in February 2022, but it must have been pretty bad since I wasn’t able to exercise (I have a high pain tolerance).
Post surgery was fine, I started walking again, getting back to work and normal daily activities such as running errands. Starting PT after 6 weeks (July 2022) and that was a brutal process I was so stiff and tight. I’ve never been very flexible.
The following 6-7 months, I solely did PT, stretched, and walked every day. Got to where I’d go for 4-5 mile walks at a 16 min pace. In February 2023 I began lap swimming again, this time I didn’t do flip turns, decided I’d just do touch turns to not put my back in a flipping motion. I started very slow and just did about 20 laps/500 yards (which is nothing compared to what I would do in the past).
From February 2023 – June 2023 I just slowly eased into swimming, got back to swimming 2,500+ yards. I also began lifting again, doing light machines and light weights. Did weight training at my PT office to make sure I was doing things correctly.
June 2023 – December 2023 I did well, I was swimming and lifting 4-5x a week. I might have been overdoing it but I felt fine. I’d do 30+ mins of pt warm up and stretches before swimming to make sure I was warm, then would do some lifting after I swam. I was doing some free weight stuff (bad idea) and was swimming fast again. I felt good and I felt like I wanted to start training again to play competitive water polo again.
December 2023 – was doing some light 10lb RDLs that I’d learned at PT. Hadn’t done them in a while and wanted to change it up for my hamstrings. After one set I felt some pain and discomfort in my back, something I hadn’t felt in a while and knew something was wrong. I stopped Immediately.
Went to the Dr. and got another MRI. New MRI shows disc herniation of 6mm at L5-S1 significantly smaller than the original. My surgeon told me it wasn’t surgery worthy and that it wasn’t compressing my nerve, and I don’t have much pain so I agree. He said many people can live with them, and they don’t even know, but I need to listen to my body and modify etc.
January 2024 – Since then I went back to PT, tried to come up with a good game plan for safe forms of exercising. It was hard to accept, but I decided I’d stop trying to push playing competitive water polo again for health reasons. I started slow again, swimming 3 times a week very slow and building up laps every week. I now do light machines to keep myself tone, that’s all I need and am happy with.
March 2024 - I got back to swimming 4x a week at a slower pace, I can maintain good form but still get winded. And I’ve been lifting 4x a week, all somewhat light weight all on machines. My feet are grounded, and my back or chest is against padding for support. Still do PT warm up stuff ahead of time, and stretch and roll out my glutes, hamstrings, and hip flexors after.
April 2024 - I felt pretty good, just general stiffness when I wake up sometimes, and some days I get some achiness in my lower back and glut area but I accept that’s normal.
PT thinks my gluts and hip flexors are weak and my backs compensating for them. I guess I trusted them and agreed to do what thy said. But they started having me do back squats which made me nervous but felt fine. I started doing those several times a week. Then they had me start do incorporate hip trusts for my gluts, either with the barbell on my waist or using a machine at the gym. Then they wanted me to start doing weighted RDLs again and that’s where I drew the line. I was confused how if that’s how I hurt it in December then why would I do it again. They tell me I can do anything as long as I have good form, but I’d rather not risk it. They make it seem like I need to do them to strengthen my muscles and learn to load my spine again.
The surgeon told me no deadlifts and no hip thrusts. He said goblet squats are fine. It just made me not trust PT anymore. No matter what I tell them they tell me it’s normal and say I just need to get stronger. I felt like since doing some of the leg stuff I was getting stiffer and achier, so I wanted to get a second opinion
May 2024 – My dads good friend is a sports medicine professional, and he referred us to a good doctor he knows/went to school with in my area, he studied medicine at UCLA and works with sports and Olympic teams. I went to visit him to get some clarity on what exercises in the gym are safe for me to do and what to stay away from or maybe a new PT that he trusts. I was shocked when I went last week, he looked at my MRI results and said I have the herniation at L5-S1 and another 5mm herniation at L4-L5 that my surgeon didn’t even mention. The new doctor said I was having muscle atrophy from nerve compression and it could be serious and could need another surgery. He put me on a 6-day steroid pack and said if it relieves my symptoms then there would be some hope without needing another surgery. I have a call with him tomorrow to follow up on how I feel.
I’m confused. I don’t have bad symptoms. I’m stiff and my hamstrings are tight, but they loosen up during the day. I don’t really have any radiating pain down the leg. So, I can’t tell if the steroid even helped because there wasn’t much there to begin with. Over the last 6 days it hasn’t been as achy and tight when I get up in the morning, but honestly, just doing my daily activities such as going to work, walking around, etc. I don’t notice it at all. It’s just when I do certain movements like bend down, or twist a certain way, or lean backwards, then I feel some stiffness and pulling in my lower back and glut, but it doesn’t go down my leg it’s all centralized in my lower back. I don’t feel as achy and stiff so that’s good, but my QL and left glut still are a little achy when I think about it.
I’m just confused and frustrated. My surgeon told me in January there was no nerve compression and didn’t mention the second herniation. But then this new doctor makes it seem very severe and now I’m nervous. I’m frustrated that squat, hip thrusts, etc. have maybe been making things worse and I wonder If I need new imaging to see if they’ve gotten worse over the last 5 months. My dad’s friend who referred us to the new doctor also read my MRI report and said he would agree that if I don’t have that bad symptoms that my results wouldn’t suggest I need another surgery.
As I mentioned, up until a week ago I’ve been swimming 2,500 yards and doing some machine lifting 4x a week. And the symptoms aren’t bad, a little tight when I stretch and warm up, such as getting up off the ground after stretching I’m kind of stiff standing up straight again. Once I swim it loosens up and might get a little tight, but overall feels better after.
Just been a long two years since the surgery, and I don’t want another it was the most depressing thing I’ve ever gone through. All I want is to be able to swim some laps for cardio purposes (which I assume is safe) and then do some light machines at the gym to keep myself tone and have some muscle definition. But I want to know what machines are safe/what types of exercises to stay away from.
I know this is a long read. But any thoughts and Insight would be helpful. Thanks

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weather, web, website, wedding, week, weekend, weekly, weigh, weight, welcome, welfare, well, west, western, wet, what, whatever, wheel, when, whenever, where, whereas, whether, which, while, whisper, white, who, whole, whom, whose, why, wide, widely, widespread, wife, wild, wildlife, will, willing, win, wind, window, wine, wing, winner, winter, wipe, wire, wisdom, wise, wish, with, withdraw, within, without, witness, woman, wonder, wonderful, wood, wooden, word, work, worker, working, workout, workplace, works, workshop, world, worried, worry, worth, would, wound, wrap, write, writer, writing, wrong, yard, yeah, year, yell, yellow, yes, yesterday, yet, yield, you, young, your, yours, yourself, youth, zone.

