Everything else in your life has a "hack" now. You can use an app to skip the grocery line, a bot to write your work reports, and a screen to pretend you’re outside. We’ve optimized the struggle right out of our daily lives. The problem is, when you remove the struggle, you remove the growth. You end up with a high-speed life and a brain that’s forgotten how to handle anything that doesn’t have a loading bar.
That’s why a place like Relentless MMA is becoming a weird kind of sanctuary. You can’t download a gas tank. You can't ChatGPT your way out of a bad position when someone has their cross-face buried in your jaw. There is no algorithm that can make you comfortable in the chaos of a live round. It’s one of the few places left where the only way through is the work. It’s honest, it’s sweaty, and it’s unapologetically difficult.
Look at a guy like Grant Fleming. He’s heading to Pontotoc on February 7th to get into a cage with another human being who has spent months trying to figure out how to beat him. There isn't a digital shortcut for that. Grant’s ready because he’s spent his nights here doing the things that can’t be automated. He’s put in the rounds when his lungs were burning and his ego was taking a hit. That kind of confidence—the kind you earn on the mat—is a different animal than the fake confidence people project online.
We don’t train because we’re obsessed with fighting. We train because we’re obsessed with being the kind of people who can still do hard things. In a world that’s getting increasingly "plugged in" and automated, choosing to be Relentless is how you stay human. You show up, you get humbled, you learn, and you get better. You can’t outsource that, and you wouldn't want to anyway.
