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Undergraduate student balances passion for high-risk combat sports with neuroscience studies, aiming to make mixed martial arts safer for all fighters

Michel Jarjour knows what it’s like to love something that could hurt him. �� �� Even after years of avid mixed martial arts (MMA) fandom, the third-year undergraduate student at the �鶹��Ѱ����� still finds the UFC scary. “You look at these fights, and they’re getting kicked and punched to the head. It’s terrifying.”��

Though an active participant himself in both Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Muay Thai at the �鶹��Ѱ�����Boulder Rec Center, Jarjour insists that a career in professional fighting is off the table. “You’re putting your body through hell and back. You’re taking so much damage,” says Jarjour. “I’m not willing to give my life to that… My brain is a little important [to me].”��

A junior on the pre-health track, Jarjour is pursuing a degree in neuroscience with minors in Spanish, sports media and biochemistry. He balances his studies and involvement in the Miramontes Arts and Sciences Program with his passion for high-risk combat sports, which he shares with listeners in a live monthly radio show on Radio 1190, Join the Octagon. “There is something so beautiful, something so adrenaline-based about the live commentary that I absolutely love,” he says.��

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Michel Jarjour is a rising senior on the pre-health track, pursuing a degree in neuroscience with minors in Spanish, sports media and biochemistry. (Photo: Michel Jarjour)

Beyond the octagon

Since Fall 2024, Jarjour’s radio show has covered main card, pay-per-view UFC events that occur roughly once a month. In January, the. Jarjour shares that these changes have led to scheduling disruptions that have put Join the Octagon��on a temporary pause. “It’s unfortunate,” he says, “and it’s also made me recognize that I want to do more with the Join the Octagon���������Ի�.”

Jarjour credits the leadership skills he has gained as director of���鶹��Ѱ�����GOLD with helping him guide Join the Octagon��in new, expanded directions. �鶹��Ѱ�����GOLD, which stands for “Gaining Opportunities through Leadership Development,” is a free leadership development program that is open to all �鶹��Ѱ�����students. Beyond events and conferences, the program provides both introductory and advanced leadership courses.��

After leading a group of over fifteen people at �鶹��Ѱ�����GOLD, Jarjour says he is confident that he can effectively manage a team and delegate tasks. With a recently assembled��team of like-minded volunteers tackling everything from marketing to betting analysis to social media, an is now under construction, and plans for a research-backed podcast are in the works.��

With the new, extended platform, Jarjour strives explore UFC events through the lens of his others passions: “I would love to combine my love for neuroscience with my love for UFC and MMA, and the best way I’m going to that is either by have a conversation [and] putting it into the show, the podcast, the radio show, social media, whatever, and [then], by becoming a sports neurologist.”

'I want to become a sports neurologist'

The UFC, which was��, is still a relatively new organization. For MMA fighters, medical practitioners and combat sports enthusiasts alike, growing fears parallel the growing awareness of the long-term effects of brain damage.

Jarjour, who has been tuned into the UFC for years, addresses the difficulty of watching a former MMA fighter’s health deteriorate in real time: “You can just tell [something is wrong by] the way they’re talking and acting, and it’s scary… UFC fans are seeing [the] news and are generally worried.”�� �� �� ������

As a sports neurologist, Jarjour says he hopes to help UFC fighters recover from persistent symptoms associated with traumatic brain injuries. While some medical doctors for the UFC serve ringside, making calls on whether a fighter is stable enough to compete and continue a fight, Jarjour stresses that his pursuits transcend octagon-side intervention.

“It’s not just a split-[second] decision that I want to make. It’s an ‘I want to be able to be in your life and help you out and make sure that you’re living a long and healthy life’ [kind of thing].”��

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Michel Jarjour rappels down the side of a skyscraper. (Photo: Michel Jarjour)

In addition to his interest in sports neurology, Jarjour is minoring in Spanish, with the hope of connecting with more of his patients on a deeper level: “I would love to be a Spanish-speaking doctor who can help not only English-speaking patients, but also immigrants from Hispanic countries and Latino countries, to be able to make them feel more comfortable throughout the entire medical process.”

While Jarjour says his interest in the medical field in general began in middle school, the choice to pursue higher education was solidified in the summer after his senior year of high school. In the middle of the night, he recounts waking up to a knock at the door and the sight of his distressed neighbor. “[I’d] never interacted with her in my life,” he says, “but she’s clearly in a state of panic, and she’s like, help. Please, help. My husband is on the ground, I have no idea what to do… so I go over to the house, call 911, make sure that he’s comforted, okay and breathing and all that.”

