Raw Truths From The Brink Of Death – Ben Askren

Askren woke up after 37 days unable to walk, feed himself, or even get off the toilet. He lost 60 lbs, mostly muscle. His recovery was not linear; he had setbacks like a chest tube infection that put him back in the hospital for two weeks. He set micro-goals: first, walk 8 minutes, then 10, then 12. Later, he added squats—initially he couldn't stand up from a toilet without help. He emphasizes that even now, 11 months out, he rarely feels 'really good,' but he still trains. If he feels bad at 10 a.m., he'll work out at 2 p.m. He does breathing exercises and other medical tasks daily without fail. This discipline comes directly from his wrestling career, where showing up and doing the work regardless of how you feel was ingrained.

Askren, facing a double lung transplant and lifelong immunosuppression, had countless questions. He turned to ChatGPT as a first-pass research tool. He would ask a question, get a detailed answer, then bring that information to his doctor, saying, 'Here's what I'm gathering. What do you think about this?' He found that ChatGPT was correct about 70-80% of the time, but there were notable errors, so cross-referencing was non-negotiable. This method allowed him to have more productive conversations with his medical team and feel a sense of agency in his recovery.

Askren recounts a survey he conducted with a sports psychology PhD, sent to every Division I NCAA champion over 50 years. One question was 'When did you go from good to great?' The most common answer was a variation of 'I never reached greatness.' These athletes, in the 99.999th percentile, didn't see themselves as great because they were always focused on the next improvement. Askren himself, during his 87-match win streak, never thought about the streak—he only thought about how to beat the next opponent as badly as possible. He contrasts this with wrestlers who win a sectional title and think they're 'really good,' then plateau. The phrase 'if you're green, you're growing' captures it: maintaining a beginner's mindset keeps you improving; thinking you know enough starts decline.

Askren breaks down the math: 1 year of training before a first amateur fight, 2 years of amateur fights, 2-3 years of low-level pro fights, then if everything goes perfectly for 6 years, you sign with the UFC. In your first UFC year, if you win all your fights, you make about $80,000. After paying your gym, manager, and taxes, you take home $35,000-$40,000 (less in California). That's after 7 years of perfection. He contrasts this with the unrealistic expectations of parents who bring kids to MMA gyms hoping they'll become rich TV stars. He did it because he loved fighting, not for money. He advises that unless someone has that same irrational drive, they should choose a different profession.

Askren explains that after a transplant, the body sees the new organ as foreign and attacks it. To prevent this, he must permanently suppress his immune system. This is why he wears a mask in public—a practice he used to mock—and avoids crowded places where he can't control his surroundings. The level of immunosuppression is gradually reduced as time passes and the body stabilizes, which improves energy and reduces side effects. He notes that these drugs are a major reason the median life expectancy for lung transplant patients is only 6.5 years, because a weakened immune system leads to other problems. He hopes that future stem-cell-grown organs could eliminate the need for these drugs.

Askren defines talent as the ability to do a complex task really well without high-level training, which he believes is impossible. He argues that human bodies have predispositions (e.g., fast-twitch vs. slow-twitch fibers), but complex skills require a large basket of attributes—work ethic, desire, intellect, hand-eye coordination—and no one needs all of them. He uses the example of two seven-year-olds who have never wrestled: one sedentary and overfed, the other active with older brothers and a healthy lifestyle. They are 'worlds apart' before any training, showing that early environment is often mistaken for talent. He cites the Polgar sisters, whose father deliberately raised them to be chess champions, and Iditarod sled dogs bred for desire to run, not speed or strength. In wrestling, he was exceptionally slow (5.8-second 40-yard dash) but found a way to win, while explosive wrestlers succeed differently. The key is that the 'basket' of needed traits is large, and you can pick and choose which ones to develop.

Askren says that if he had died when he walked into the hospital, he would have had 'a great life.' He loved his work coaching wrestlers, had a strong marriage, and felt his priorities were already good. The near-death experience didn't make him realize he was on the wrong path; instead, it made him more patient, more grateful, and more intentional about time. He references the Peaky Blinders line 'everything after that was extra' to describe his current mindset. He learned the median life expectancy for double lung transplant recipients is only 6.5 years, but he believes his athletic baseline and health will let him beat that; his goal is to surpass the 38-year record and live to 80. He is even willing to undergo another transplant if stem-cell-grown organs become available, to escape immunosuppressants. This 'extra time' mentality has led him to shed business involvements that weren't passionate, prioritize coaching and family, and say no to opportunities that don't align with his core values.

Askren describes himself as a 'heavy heavy chat GPT user.' He uses it to ask questions about his condition, gathers information, and then brings that information to his doctor for validation. He estimates ChatGPT is correct 70-80% of the time, but he always cross-references because 'there's a few things where it kind of really gets it wrong.' This approach allows him to be an informed patient, asking better questions and understanding his treatment options. He doesn't rely on it blindly; the doctor remains the final authority. This method reflects his athletic mindset of seeking every edge and taking ownership of his recovery.

Askren realized that even a monthly meeting with a founder was time taken from his family and his true passion—coaching wrestlers. He approached several business partners and asked to be bought out on fair terms, simply to remove items from his plate. He now applies a strict filter to new opportunities: 'Is this what I really really really 100% want to do with my life? Is this worth the time away from my kids and my family?' If the answer is no, he declines. This is a direct application of the 'extra time' philosophy, ensuring that his limited years are spent on what matters most.