Hi! Just wanted to thank everyone for all of the support on my last post, the days have been passing by easier since then. 🥹🫶🏻
Day 14 today, my counts started going up a few days ago! Neutrophils pranked me a little (0,00→0,05→0,00→0,02→0,04 today) but otherwise, everything else has been going up pretty well, hemoglobin and platelets especially! Still got pain obviously, and god awful issues with my bowel movements, but I'm managing! Optimistic for once in my life.
I realized that the only people who know my story are my doctors and part of my family. I love reading other people's stories, it makes me feel less alone (feel free to share yours if you want!), so I figured I'd share. I'll keep it brief.
Everything started with a cold that took a suspiciously long time to heal which left me with a really bad cough (that took 3 months to go away, my doctors tried everything 😭). Tiredness (5h naps during the day wouldn't cut it) turned into faiting episodes. Wounds wouldn't heal, bruises would appear. Swollen lymph nodes and gums. My last memory before getting the blood tests that changed my life was helping kindergartners (Vocational HS section where I'm basically learning to be a daycare teacher) explore a forest. In heels, without water and with no food in my stomach... Man, I really thought I could do anything. Sweet memory I cherish though.
After I got a few blood tests (I only remember my iron being 4x the amount it should've been, WBC 24k + 60% blasts) done we got a call from the lab to go to the hospital and re-do them. The hospital wouldn't re-do them because they said the results are clear, I've leukemia. The poor doctor started crying. I remember my reaction, “Leukemia? But I'm only 16.” (And now I'm turning 17 at the end of the month, how time flies) Saw a pediatric onco-hematologist on Monday. Said it looked like AML (later on found out it's "high risk, M4" but I don't exactly know what that entails) there's treatment available, said my dad can't stay as my caretaker (which I didn't understand then but I thank her for now), and then she left. She's not exactly very talkative...
Next day I got a portacath, and started investigations pre-chemo. Thankfully everything looked fine, hadn't spread to my brain, my lungs and heart were fine, basically everything was okay otherwise. Started chemo. Didn't go into remission after induction (I think I was at around 11% blasts) but went into full remission after second round. Two more rounds of chemo, then a SCT with my mom as the donor.
Now I'm looking forward to the future (although I'm also terrified of it and of the long term effects that I know I'll have to deal with). If everything goes well, my doctors have said I could maybe return to school at the start of September, which would be perfect for me since that's when the school year starts. It's genuinely my only wish. I value school so much, I know it seems ridiculous, but I studied a lot, got pretty good grades, even went to the national English olympics in 9th grade. My teachers have been very understanding too. I hope I'll be able to return, but I'll do whatever my doctors say. I don't want to set my expectations too high. I miss my teachers a lot. Also my cat, but she's having fun on the countryside! Meet Șoarec
The only thing I haven't been able to cope with is the less understanding people, haha. It really be your own family sometimes. Mom is my caretaker and although she's super sweet, she can be very rude about my pain, and pressuring me to eat/drink. Dad told me “God punished me and that's why I got leukemia” which left me stunned, I've been thinking about that for a month. Also the occasional “Oh, what's leukemia? Is it like, gamer over for you?” or “RIP” reaction when I tell someone my diagnosis. I'm gonna work these issues out in therapy though...
Hope this isn't too long or trauma-dumpy haha! Just wanted to share, this community has been very kind & helpful and I definitely wish I would've joined sooner.

in three weeks, T has helped me put on so much muscle i managed to outgrow a brand new binder that i had purchased to size up to begin with and holy shit the pain of wearing a too-small binder for a full work shift fucked me up. do not try to push through wearing a binder if it feels wrong.
for context, before T, i was really underweight and i couldn't outpace my fast metabolism to gain any meaningful weight. i'm 5'5" and bounced between 100-105lbs and i was strong for my size but that's not saying much versus the general male population. this is where i'd say a huge majority of my dysphoria lived, having narrow shoulders, the little fat i had all being at my hips, people assuming i'm too weak for even basic tasks. so at the start of this year, i really put my nose to the grindstone and have been practicing muay thai and weight-lifting multiple times a week like i used to pre-pandemic. i was doing okay at it! i'm never going to the olympics but i was feeling good.
and then i started T in february. my appetite has exploded and i've been putting away over 2300 calories per day just to not feel so goddamn hungry. i've been focusing on high protein foods and trying to drink a quart of milk a day and two protein shakes. it's also given me more energy and confidence to go workout and practice even if i'm not feeling 100% mentally up to it.
so, between all the food and the working out, i've managed to put on 20lbs of mostly muscle in 3 months and holy shit the difference is real. T is putting a majority of it on my upper body. but then also i don't get as cold as easily, i have more energy all the time, my posture is better, my clothes fit better, this specific dysphoria is evaporating slowly and holy shit i feel alive and present. but there's a catch.
none of my fucking binders fit. at first, say around late-march, i got an inkling my flavnt half-binders were too small. something just felt off cause i can usually forget they're on but i was just so aware of them. so i stopped wearing them and i sized up and bought a new one like 3 weeks ago. it fit and felt great, back to normal i thought. i wear my binders maybe 2-3 times a week normally, but last week i had really physically active work so i didn't wear it until friday with nothing but a t-shirt over it. and by the end of the day i was fucking suffering. i had shooting pains when i moved any part of my upper body. i was getting those cramps you get when running along your ribs, while standing still. i couldn't take it off my entire 8 hr shift + 45 min commute, until i got to my girlfriend's place. i spent the rest of the night switching between curling up into a ball or doing any stretch i could think of to get away from the pain, my girlfriend also gave me a massage but the pain stayed just as bad the entire time, it was constant. it felt like a stomach ache, chest pains, running cramps, and period cramps all at the same time. breathing was like i'd been holding my breath underwater for ages and couldn't catch it again. it went on all night until i took an ibuprofen and got very high, then it finally eased. when i was smoking, i had a hacking coughing fit that i think shook up my lungs and cleared me out, and i also had a laughing fit when i was high and watching youtube that also definitely did something to help in terms of muscle pain. it was the opposite of laughing until you're sore lmao. i'm okay now after a weekend of free-balling it with absolutely no sports bras or any compression and doing some yoga to stretch it out, but christ that was so much pain i was freaked out. and i have a decent pain tolerance! i've been hit by 2 cars, i severed a finger once, i've done combat sports on and off my whole life! i'm never making that mistake again.
the night i was rolling around in pain, my girlfriend wanted to check something. i just happened to have my rib and chest measurements in my phone from when i bought the new binder, so my girlfriend measured me again to check to see just how badly i fucked up, and i went from being 27" around my ribs to being 32" (i'm gonna make these lats into wings) and my chest went from 31" to being 34". my girlfriend just laughed and she just said "you're bulking up too much babe, it's a good problem to have"

