This past week, Matt and I watched the first two episodes of “American Gladiators,” a remake of the old show from back in the 1990s. Buffed out gladiators with intimidating names like Crush, Titan, and Fury battle it out with everyday Joes and Janes who want to prove their strength by getting beat up and worn out on public TV.

Watching the show reminded me just how fascinated I am with fighting (though under a controlled, skilled environment), and I think the reason for this is because I am not a fighter, but wouldn’t mind being one. I don’t like boxing, but mixed martial arts fights and martial arts in general are cool. Muay Thai was great because we got to beat up punching bags (which actually left bruises on me) and got to make contact with other people. Capoeira has the same one-on-one sparring opportunity, but without the contact. But in actuality, I’m timid and afraid of getting hurt–or hurting someone else. So real fighters live out my fantasy, and I get to sit on the sidelines and watch.

I think that also explains my dedicated viewing of “America’s Next Top Model” (along with detailed weekly recaps with Melanie, although I’m more interested in the photography aspect than the modeling), and my fascination with anything related to breakdancing, acrobatics, and dancing. Aside from dance performances and cheerleading in high school, these performance-type activities are beyond my reach. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t have the persona to be a b-girl, I’m slightly fearful of trying acrobatics at this age (too many images of coming down on my neck), and enjoy my full-time job too much to pursue acrobatic arts to join Cirque du Soleil. All these things I would love to do just are not who I am, as much as I’d enjoy them.

As part of my vicarious living, I just finished a book called “A Fighter’s Heart” by Sam Sheridan. Sam is a writer, but also has a deep interest in fighting, so he sets out on a journey around the world, training different fighting forms. He starts out by training at Fairtex in Thailand, and that’s pretty much why I picked up the book in the first place. From there, he’s in Rio, Japan, Oakland, and trains with, interviews, and watches other well-known and up-and-coming fighters. All the while, he examines his own desire to fight.

I am not a fighter, a martial artist, or anything remotely close. Yes, I take a capoeira class once a week, but I don’t have the heart of a capoeirista because I simply cannot give it the priority that it demands. Through this book and through my own experiences/insights, I can at least try to understand why fighters do what they do. Here’s what I wrote in my book journal after reading the book:

“A theme that resonates through this book is that true fighters who do well and carry on longest are those who truly love it. Those people are most self-driven and dedicated to the purity of fighting, rather than the money and show biz aspect. Sam sums it up by saying that, on the surface, fighting seems like a test of manhood or courage. Yet really, it’s about the fighter’s own examination of his or her life and motives.

Through the intense training and fighting, you learn so much about yourself that goes beyond how you fight. You want to see if you have courage, skill, speed, loyalty. Through capoeira, I have recognized my inability to improvise, to live without strict rules–and because I’m so rigid about guidelines and instructions, it’s hard for me to be a skilled, crafty capoeirista. And that extends to other areas of my life, too. I don’t want to do anything wrong.

And to end with a quote from the book: ‘These men who have fought, and who really understand what it’s about, have left their egos behind…it’s a form of enlightenment; lack of fear leads to nobility of character…Having a fighter’s heart, having gameness, is about knowing yourself and not being afraid of losing. You become a better version of yourself.’”