A Quote by Diego Sanchez
After weigh-ins you're doing wheat pasta or you're trying to carb back up. This was actually really throwing me off, causing an inflammatory response in my digestive system, in my brain, in my body. Throwing off my mind.
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A day or two before games, it's all carb overload: pasta, rice, potatoes, stuff like that. And, straight after the game, it's important to get as much carbohydrate on as possible. Refuel your body and get as much back in as you can. As it tails off a day or two later you, ease off on the carbs and go to more protein, vegetables, and salads.
If you're throwing someone off a roof, you're throwing them off the roof. It's there. You don't have to do anything extra with that. The audience is obviously going to react to that because it's such a heightened thing to do. But in the other moments, you really look for ways to craft those, because they're more important, honestly.
Get off me,” Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew’s hands off him in disgust. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because — I don’t reckon my dad would’ve wanted them to become killers — just for you.
At 135 I always floated too close to my actual weight. I was always trying to keep my weight up to 135. And every time I faced off with an opponent, I could never believe how large they were after they blew up after weigh-ins. I would always just be the same size.
We practice throughout the week throwing jump balls, throwing fades, throwing all these little things. But when the game comes, you never know what's going to come up.
The rig work can be rewarding to pull off, a really good rig in a set of wires where you're throwing yourself up walls and doing moves mid-air. That's just fun.
I started out doing multiple characters from day one, when I got my fist job in 'Dumbo's Circus.' I'm used to getting in an argument with myself, throwing myself off a cliff, patching myself up and brushing myself off with an arm around my shoulder.
I said: 'I'm throwing in my job, and I'm going to write a book.' Everyone thought: 'She's off her trolley,' and it was quite crazy, really. I'm just lucky that it came off.
After I left Yale, we were all doing these mad plays off - off Broadway. And I got back to that feeling I had from college, of everyone making up in front of one cracked mirror, which is what I loved - the scrappy theater idea. I think off-off Broadway healed me, made me an actor again, and I was in so many different crazy shows.
I lapsed into my pathetic cut-off period. Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up. I am polite. I nod. I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt. That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble. Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta. No matter. My brain shuts off. I listen. I respond. And they are too dumb to know that I am not there.
I think they need to start doing cageside weigh-ins again. I think that's the best way to go if you really want to see some difference. Cageside weigh-ins; I guarantee you won't see people cutting more than five to eight pounds, and they'll be fighting closer to their natural weight class.
i'm back at my cliff still throwing things off i listen to the sounds they make on their way down i follow him with my eyes 'till they crash imagine what my body would sound like slamming against those rocks.
I've always been a defensive wrestler, but when I go in there in the fights, I get so caught up in trying to knock people's heads off that wrestling goes out the window when you're throwing punches and kicks and stuff.
I became so desperate that I considered throwing Eric [Beck] off the ledge. I thought I could get down and then lie about what had happened. To my addled brain, this was plausible. Then I came to my senses and woke Eric up and told him that either he had to retreat or I'd throw him off. We went down and I never climbed again for a quarter of a century.
He shifted his weight, throwing his good leg off the bed as if he were going to try to stand. “What are you doing?” I demanded through the tears. “Lie down, you idiot, you’ll hurt yourself!” I jumped to my feet and pushed his good shoulder down with two hands. He surrendered, leaning back with a gasp of pain, but he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me down on the bed, against his good side. I curled up there, trying to stifle the silly sobs against his hot skin.
The ocean is tired. It's throwing back at us what we're throwing in there.
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