The god of mischeif and pain appeara before you and offers you a choice between 2 powers.
The 1st power is Invisibility.
How it works: You can become invisible for up to 10 minutes a day. Essentially think like a battery that is recharged everyday at 12am. The time coast of your powers (pacific time, eastern time etc) will permanently be the time coast of when you initially gain the power, meaning even if you move across the world your powers still follow the clock of where you initially acquired them. The duration will never increase or decrease. You become completely transparent visually (even your clothes). You still make normal noise though. You cannot make anyone or anything else invisible (except clothes directly touching your skin).
The drawback: You are required to use all 10 minutes of your power everyday ( doesnt have to be consecutively, but the effect must remain active for at least 30 seconds at a time). Anytime you're discovered, one of your limbs or organs will randomly explode. Like if you run into someone and they realize you're there, your hand might explode. Or maybe your kidney. You might be able to survive the 1st time depending on which llimb it is, but you'll never know which. The explosion to your internal organs is contained within your body, but the external explosion to your limbs will vary in size with the strongest explosion possible being a hand grenade in scale. Anytime your presence is confirmed to be detected by anyone, the effect will activate. If someone is suspicious but not sure the effect won't happen. The effect will also activate if you haven't used the full 10 minutes by 11:59pm. The explosion itself cannot harm others, but the effect of the explosion can (meaning if your arm explodes, there's the possibility one of the bones goes flying into someone skull). The explosion itself can also harm other parts of your body but would be centered on whatever limb is chosen.
The 2nd power is Flight.
How it works: You can fly similar to superman. No wings required. Your flying is tied to your stamina, meaning your can fly longer, faster and higher the more you exercise. Your top flight speed is equivalent to your top running speed. You are not immune to the effects of weather or oxygen, meaning you'll have trouble breathing and feel extreme cold the higher you go. You can only carry people with you if you are physically strong enough. Your clothes and belongings still weigh you down. Running out of stamina mid flight means you'll succumb to the effects of gravity.
The drawback: Once a month, you have to spend 7 consecutive days running from a mercenary. If they touch you anywhere on your body (direct contact with your skin or flesh), you will lose your powers, 90% of your stamina and your lifespan will be shortened by 30 years. You can't come into direct contact with them. You can't harm them in any way (meaning you can't use any weapons or projectiles to harm them from a distance either). In terms of physically, they never run out of stamina and have super strength ,(eqyivalent to captain america) but their speed is equivalent to someone competing in the Olympic track team. They never sleep. You cannot trap them either (if your actions leads them into some trap that incapacitates them, they will teleport within 10 meters of you fully healed. If that's in the air, they will safely teleport to the nearest available solid ground.) After 7 days if they haven't caught you, they'll leave only for the process to start again next month. If you're caught, they'll never appear again. You don't know when the 7 days starts or ends. Their intelligence is around 160 IQ. They can choose to hunt you however they prefer (meaning they can spend a few days just stalking you without letting their presence known, which means it's possible you won't know the 7 days had started already).
Failure to choose one option results in a prolonged and painful death.

Olympic Triathlon Tips
I (28 male) am participating in my first triathlon in a week’s time and would welcome any tips to get through it (and enjoy it!).
Due to work and playing other sports competitively my training never really got going so I’ve done maybe 2 weeks of ‘training’. I have managed to fit in a few brick runs to get used to the feeling of getting off the bike.
Current times for each section, and I guess my targets, are: Swim (1.5km) - 30-34 mins.. pain points here are breathing consistently, after a while I’ll find myself coming up/out of the water.
Cycle (40km) - 1:30-1:45.. feel relatively comfortable on the bike but I don’t have a lot of experience with inclines so any tips on going uphill for a sustained period would be great.
Run (10km) - 40-45mins.. I’m a confident runner although I do expect this to be tricky and so would aim for being within an hour on the day.

I started running last year and through overuse (I’m sure) developed a stress fracture in my right knee. I stopped running completely for approx 4 months and took up cycling and swimming. Had physio, built up leg strength in gym. I then slowly reintroduced running, made sure I had the correct footwear, correct warm ups and cool downs, shorter strides etc and was managing it.
I then did an Olympic triathlon 1 week ago (10k run) and my knee was ok on the run and. 3 days after the tri the pain got gradually worse and is possibly the worst it’s ever been now. I haven’t run since.
Saw a consultant and his view is that it will just take time to heal. Is there really nothing that can be done? I have been so patient and feel like 8 months after the initial injury I shouldn’t have this level of pain? It’s really getting me down
I’m 29, healthy weight, BMI 20, lead an active and healthy lifestyle, eat ‘cleanly’ inc meat and dairy

Hi guys, I can't remember if I posted in this sub or olympic NP but I am disabled and had an entire trip planned there before I broke my leg again (bone cancer survivor, if you want to know more my entire story is available elsewhere and this isn't the place for that, you can dm me). I was devastated because we were only a few weeks out from the trip, had everything planned (have been planning for 2 years) and ready and we (my boyfriend and i) were so excited. Every time I've broken my endoprosthesis (2x now) it takes about a year to heal until I can walk without crutches again, and even then it's difficult. I actually went to Yellowstone on crutches and had a wonderful time, my cousin lives in Bozeman and it was truly magical, even if I could only see most of it from the car. The Rangers at old faithful were so so helpful and lovely and helped me with a wheelchair and everything. I live in Indiana, and the thought of missing another summer because of my disability and pain makes me super depressed, I feel like my life is passing me by and I'm missing out on dreams over and over again because of stupid cancer even though it's been removed for 3 years now. But I should be in a little less pain in about a month. I'm a pro on crutches, like up and down stairs forwards and backwards, and can probably crutch faster than most people can walk 🤣 So a very long winded question but, what's in driving distance? Any recommendations on disability-friendly places to stay? I searched voyageurs on air b&b and as soon as I put on a disability filter my search results went to 0. I ironically have a little disabled dog too lol. I worry about him when we're gone but he's well enough for some long car rides. So driving distance would be awesome. I actually live about 15 min from Indiana dunes, and I might be a pro at crutches but not sand dune pro lmao. And I grew up in Michigan, so I've hit most of those.
Really any advice on some beautiful places to see would be wonderful. I've put off my dreams long enough, I may not be able to do olympic this year but, God damn it, I'm not waiting around anymore.
Thanks for reading my entirely too long post and I hope it gets approved. 🙏

Ok so rn im rocovering from an injury, (long head of the biceps tendon and pattelar tendon pain), i've beed a wannabe powerlifter for like 2 years before that so i have some basic strength. And after my knee pain is gone i wanna start olympic lifting, my plan for it is 6x a week weight training including some variations of the big lifts, like clean pull, snatch pull, muscle clean, overhead squat, back squats, front squats, and some regular hypertrophy accessories, and additional to that i wanna do some work like plyometrics, sprinting and regular running 3 times a week, to use the body more, and start developing some explosive power while getting the hang of the technique with oly lifts. So is it a good idea? i would be really happy to hear some tips from u guys, thanks in advance!!!

Race Information

• Name: Eugene Marathon.
• Date: Sunday April 28, 2024
• Distance: 26.2 miles
• Location: Eugene, OR
• Time: 03:56:xx
• Elevation: 538 ft
• Gear: Adidas Adios Pro 3 Red

Goals

Goal	Description	Completed?
A	Sub 4:05 (nominal BQ)	yes
B	Sub 4:00	yes
C	Sub 3:55 (BQ with really solid cushion)	no
D	Sub 3:50	no
E	Sub 3:48 (AG 70%)	no

Splits

Split	Time
1	08:45
2	08:37
3	08:38
4	08:37
5	08:37
6	08:35
7	08:34
8	08:45
9	09:07
10	08:46
11	08:50
12	08:37
13	08:32
14	08:47
15	08:48
16	08:55
17	08:50
18	08:50
19	08:57
20	09:04
21	09:05
22	09:23
23	09:38
24	09:42
25	10:01
26	09:36
.37	09:20

Background

After a 30-year hiatus, I began running again in January 2022. In November 2023, I ran the NYC Marathon, my first, with a time of 4:14:xx. Eugene was my second marathon, and I sought to attain at least a nominal BQ with a time of 4:05. Beyond that, I hoped to break 4 hours. With 3:55 I would have a comfortable cushion of 10 minutes for going to Boston. Based on recent races, I should have been able to do even better - in 10Ks in January (Classics By The Sea in Florida, 48:xx) and February (Manhattan 10K, 49:xx), as well as in the NYC Half in March (1:49), I had AG scores of over 70. On that basis (as well as the prediction from the Runanalyze site), a time of 3:48 was possible.

