I’m a martial artist, and I don’t train because I have a fight; I train because it’s my lifestyle, and I’ll train every day if I’m not hurt.

My fear delivered one of the great lessons of my life: That someone without fear can’t push himself. He can’t get better. He can’t transform negatives into positives. He can’t open his world to creativity and invention, or even progress.

The real test is this one: When you're alone in a room, when you're in a private place and nobody else can see you, what do you choose to do? Eat well, or eat poorly? Exercise, or watch television? Practice something, or do nothing? The best version of the truth appears to you and you alone, when nobody else can see. This is the test of discipline, and it's what makes the difference in your life. It's what regulates your own system and guides it. The individual alone comprehends it.

I've started late, I was 19 years old. I've trained with Victor Zilberman - he's a Russian-Jewish from Moldova. His son David who is coaching me represented Canada in the Olympic games. There were a lot of very good wrestlers there and they took me underneath their wing when I was young.

What happens when you accept and embrace your fear? Fear becomes your weapon.

A guy that has more knowledge has the advantage.

People often say, 'Ah, ultimate fighting is so violent,' but it's rooted in martial arts. Martial arts incarnate respect. You can't walk into a dojo and say to your sensei, 'Hey, salut tabarnac!' After every one of my fights I go and shake the hand of my opponent. I don't need to hate the other fighter to fight him well. It's a sport.