I visualize my nose being broken - Jakub Wikłacz on the monk mentality in the UFC

Wikłacz contrasts his approach with common sports psychology that focuses on visualization of success (raising a hand, celebrating). He argues that anyone can do that, but the true test of a fighter is handling the hardest moments. He believes that visualizing the worst situations—being cut, having a broken nose, losing rounds—and rehearsing exactly how he will keep looking for a finish or a solution is the real preparation. He says he has already 'lived' the fight hundreds of ways, so when something bad happens, it's not a surprise. This protocol is embedded in his overall mental training with sports psychologists and is something he believes every fighter must do to reach the top.

Wikłacz emphasizes that everything has an impact, and the key is awareness of what your body truly needs. He uses Wim Hof breathing as one tool among many, but he is not dogmatic. If he feels that the practice is depleting him rather than restoring him, he stops. This reflects his broader philosophy of not blindly following a protocol just because it's popular or recommended; he listens to his internal state and adjusts accordingly. This approach also applies to running or other light activities that may be theoretically good but could hinder deeper rest.

He mentions that besides Wim Hof, he uses 'more calming' techniques, specifically the 4-4-4-4 box breathing. He doesn't elaborate deeply but positions it as a go-to for settling his mind. It's part of a larger set of breathing methods he tests and integrates based on his current needs. He also experiments with other unnamed techniques that he finds online or through sport psychology, testing them and keeping what works.

Wikłacz explains that meditation is important but hard to define. For one person it's a seated ritual; for him, it often happens organically when he finishes a heavy sparring session, is completely exhausted, and sits down and does nothing. That moment of stillness, without distraction, becomes meditation. He also uses running as a form of active meditation where he throws away all thoughts. This flexible approach prevents meditation from becoming another chore and integrates seamlessly into his recovery. It aligns with his overall philosophy of listening to his body and not forcing protocols.

Wikłacz describes that entering a fight with the right emotional cocktail is essential. He cannot be too hyped up or too relaxed; he strives for a precise midpoint. He has developed a personal ritual where, about half an hour out, he begins his warm-up and gradually increases his aggressive focus, but always retains an undercurrent of relaxation. At the moment he steps into the cage, he deliberately tells himself a calm, almost casual phrase that signals to his brain that this is a normal, controlled situation. He used this at his UFC debut and knew that if he could reach that inner state, he would perform well. This protocol was developed with sports psychologists and is reinforced by his trust in his corner.

Wikłacz explains that he is highly aware of the trade-offs. If he goes for a run instead of resting, he knows it might provide marginal aerobic benefit but cost him more significant recovery for the next week. He consciously chooses full rest when his body needs it. He contrasts this with other athletes who might feel anxious if they don't do something physical; for them, that light activity reduces mental stress, so it's still beneficial. The key is self-awareness. His own practice leans toward prioritizing deep nerve system rest on weekends as a planned part of his training cycle, not an afterthought.

Wikłacz explains that his family has grown accustomed to his pre-fight routine: they know that if he calls once a month, that's good. He doesn't completely disappear, but he reduces his availability to near zero. This isolation allows him to live in his own world where only the fight exists. He is aware that if he had a wife and children, he would still find a way to create this bubble in the final days. This is part of his 'monk mentality'—the ability to temporarily detach from normal life.

Wikłacz explains that currently, when the UFC offers a fight, he doesn't even want to see the opponent's name first; he wants the contract with just the date. He briefly checks the opponent later, but his default is yes. He contrasts his situation with someone like Bogdan Guskow, who is ranked and can afford to be more strategic. For him, refusing any fight would be counterproductive to his goal of reaching the top. He believes that to be champion, he must be ready to beat anyone, so there is no point in picking and choosing now. This is part of his all-in mentality.

He acknowledges that KSW could have provided very good financial conditions and major media exposure in Poland. However, he describes a persistent inner voice that he 'couldn't live with myself' if he did not take the risk to compete against the world's best. He emphasizes that this is a personal trait, not a judgment of others who stayed. The decision was made instantly after winning the belt: he told himself he must go to the UFC. Even if the UFC experiment fails, the mere fact of having tried is already worth more to him than any local success. He sees it as a question of conscience and ambition, saying that even if things went wrong, he would not be able to bear the thought of never having tried.

Wikłacz describes his constant internal process: he visualizes steps forward, two steps forward, different fight scenarios, especially the hardest moments. He argues that easy moments require no preparation—anyone can celebrate a knockout. The true test is when you are cut, have a broken nose, are exhausted, and the opponent is winning. He wants to have already 'lived' those moments in his head so that in the cage he can stay calm, task-oriented, and find the finish. This practice, combined with work with sports psychologists, allows him to remain composed and execute the right moves even when physically compromised. The goal is to transform panic into problem-solving.

He explains that the corner dynamic is about deep familiarity: his coaches know him, have been in his corner for many fights, and understand what he needs to hear. During the minute between rounds, the communication must be precise and trustworthy because a fighter is flooded with emotions and may not fully process everything. A coach who panics or gives confusing instructions can lose the fight. In his last fight with Przybysz, he suffered two cuts and a broken nose in round one. His coach, Bartas, came in and calmly told him the reality: 'You have two cuts, a broken nose, you have to work now—the doctor may stop this soon, so go for a takedown or find a finish.' That clear, unpanicked direction allowed Wikłacz to stay focused and produce a finish from nowhere. He would not change this corner for any other team because this trust is built over years.

He emphasizes that never once did he hear criticism like 'this is stupid' or 'why are you doing this.' Both his mother and father fully supported him since his early days in judo and MMA. This support was practical—buying equipment, attending fights—but never invasive. They never told him 'you have training today' or pressured him to perform. He was given freedom, which forced him to develop internal discipline and a drive to succeed. He contrasts this with young athletes who might hear discouraging remarks and have their path altered. This foundation of unconditional backing without pressure instilled a sense of security that allows him to take big risks now, knowing his family is always behind him. He also describes how they accept his pre-fight isolation: they know that if he calls once a month before a fight, that's fine.

Wikłacz explains that from the beginning, his sole target was the UFC, which has strict anti-doping rules. He knew that if he ever used PEDs, he would jeopardize that goal. People around him suggested he try something to level the playing field, but he never considered it seriously. He felt a sense of injustice fighting potentially doped opponents in KSW, which is why he pushed for testing there. Clean sport is important to him because he wants everyone treated equally. He connects this to his broader philosophy of doing things in line with his own values.