Training

I used the Runna app to set up a 16-week structured training program which maxed out at about 49 miles/week with several long runs of 21 miles. It went well, though I had to adjust it to accommodate other races and work obligations and I found that the target paces for the speed work were really challenging. The program included a three-week taper which felt a little long to me. Although I intended to include strength work in my training, this did not happen.

Pre-race

We flew across the country Friday evening for the Sunday race and spent Saturday reconnecting with a series of old friends. This was really nice, and necessarily took my focus off of the marathon. The travel and socializing left me a little sleep-deprived Sunday morning, but no regrets. I woke about three hours before the race, had some beet juice, coffee, a half bagel, and a banana. The weather was perfect, mid to high 40s and a little overcast.
I checked my bag, hit the porta-potty, and got to the start with about 30 mins to spare. I found the 3:50 pacer, Keith, a sharp runner who had been pacing marathons on the West Coast every week for the last month or so. When I told Keith that I was 67 and that this was only my second marathon, he advised me to run with the 3:55 or 4:00 pacers but I (of course) did not listen. I had my first Maurten gel and a few swigs of Maurten 160 and we were off.

Race

The first few miles were fairly crowded but manageable. I started a little fast, but not over the top, and enjoyed the chatter with those around me. I ran at a pretty consistent pace for most of the race - through 30K, all of my 5K splits were between 26:45 and 27:30, close enough to Keith so that I could appreciate his smart tangents on the somewhat windy course. I was having a great time, high fiving other runners and the crowd, and singing snippets of songs when the mood struck. My biggest problem through mile 20 was my music - I had curated three separate playlists for the race (Act I - Take it easy, Act II - Maintain and mix it up, Act III - You got this. Finish strong), but only the second loaded properly on my Garmin. I sipped Maurten gel from a gel flask every few miles and sucked down a caffeinated gel at about mile 19. I slowed down gradually beginning at about mile 20, and by mile 23 or so I was periodically admonishing myself aloud "come ON x." But I was not so much deep in the pain cave as looking inside it.
In the last few miles of my first marathon, I was fighting for each tenth of a mile; here, the unit, the goal, was a half mile. At mile 23, there were 6 of these left, plus the final stretch at Hayward Field. I kept on thinking about, visualizing, the finish, but I could no longer even imagine a sprint.
Finally the field came into view, I turned and hit the track, and gave it my all. The video shows that my cadence is quick, but my strides are short, Fred Flintstone like, as this was all that I could manage with the soreness in my glutes and hips. I hit the finish and pumped my arms, then listed a bit to port in a way not unreminiscent of Olympic pioneer Gabriela Andersen-Schiess. Three medics came up to me, but I shook them off with fist bumps and staggered off towards the bag check.

Lessons

As an older white male, I've been given breaks throughout my life because of how I look, how I seem, and how I talk. This privilege has helped me to transcend a rough family background and my first-generation status to go on to earn a PhD and have a successful career and a great family. I have been, in short, very fortunate. Running has reminded me of my good fortune (sometimes with every stride), but these two marathons have given me something more, an appreciation of my own sense of willfulness and determination. Before this race, in the fatigue of the last weeks of my training, I was thinking that this might be, though not my last marathon, my fastest. But I am not done aspiring. Health permitting, I'll be in NYC this Fall, and almost certainly Boston next Spring. And I'll be breathing hard, and occasionally singing.
Made with Strava race report generator. / Written with StackEdit.

I primarily teach a corrective exercise modality called Foundation Training, working with people to overcome pain and mobility issues and enhance performance. I also teach strength training, general movement (rocking, rolling, crawling, squatting, hinging etc) and breathwork (buzzword but I focus on mechanics and biochemistry in relation to pain, performance and state)
I don’t have a PT cert outside of the CFSC level one cert and personal experience. I have trained with a legendary strength coach the last three years, which has been an incredibly learning experience as well reaffirming my approach.
My question is what education is relevant to this field? So many educated people tell me their education is overrated and to just keep doing what I’m doing-‘ DPT friend said not to go to PT school, my CSCS friend said it’s just okay, my CPT friends say their certs are fine but they learned more doing the thing etc- but I recognize my own limitations and ignorance and want to grow as a person who teaches movement (coach, instructor, practicioner?)
Working with a physical therapist she said she would expect anyone in this field of movement/fitness/exercise/working with people physically to have an education in exercise physiology.
My good friend who was an assistant strength coach for the US Olympic water polo team told me to go to osteopathy school but I’m not prepared for that endeavor. And I’m not sure it’s what I want in life.
Is that a good degree to get to make a career out of this passion of mine? Are there other options that are more relevant?

NOTE FROM AUTHOR: Hello Hello! I am a first-time writer embarking on my first dumpster fire; input is most welcome. I'm not the best self-editor, so get your hiking boots on. It's rough out there. Whenever I read it, I find or create more errors (:
OPTIONAL READS: For the Retro Computer or Programming Enthusiast OR if you are open to other formats of story telling. I tried to combine my love for programming as an UNDERSTANDABLE way to tell a story through a Visual Experience in the Command Line Interface;
A Stand-Alone VISUAL ASCII 'Programming Terminal' Story Prologue. Follow through(Screen Shots of my Command Line Interface) the UNE-EYE Observational Satellite Terminal as Kable extracts Classified Data about his Beloved Military Unit, THE HUMMINGBIRDS, a flying exoskeleton unit. This includes the origin story of a Technology Tree in Book 1.

