The split second before I hurt my wrist on Kill Bill, which was my second injury, I remembered thinking – I was worried for my mom, and dad and my brother because they were going to have a vegetable daughter and I knew that would devastate them. That was literally the thought that went through my head. It wasn’t even terror. I knew I was going to miss the mat. Missing the mat meant landing on the ground and I was traveling God knows how many miles an hour. So I guess that I only hurt my wrist is pretty awesome.

There was surgery and I was out for a year with that one. That was shit. Normally if I’m bored, I’ll surf, or I’ll go for a walk, or ride my bike.  But because there was an injury involved, I couldn’t do any of that.  So I was bored.  That manifests itself as a straight grumpy. I did a lot of walking. I did a lot of reading. I did a lot of bitching and moaning.

Most of the time, the pain is fleeting so you just push through it and you don’t really notice it until you’re in the shower that night. And then, it’s gone by the next morning. But there are definitely times that you have to work with an injury, and you work through it and it’s an element of consistent pain. But I’m not Hercules or anything like that. When I’m not at work, my pain threshold is far less. If I stub my toe at home, I’ll cry.  If I break my toe during a fight at work, you won’t know until maybe the next day if I can’t get my shoe on.

I don’t know how I deal with it. There’s the difference between the pain that’s just sore and pain that’s my body telling me to stop. If it’s the pain where my body is telling me to stop, nd if I’ve got the balls to say, “I need to stop.” I will. The other pain, I just keep going.

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