I've got to live my life. Bad things happen. I can't be sitting here worrying about it.

In the '90s, when I started, it was still a rough-and-tumble, physical league. You take the hook and holding and a little bit of the physicality out of the game, and the speed ratcheted up two-fold. Now you have a split second to make a hit, or decide to pull up. When there's indecision, you're going to make a mistake.

I was sitting at a friend's place in Michigan on vacation, having a beer on the patio. I was a little hefty. I said to myself: "Okay, I'm going to finish this weekend off strong, then after that I'm going to shut her down. I'm going to start taking better care of myself."

You have to close quickly, you have to eliminate time and space and you have to try to deny them the puck. When you're playing with it, it forces them out of their rhythm and forces them to play defense, which they obviously don't want to do.

I wanted to stay in the game. I wanted to learn more about the league, what goes on behind the scenes. As a player, you don't really think about that, nor do you really care: you're worried about your job.

Mistakes happen. Not every one of my suspensions was purposeful or intentional. A lot of that stuff happens spur of the moment in the middle of a game. I think I can bring that to the table. Sometimes emotions get the best of you. Things happen.

My doctors say the more I continue to push, the more I can continue to raise that bar, the better I can get.