####

INDEX

1. DEADCOAST - THE HUMMINGBIRDS PROLOGUE -> HERE <-
   
2. DEADCOAST - COMPLETE ILLUSTRATED INTRO -> HERE <-
   
3. HEAT & GRIZZLY REDS - CHAPTER 1 ILLUSTRATED -> HERE <-
   

"Deadcoast Book 1: Heat and the Grizzly Reds" transports readers to a 2063 Earth, a world on the brink, where the scarcity of fresh water has led to previously unseen geopolitical tensions. Amidst this backdrop, the nation-backed militant group DAGGR has emerged as a formidable force, leveraging advanced technology to assert control over Canada’s abundant water resources. At the heart of their arsenal is 'slugTech,' a technology pioneered by James Broadshaw, intended for ecological restoration but repurposed for militaristic dominance.
The story unfolds with the chilling invasion of Vancouver, marking a turning point as DAGGR makes its ambitions clear, culminating in the assassination of the Canadian Prime Minister. This act of aggression leaves the country reeling, exposing vulnerabilities and igniting a global reaction.
The UNE-EYE satellite is central to the international response, a significant narrative element representing the world's most advanced orbital tracking system. Once decommissioned in favour of privacy, the Dutch reactivated the satellite as a strategic move to monitor DAGGR's movements and coordinate a unified international effort against the aggressors. This revival of UNE-EYE symbolizes a crucial turning point, highlighting the global stakes and the interconnectedness of nations in the face of a common enemy.
As Canada grapples with its plight, the DAMU (Deserted American Military Units) rise in solidarity, breaching borders to fight alongside their Canadian counterparts. This act of defiance is mirrored by international forces, including the Netherlands and Ukraine, each bringing their unique strengths to the coalition, underscored by the strategic oversight provided by the UNE-EYE satellite.
Amidst the geopolitical chaos, a man who had all but given up, a boxer on the ropes, emerges from Vancouver's Gastown. Known as HEAT, this leader of the Grizzly Reds becomes a symbol of resistance and hope. HEAT's story, and that of the Grizzly Reds, is one of resilience, rallying not only Canadians but also global citizens to stand against DAGGR's tyranny.
" Deadcoast Book 1: Heat and the Grizzly Reds" is a compelling narrative of survival, alliance, and resistance. It deftly weaves together elements of advanced technology, international politics, and the indomitable human spirit. The inclusion of the UNE-EYE satellite serves as a testament to the complexities of modern warfare and the critical role of global surveillance and coordination in maintaining security and freedom. But something else stirs amongst it. The UNE still shrouds its use, albeit assuring it is for record-keeping purposes- there is no way to be sure. Join HEAT and the Grizzly Reds as they navigate the challenges of Time, War, Science and liberating their fellow man in Vancouver. THE GRIZZLIES NEED YOU, in this action-packed, emotional saga, speaks to the resilience and camaraderie inherent in the human condition.
CHAPTER 1 - The Blood Spattered Maples
ILLUSTRATED VERSION -> HERE <-
The early morning sun cast a serene glow over Vancouver, its golden rays gently coaxing the city from its slumber. The harbour lay still, bathed in a tranquil blend of crimson and amber, defiantly calm as if aware of the day's latent potential for tumult. The awakening streets, pulsating with the vibrant beat of daily enterprise, transformed into bustling arteries of life.
Amidst this urban renaissance, Ryan stood by his apartment window, one eye still tinged a fading shade of deep lavender from last night's ordeals. He absorbed the duality of the world outside – a peaceful façade masking an undercurrent of chaos, much like his own existence. The apartment, a silent guardian of his life's chapters, was awash with tangible memories; some stood proudly like trophies, and others lingered like indelible scars.
"Eugh, need to sort out this money mess," Ryan muttered, his voice a gravelly mix of resolve and weariness. He gingerly touched the bruise beneath his eye, a stark reminder of the previous night's fight. He wasn't just a boxer but a living, breathing paradox. His undefeated record of 12-0 was more than a tally of victories; it was a map of a life spent dancing in and out of shadows. At 17, he was a beacon of hope for Canadian Olympic Futures. Now, at 33, he was a spotlight in his subconscious, illuminating the relentless passage of time and a road riddled with 'what ifs.' Eleven of those wins were echoes from a past steeped in the sweat and blood of the ring before life's currents swept him into the city's gritty underbelly. There, he became an enforcer, not out of choice but a necessity, bound by ties, not of blood but of unbreakable bonds forged in adversity. Stepping back into the ring at 33, Ryan wasn't chasing glory; he was hunting redemption, a chance to rewrite a narrative that had veered off course.
Today's boxing was far from what he once knew; it had transformed into a digital spectacle, a charade he refused to partake in. The sport now paraded fighters adorned with loud chains and face tattoos, pretending to live a life of crime they don't. Vile symbols of fame he doesn't wish for. Ryan had always skirted the fringes of the spotlight, respecting the sport but despising what it had become - a glorified masquerade that he believed led the youth astray. He stared out at the awakening city, contemplating his place in this ever-changing world, just as the first notes of a familiar yet unwelcome voice crackled from the vintage radio on his shelf.
"Ah, jimmy2piece," he scoffed, the name leaving a bitter taste. The vintage radio crackled on, announcing the dazzling exploits of the heavyweight boxing champion, an embodiment of everything Ryan detested about the sport's current state. Ryan's hand lingered over the old radio, a relic amidst the bountiful thrift and trinket that abundantly filled his apartment. The announcer's voice, overly flamboyant in its praise of 'jimmy2piece,' clashed with the morning's tranquillity, grating against Ryan's every nerve. With a flick brimming with contempt, he silenced the intrusive chatter. The ensuing silence was a stark reminder of his path's divergence from the once-noble art of boxing to a life mired in moral ambiguity.
"Enough of this nonsense," he muttered, the disdain in his voice mirroring the snarl on his lips as he spun the dial back to silence.
*Click*
Ryan was a man of contemplation; opening his balcony door, he let the morning breeze mingle with the memories that haunted him daily. These reflections were a tormenting ritual, no matter the joys and love surrounding him. His only respite was constant movement – hobbies, work, art – anything to fend off the sharp claws of the past that threatened to shred the remnants of his self-respect. He had lost ten years to choices and actions that replayed in his mind relentlessly every single day.
"This 'jimmy2shoes' or whatever...pal throws pillows, a poser pretending he's about that gang life; I can see it in his eyes, he's not a killer," he grumbled, gazing out at the awakening city. This day promised a respite from his underground fights – at least for a while. His recent backstreet brawls, a far cry from the glory of the boxing ring, were what paid the bills now. "At least I've bought myself three more months..."
Leaning on the railing of his miniature balcony, Ryan cradled a cup of steaming coffee, his gaze drifting over the streets below. At this moment, the chaos of his life seemed distant, replaced by a transient calm. Despite his bruised, rough presentation, a certain peace enveloped him, a rare stillness that belied the storm of his existence. His thoughts meandered through the serene hum of the city and the gentle brush of the ocean breeze. The skyscape, with clouds dancing to the ocean's rhythm, offered a brief escape from his turbulent past.
Memories of Robin, his mentor and friend, floated into his consciousness. Robin's untimely death in Dubai was a wound that never healed. The sacrifices he had made to keep Robin safe, only to be absent on the fateful trip that claimed his friend's life, weighed heavily on him. "Why did it have to be you, Robin?" he whispered to the horizon, the question, a haunting torment upon his daily routines.
Ryan was a thinker; as he slid over his ashtray from the stool, he sparked up A morning 'dart' (cigarette), as he called them. His past began to creep into his head, as it did every morning. With each inhalation of addiction-soothing nicotine, his blazing thoughts followed as his brain began to become fully active from his sleep. It was a raven on his shoulder tormenting him, pecking at him ever haunting his consciousness. No matter the love he may have found or the happiness, friends, or family surrounding him. The time to reflect was always grim and consistently unbearable. If he stood still, the Ravel's claws sunk more profoundly; the only reprieve was constant distractions. It's why he kept so busy, creative, and active. Ryan constantly kept moving with hobbies, work, or art. Pushing off the switchblade thoughts ready to cut into his subconscious and bleed out whatever self-respect he had left that day. He threw away ten years of his life, and he relives them every. Single. Day.
"Damn man, what's the point of it all?" Ryan's voice was barely a whisper, lost in the morning breeze. His gaze lingered on the horizon, eyes clouded with confusion and pain. "Robin's gone, and here I am, a ship adrift; up shits creek without a paddle. What good can I do? What purpose do I serve? My skillset? My knowledge? Ive wasted my life, nothing is applicable." The questions hung in the air, unanswered. Ryan's life had indeed been a storm of violence and turmoil, from the gritty days working alongside Robin, watching his back to his hard-fought victories in the boxing ring. He had dreamt of leaving the world of fights behind, yet fate seemed to have woven a different path for him, one that he couldn't escape...
The distant sound of boat horns broke his train of thought. These weren't the usual rhythmic calls that echoed along Vancouver's shores; they carried a sense of urgency, growing louder and more frantic by the second. Ryan leaned forward, squinting into the morning light. The sight that greeted him was anything but ordinary. Dark, ominous and foreboding shapes were cutting through the waters toward the Seawall – military-grade ships that seemed like phantoms against the sun's bright backdrop.
"What the...?" Ryan murmured, a wry smile touching his lips as he recalled a line from a 1930s radio show. "Ah yes, the 'Anti-Frackers' upping their game, bravo!" He often found solace in humour, a shield against the world's harsh realities. Ryan was an unbreakable anvil to the world, always struck to sharpen others' steel. But what about his iron resolve? He bore the burdens so others didn't have to, a silent guardian shouldering the world's weight in stoic silence. Yet beneath that armour of stoicism beat the heart of a man grappling with his vulnerabilities, a man with a core as soft as it was intense.
Just like that- The world as we knew it, changed forever.
