My Fight / Your Fight by Ronda Rousey

laps.”
    My eyes widened.
    â€œI’m serious,” my mom said. “Go run.”
    I hobbled away, more hopping than running.
    â€œI said ‘run laps,’ not hop laps,” my mom said. “Run.”
    I shuffled around the mat, my toe throbbing.
    In the car on the way home, I stared out the window pouting, because I had such a cruel mother.
    â€œYou know why I did that?” my mom asked.
    â€œBecause you hate me.”
    â€œNo, it was to show you that you could do it,” my mom said. “If you want to win the way you say you do, you need to be able to compete, even when you’re in pain. You need to be able to push through. Now you know you can.”
    In the years since then, I have competed with broken toes and sprained ankles—not to mention with the flu and bronchitis—but a broken foot was my biggest challenge to date. It took all of my focus to simply block out the pain, leaving me little ability to concentrate on each match. I was competing solely on instinct to carry me through. The day went on and the pain grew worse. Beads of sweat started forming on my forehead every time tournament officials called me “on deck.” By pure determination, I won the double-elimination tournament, but en route, I lost a match. My lone loss came to Marti Malloy. Marti would win a bronze medal in the 2012 Olympics.
    My mom called that evening to see how I did. Hearing I lost to Marti, my mom was shocked. I never lost, especially not at some local tournament.
    â€œWhat happened?” she asked.
    Considering my capacity for lying is pretty terrible, I had no choice but to explain.
    â€œMom, I jumped over a fence while ditching school and broke my foot,” I said.
    â€œInstead of telling someone, you competed on it?” I couldn’t tell if my mom’s tone was incredulous or angry.
    â€œI didn’t want to get in trouble,” I said quietly.
    â€œWell, that’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” my mom said. “But competing on a broken foot is a pretty good punishment.”
    â€œSo I’m not in trouble?” I asked.
    â€œOh no, you’re totally grounded,” she said.
    My punishment lasted a month. Knowing I could push through pain and succeed has lasted a lifetime. Pain was just something I became accustomed to as part of life. If you’re an athlete and want to win, something always hurts. You are always dealing with bruises and injuries. You’re testing how far you can push the human body, and whoever pushes it the furthest wins. Since the very first time I stepped on the mat, I was determined to be the one who wins.

TURN LIMITATIONS INTO OPPORTUNITIES
    I’ve seen a positive benefit from every negative thing that has happened in my life, including every injury. My career has been filled with injuries, but not derailed by them. Too many people see an injury as something that prevents them from progressing. I’ve used every physical setback to develop in another area I wouldn’t have otherwise addressed. When I broke my right hand, I said, “I’m going to have a badass left hook when this is all said and done.” When I ended up with stitches in my foot days before a fight, I was driven to make sure I ended that fight definitively and fast.
    Don’t focus on what you can’t do. Focus on what you can.
    I was sparring at my club, Venice Judo, which despite its name is actually located in Culver City, California. One day this kid, who would randomly come to practice, showed up. He was my age, but way bigger. We had been going to the same club for years, and I had always wiped the mat with him. Then he hit that high-school growth spurt, which gave him about five inches and sixty pounds more than me. I still wiped the mat with him, but whenever we trained it turned into a battle for teenage pride.
    I was still favoring my left foot. The break was largely healed, but my foot was still sore. We