Around twelve hours after the paramedics arrived to take Jarjour’s neighbor to the hospital for treatment, Jarjour and his mom went to check in. He recounts that moment in the hospital: “I sit down with him and talk with him for a while, and I hear about his life story and the experience and all that. And then a few weeks later, I go to his house, and I find out that he's been consistently going to the hospital ever since that moment, and [he] told me that he trusted me more than the doctors that he's been going and talking to. And I told him, well, you still need to trust your doctors. I'm not a doctor. Don't listen to me entirely. Go listen to the medical professionals.

“But at the same time, there was something about that. He basically said that I'm taking the time to listen to him and connect with him and understand what he's going through, and the fact that he said that–�� [it] was the last, final pillar that I needed to reassure myself, especially before going into university, a big, pivotal moment of my life, it was the last pillar that reassured me that medicine was for me.”

A surge of adrenaline

In high school, Jarjour spent two years on the Arapaho Rescue Patrol, a team of volunteer high-school students that responds to emergency calls in the Front Range. While Jarjour says the patrol teaches very basic medical knowledge, on that night when his neighbor was in need, it was more than helpful.��

“I found myself realizing consistently that the medical component of the patrol was one of, if not my favorite, part of the patrol,” says Jarjour. “I love the rescuing; I love the searching. I love the hiking and camping and all that. But the medical component was always what drew me in.”��

Beyond helping others through medical intervention, he admits that he loves the adrenaline rush. “I think I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie… Any time that [search and rescue] alarm goes off, you are just pumped with adrenaline, and it’s something I’ve always appreciated.”

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Michel Jarjour (front, black cap) with colleagues recording a program for Radio 1190. (Photo: Michel Jarjour)

That ability to respond to pressure at a moment’s notice has been essential for his duties as an RA. In his experience, Jarjour has found that “a lot of people don’t like the ‘responding to incidents’ component of the position because it’s stressful, it’s tiring. You know, it could be the middle of the night, and you don’t want to be doing that.” Yet Jarjour says he appreciates the call to action: “I love [getting] the phone call… there’s something going on, please respond. I do appreciate that adrenaline rush. And, obviously, I want to make sure everyone’s safe. I’m not wishing for anyone’s downfall… I do like helping people out. It’s a very fundamental value of mine, just helping people out. And so, that’s what I’ve loved about the RA position–I’ve been able to do that.

“I’ve responded to poop on the floor, I’ve responded to residents vomiting, I’ve responded to people dead in the mountains. Especially since I want to be a doctor, I’m probably going to see the worst of the worst issues.”��

'My love, my life, my hobby'

A key to navigating his very full calendar and the high-intensity situations to which he is drawn has been an awareness of and care for his mental health. “One thing that I tell people when they ask me (how I do it) is, find your Thing.” For Jarjour, the one activity that makes it all work for him is Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. “I’ve been doing it for 11 years of my life, and it is [the Thing]. It’s never going to end. I tell myself all the time,” says Jarjour, “Jiu-Jitsu is the one thing that I will do until the day I die. It’s my love, it’s my life, it’s my hobby.”

A hobby with risks…

At the age of 11, during a practice with the adult class, Jarjour learned how risky. “Someone rolled me, placed my hand on the mat, just [acting on] instincts, and crack, crack, crack.”

The aftermath was four broken fingers on his right hand, which he recalls were “floppy” and extremely painful. Yet, after about four months of healing, Jarjour was back in the gym with his parents’ full support: “I’ve just been a very athletic and energetic kid my entire life… [my parents] never really told me, like, hey, you’re not going back. They loved the community; they loved the gym.”��

With support from his parents, Jarjour continued to immerse himself in Jiu-Jitsu: “The beauty of Jiu-Jitsu,” says Jarjour, “is that you think you learn it, you know a technique, and you know all there is behind one position and then boom, there’s about 700 million other techniques just for that one position alone. And then you find out there’s hundreds of positions that you can be in.” He likens the sport to a game of chess: “You have to be able to move your piece, know what each move could do, and at the same time, predict what your opponent’s going to do.”

These mental gymnastics happen every moment throughout a fight. Yet, within the confines of the controlled, regulated gym space, Jarjour finds the high-intensity sport relieving: “I’ve gone back through my middle school and high school years, [and] all that stress would have really put a toll on my mental health, as well as the fact that I’ve gone through traumatic events, tough moments with the patrols, for example, all of these super high-stress, impacting events. And the reason why I am able to sit in front of you right now, and [say], I’m more than okay and I’m happy in life is because I found my Thing.”

He adds that it may be the sport, it may be the community, it may be a blend between the two, “but I know for a fact that I will never leave that sport because of how much it’s impacted my life. I’ve walked into the gym, and I felt terrible. I’ve walked in saying I don’t want to go. I’ve walked in with tears in my eyes. I’ve walked in having experienced–I’ll get real with you for a second–a school shooting, and I’ve come out every time from those experiences feeling so much better.”

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