The morning's peace shattered abruptly as sirens wailed into life, slicing through the air with a sense of impending doom. The tranquil dawn was now a backdrop to a nightmare unfolding in real time. Ryan's eyes, mirroring the turbulent hues of a stormy sea, narrowed in primal alertness. These were not friendly vessels coming to grace the city's harbour; they were harbingers of chaos, their arrival a silent scream in the gardens of Vancouver's tranquility. As the city around him carried on, blissfully unaware of the looming threat, Ryan's mind shifted into high gear, honed by years of confrontation, conflict and reading other peoples intentions. He understood the unspoken language of death, the subtle shift in the air that preluded catastrophe. The serene calm that had greeted the day now seemed like the deceptive stillness before a devastating storm.
PFFFFT~~
Ryan's coffee ejected out his mouth, a clean mist dispersed, dancing in the ocean winds.
His eyes widened in shock. "That... No, that's not right. That honeycomb structure on the bow – that's rumoured military tech, not something you'd find on a civilian vessel. That's definitely not one of our decommissioned ships; Canada has always had a modest military budget- It's not the U.S. either; they've moved on to those massive city carriers," he muttered, recalling the recent unveiling of the U.S.'s latest naval behemoth designed to be a self-sustaining war ecosystem.
"These are destroyers...carriers...and what in the world are those landing crafts?" His voice trailed off as a wave of realization washed over him. A heavy breath escaped his lips, his heartbeat thundering in unison with a growing sense of dread. This kind of military might, sleek and menacing, was straight out of the pages of a dystopian novel. Ryan's pulse quickened, adrenaline coursing through his veins, mingling with an unsettling fear. Vancouver, with its serene beauty and peaceful reputation, was the last place one would expect a military invasion. Yet, as he stood there, the city around him persevered in blissful ignorance. Laughter and the sounds of daily life echoed up to his balcony, starkly juxtaposed against the darkening horizon of his thoughts.
Something sinister was unfolding, and he felt an urgent need to act. "Ah, damn it!" he exclaimed, frustration boiling over as he hurled his mug to the ground, where it shattered into razer sharp ceramic shards—a glimpse of futures past.
The walls of Ryan's apartment, once a gallery of memories from a life half-lived, now felt like they were closing in on him. The space that had been his refuge, adorned with mementos of a tumultuous past, suddenly felt like a prison. He felt trapped, not by physical barriers, but by the weight of the unfolding crisis. Who could he call? Who would believe him about an impending military assault? Was there even time?
Each option seemed as hopeless as the next, leaving him feeling powerless. His fists, which had once brought him victory in the ring, now seemed futile in the face of this immense and unknown threat.
BOOM
A thunderous crash tore through the city's fabric, piercing the veil of laughter and routine. Giggles changed to Shrieks, the buzzing of cars in the city turned screeching of panicked tires. It was a boom resonating with such force that it seemed to shake the very resolve of the most robust steel, a sound that demands attention and captivates a person, a sound of death; it rattles you to the bone. This explosion marked a pivotal moment that would forever alter the course of Vancouver's history and, indeed, the world's.
The resounding echo of the first explosion heralded a declaration of war on all that was ordinary. In Ryan, the shockwave ignited a transformation. Despair morphed into an unyielding determination, a fire kindled deep within. His skin prickled, each hair standing on end as if his nerves were braille, spelling out the moment's urgency.
"Are they firing at us?" Ryan's voice was a mix of disbelief and rising panic. The thought seemed almost too surreal to entertain. He hesitated momentarily, grappling with the reality of the situation. The explosion's roar, so fierce it shook the foundations of his apartment, jolted him back to the present. Racing back to his balcony, what he saw confirmed his darkest fears.
The ships in the harbour were no longer silent, ominous spectators; they had unleashed their fury, sending plumes of smoke and debris skyward. Vancouver's skyline, once a proud testament to peace and progress, now served as a harrowing backdrop to an unfolding apocalypse. Below, the streets descended into chaos. People scattered in a frantic attempt to escape, their screams piercing the air, a chorus of dawning terror.
Ryan's heart pounded against his chest, each beat a call to action. He was no hero, never the 'good guy' in his story, but he did value life above all. Standing there, witnessing his city being torn apart, he knew he couldn't remain a passive observer. Indecision and shock gave way to resolve.
"MOTHA FU-" he cursed, his words lost in the burst of an explosion, spotted at the last second.
The world around him had erupted into a maelstrom of fire and fury.
An air burst shell detonated with ferocious intensity a mere 50 meters from Ryan's sanctuary. The explosion ripped through the building, an unforgiving hatred that jolted reality itself. The blast wave, a monstrous force of destruction, assaulted his apartment, shattering the windows with an ease that mocked Vancouver's fragility. Glass shards, transformed into lethal projectiles, hurtled through the air with a hunter's precision, each piece seeking its target. Instinctively, Ryan lunged for cover, his only protection a vintage oak promotional board, a relic of a bygone era. This wooden guardian, decorated with the iconic image of Stan Lee, stood as a stoic defender, a symbol of comic heroism now repurposed to shield flesh and blood from the brutal onslaught.
A low hum erupts from the depths of his being as the fireball swirled around him. "Breathe... I can't... don't fall asleep... don't...sleep..." he whispered, fighting the encroaching darkness. His cobalt eyes, glazing over open, fighting to the last light, flickered between consciousness and oblivion. The distant, muffled voices of mentors past echoed in his mind, a fading chorus in the theatre of his memories. Ryan looked to his left, cast one last lingering look at the Vancouver sky, a canvas of blue that seemed so distant now. As his vision began to narrow, a tunnel drawing him away from the light, Ryan felt the grip of darkness pulling him under heavy, yet weightless. Once so vivid and alive, the world around him was fading into shadows.
Amid shrapnel-induced unconsciousness, Ryan's mind catapulted him back to a pivotal moment from his youth – the Ontario Canadian Olympic Trials.
The stadium's noise swirled around him, but it was an entirely different world within the ring. There, it was just Ryan and his opponent, every move a testament to the sacrifices he and Robin(Ryan's longtime mentor both inside, and outside the ring) had made together.
Ryan's style in the ring was unique, a blend of calculated ferocity in speed and agility. He adopted the elusive, angular movements that Robin had honed while serving alongside the hardened Ukrainians on the frontlines of Kyiv. This style was compelling and unpredictable, frustrating his opponents with swift and efficient strikes. Ryan's ability to slip away from counters, almost serpentine in its execution, left them grasping at straws.
Point fighting for the Olympics was a system that worked well with Ryan's style but not necessarily with his mindset. Ryan was a fighter at heart, and sometimes, when pushed, the disciplined techniques would give way to a rawer form of combat. Robin, who always believed in Ryan's potential, saw this as his greatest fault and biggest asset to "push past." In his gruff but encouraging voice, Robin would often spew "The stink in that mind, You've got a head on you that'd make an onion cry," highlighting Ryan's occasionally impulsive nature, and inability to control his emotions when it mattered. This characteristic made Ryan fearless in the ring but also sloppy, open, and vulnerable. It often led him into trouble outside of the solace in prizefighting.
In these trials, Ryan's physical attributes – his slender frame, broad shoulders, wide back and a peculiarly long wingspan that gave him an imposing presence in his weight class – it made him stand out. His frame synchronized with his style, creating a truly unique spectacle of genetic gifts, hard work, and skill.
These memories blended nostalgia and pain as they flickered through Ryan's mind. They were reminders of a path once trodden, a journey shaped by the influence of a mentor and the determination of a fighter's spirit.
As the Olympic Trials set to begin, Robin looked to Ryan to instill confidence for his upcoming bouts, but Ryan was in his element. It was fight day, the fun day, the day to show off all of the hard work. Ryan had confidence, and his style in the ring displayed it in full. He moved with an angular rhythm that was both art and battle – slipping, landing a quick stiff counter cross, then gracefully stepping out of reach inches from returning fire. He made it look fun and easy, as if playing with his prey before fangs clench throat, delivering the killing bite. Looking closer, you can only see fire and determination in his bright eyes. He found purpose in the beautiful science of boxing. His strategy was that of a technical boxer, The Counterpuncher; 1. To bait his opponent into committing, then counter, fight long, fight smart. 2. Beat em' up, Frustrate em', then start slinging the heat in the uppercuts and lead hooks.
The bell rang and the fight was officially underway. Ryan controlled the ring with his long frame. Each exchange was rapid yet controlled, a dance of precise strikes and evasive maneuvers. The world's complexities faded in these moments, leaving only Ryan and the pure essence of the sport he loved. He felt invincible, a force of nature within the confines of the ring. To Ryan, the fight was more than a competition; it was a performance, an exhilarating escape from the mundane. It was true Purpose.
The intensity of the round reached a frustrating outburst by his opponent, who grabbed Ryan by the back of his head– 'SPLIT' called by the referee, his hand placed between them. A judge calls for a correction, catching the referee's attention only for a split second. In this second, Ryan's Opponent saw an opportunity. Lifting his head to move away, Ryan locks eyes with his Opponent, sporting a grin and delivering a sly headbutt as a parting gift. It's against the rules, but part of the game's harsh reality if gone unnoticed. Expelling energy and detesting it was a waste of fuel. It was a jolting reminder of "at all times"(protect yourself), a stark contrast to the discipline and respect Ryan upheld, starting his boxing journey in Thailand under "Muay Thai" rules, ideology of the worrior spirit and discipline. There was a sense of Honor in Lumpinee Stadium.
The outcome of these unsavoury tactics here is an advantage for the opponent. Ryan's inner pools erupt, his mind swirled with raging white waters, crashing and colliding against each other, two oceans with opposite currents meeting in his consciousness. His once technical thoughts, muscle memory mixed with fight iq burst with flames, erupting and incinerating all strategy in his path. His eyes widened, open like he'd found his primal genetic ancestry hidden deep within. The slaughter and the war of history. The bloodshed of 1000 lifetimes. He felt it all. Manic in thought. Ryan wanted to take his glove off and rip his cheeks open from the inside out--
BREAK - Ryan snaps back into it, erupting in stoic, silent, primal rage.

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The fight escalated, Ryan's disciplined technique unravelled under the seething tide of his rage. The finesse and agility that once defined his footwork gave way to a heavier, more aggressive stance. His feet, usually light and swift under his commanding frame, now felt anchored to the floor, each step driven more by fury than finesse. This transformation in style played perilously into his opponent's advantage. Ryan, usually a master of stick-and-move tactics, found himself engaging in close-quarter brawls, trading his advantage for a risky gamble. His in-and-out maneuvers, once a blur of grace, turned into brutish, in-the-pocket exchanges. This was a terrain where his more muscular and compact opponent had the upper hand. A raw, primal contest of power replaced the tactical dance that Ryan excelled at. Ryan's precise strikes became wild swings, his movements predictable to his seasoned adversary. Seizing the moment, the opponent unleashed a devastating barrage of inside hooks with their compact frame. A vicious right hook, lands clean in the exchange, thrown with the grace of a milkbag, the power hooks brute force, cut through Ryan's defences. The blow landed with a bone-jarring impact, sending a shockwave through Ryan's frame. His world spun as he stumbled, his once dominant presence in the ring now faltering under the weight of his unchecked emotions.
The ground rushed up to meet him as he crashed onto the canvas, the taste of iron and the sting of defeat mingling in his mouth. The crowd's roar faded into a distant echo, a stark reminder of how quickly the tides of battle could turn. Robin's voice sliced through the ringing from the corner, resonating with a force that commanded attention.
"Get your shit together, JUMPIN JESUS RYAN! HEART OF GOLD AND HEAD OF STONE – GET UP, YOU LITTLE COWARD! YOU'RE LETTING IT WIN, AGAIN! STOP THIS ONION HEAD NONSENSE AND DANCE, BOX THIS FELLA – YOU'RE BETTER THAN THIS, ACT LIKE IT, BELIEVE IN IT!"
His words were more than just a call to action; they were a lifeline thrown into the stormy seas of Ryan's mind. Each syllable was drenched in the raw, unfiltered wisdom that only a life spent in the cauldron of combat could forge. Robin's tone was a volatile cocktail of fury and concern, the urgency palpable in his voice. His palms crashed against the ring mat; each hit thunderous punctuation to his fiery sermon.
"You've got the talent, kid, but it's as good as ash if you keep burning it to the ground. I'M HERE FOR YOU, IM RIGHT HERE. SNAP OUT OF IT AND BOX THIS PLASTIC PATTY! MOVE GOD DAMNIT, GET UP!"
On the canvas, Ryan lay dazed, the echo of Robin's voice ringing in his ears. It was more than a mere pep talk; it was a wake-up call that struck a chord deep within him. Amidst the haze of the crowd murmurs and the pulsating pain that coursed through his body, clarity began to emerge. Lying there, Ryan grasped the essence of Robin's message –
"coward? letting it win? Playing my ego are ya Robin...hes right though. Im throwing this shit away."
This moment, sprawled on the canvas under the glaring lights and the crowd's gaze, became a crucible of transformation. The raw emotion and the hard-hitting truth in Robin's words ignited a spark in Ryan. It was time to rise, shake off the shadows of rage, and embrace a fighter's true spirit like he had learned in Thailand – not just with fists but with heart and mind in unison.
Staggered yet stirred by the dual impact of the physical hit and Robin's piercing words, A padded fist crushed into the rings canvas, followed by a kneee and the eruption of the crowd. Ryan was back, and he began to pull himself up from the canvas. His resolve, momentarily dimmed, now reignited with a fierce, clear, calculated intensity. Memories of the gruelling hours spent in the gym flooded back to him – the relentless sparring sessions, the time spent in Thailand, the sweat and toil, and the invaluable lessons etched into his being under Robin's stern tutelage.
With a renewed spirit, Ryan stepped back into the battle, his movements now embodying controlled power and a fluidity to his step. He recalled his time fighting beside the backdrop of the "Sarama" a traditional Thai music played when in combat. The times of learning to move, fight with the music, to flow, to be fluid, to be concise. Ryan finally put it all together in the heat of battle. He had merged his inherent ferocity with the disciplined technique that Robin relentlessly drilled into him, and the mindfull practises of the years he spent under Burklerk Pinsinchai in the jungles of Chiang Mai. His style was now fully displayed, raw and visceral yet refined by countless hours of practice in mind, body and spirit.
The final rounds bell clang to a start in a clinic of skill and sheer willpower. Ryan, driven by a blend of desperation and unwavering determination, unleashed a barrage of calculated and explosive strikes. Each punch and maneuver was a nod to the efficient, no-nonsense Ukrainian style that Robin had imparted to him. Ryan moved rhythmically across the mat, steps measured and precise, executing short, angular movements and deft outside counterpunches. He had returned to his element – the dance of combat, where he felt most alive, a symphony of movement where every step and punch was a testament to his life's journey and experiences as a human being first, and as a fighter second.
In this wake-up call, Ryan reinvigorated and reminded himself of his love for the sport, the exhilarating blend of art and athleticism. He was not just fighting to win; he was celebrating boxing, combat, honouring the path he had walked with Robin, and reclaiming what it meant to be a true fighter through Burklurk Pinsinchai's Teachings.
The round pressed on, and Ryan executed his maneuvers with a surgeon's precision. First;
-- The counterpuncher; a display in timing and accuracy, delivered with the full force of training and innate skill. --

1. He deftly slipped his opponent's cross, a move as fluid as it was swift.
   
2. He angled off, creating a space wide enough for his next move.
   
3. With an almost predatory precision, Ryan unleashed a powerful right cross, targeting his opponent's cheek from the angle he had just created. But Ryan wasn't done yet.
   
4. He slipped out again, evading any potential counter from his disoriented opponent. The rhythm, he danced in and out with his precise timing, perfected down to inches and angles.
   
5. In a final, decisive movement of the exchange, Ryan slipped in. He timed his step with a long cross that came off-beat, catching his opponent utterly off-guard. The punch landed with a satisfying impact, culminating in a perfectly executed combination. As he watched his opponent stagger, Ryan couldn't help but think, 'cya sleepy boi,' a silent acknowledgment of his dominance in this singular exchange.
   

This sequence was a statement. Ryan was not only back in the fight but also commanding it.
ONE!…TWO!…THREE!…FOUR!…FIVE!…SIX!...SEVEN!..EIGHT!
Ryan's opponent stands, admirable, but futile, driven by sheer will but hampered by sluggish movements, the man rose to his feet, it was clear the fight was reaching its zenith.
The opponent, gathering his remaining strength for a final stand, launched a jab, a last-ditch effort relying more on brute force than finesse. But this was a fatal mistake in Ryan's world – playing right into what Ryan was best at. Counters.
Ryan read the move with the clarity of a seasoned fighter. As the jab came, he effortlessly slipped to the right, evading the punch with a short angular step that spoke of his ring intelligence. Instantly, he countered with the same sharp cross from his right hand, followed by a devastating hook that cut through the air with lethal intent in his left. Grasping at straws, reeling from the counter, Ryans opponent threw a desperate, looping last stand punch, Ryan dipped down and left, rolling the punch with an elegance that made it seem almost effortless. He was Hunting for the Kill Shot. Seizing the moment, Ryan unleashed a ferocious left uppercut, the force of the blow lifting his opponent's chin skyward. He followed up with a right overhand, but just before impact, he halted the punch. There was no need for it; his opponent was already collapsing, the "Lights were on, but no one was Home". The fight was effectively over, Ryan's last combination is the final note, a crescendo that echoed through the ring.
As his opponent hit the canvas, the crowd erupted. Ryan stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, every fibre of his being alight with the thrill of victory. This wasn't just a win; it was a performance, a display of skill, heart, and the indomitable spirit of a fighter who had walked through fire and flames to the otherside and emerge victorious.
The final bell Rings with not a single chair in the arena warm; a thunderous clap erupts from the crowd. It was more than just applause; it was an acknowledgment of a battle fiercely fought by both men. In that moment ringside, in a triumphant victory, Ryan and Robin shared a look that spoke volumes, a connection far beyond the usual bounds of mentor and protégé. Their bond, tempered in the crucible of hardship and struggle, was now sealed in the glory of this defining triumph.
Standing amidst the cheers and the adrenaline-fueled euphoria, Ryan found himself momentarily lost in the tide of memories. It was a poignant reminder of the journey that had brought him here, a path marked by triumphs and losses. Robin's teachings transcended the confines of boxing; they were life lessons imprinted deep onto him. Ryan began to slowly step out of the ring; the weight of these reflections settled upon him. The victory was sweet, but it carried the weight of all sacrificed to achieve it. Robin's presence was felt strongly, a guiding force that continued to shape his path, illuminating the way forward even in the most challenging times.

Random question. Has anyone ever had a chiropractor help them with their knee injury? I've just randomly met one who was a top sports chiropractor working alongside physios and Drs in a couple of pro Basketball teams as well as other Olympic athletes. I have been told by a surgeon I have chondromalacia and will need an arthroscopy and maybe Microfracture or shaving. Anyway this chiro has told me he thinks I just have bone bruising as the pain doesn't match up to the MRI. He is saying my pelvis is massively twisted and all my muscles have tensed up and pulled my knee cap out of place. He believes he can get it fixed in 5 weeks seeing him 4 times a week. He also uses cold Lazer therapy. Has anyone else gone down this path and had success? Not overly excited about the prospect of Microfracture.

I got injured recently so I started binge watching JudoTV - the matches of the top 10-20 players in most weight classes. It was… bad. Despite the IJF’s attempts since the Olympic removal scare of 2012 to increase viewership (including banning leg grabs) judo remains an incredibly painful sport to watch. A lot of matches see constant, sometimes minutes-long delays from coaches contesting decisions and forcing refs to review footage. Others are constantly delayed when one player gets tired and takes his time putting his gi back together.
These are both simple, though not easy, fixes. Removing the “fix your gi” rule and having 1 ref and no ability to call time outs from the corner (like literally every other combat sport) would do wonders for judo’s watchability.
The other thing that makes judo boring is the number of matches at high levels won through 3 shido. Some players (Zelym Kotsoeiv is the absolute worst) have made an art out of spamming ineffective, but not false, attacks to avoid shido and make their opponents look passive, then winning by hansokumake or a counter against a desperate, 2 shido opponent.
This I don’t have a good answer for. I’m sure whoever comes up with an elegant solution will become a millionaire, considering how long the IJF has struggled with it. My initial proposal would be to make losing by shido impossible, and instead count shidos as “minus points”. If we changed the scoring system where wazari is worth 5 points and ippon 10, then shido can be -3 or -5. 10 points are needed to win, and you can accumulate negative points. Of course this cheapens the finality of the ippon, and runs the risk of matches degrading into “shido wells” where both players are too far in the reds to score 10 points.
This all begs the point of why viewership is important, and it’s not just to stay in the Olympics. It can help athletes pay for their travel, and most importantly watching the circuit is the best way to improve at home, but most judokas don’t because it’s boring.
What are your thoughts? Any ideas on solving the 3 shido problem?

Tried to listen to a self-compassion mediation and at one point it says “every single one of us feels really painful, difficult emotions.” And my deep core emotional response to that was anger.
It’s the same when I’m told phrases like “you’re human, nobody is perfect.” Not comforting at all. My not so sub-conscious just want first place in the trauma olympics and it certainly doesn’t want to accept any flaws or imperfections.
Or perhaps the worst one, “there will always be someone who has it worse.” I just feel so angry? invalidated? Criticised? Maybe this one is a bit more… non pathological but I don’t know.
This fucking sucks (pity party).