It wasn't always the opponents in the ring that most severely challenged boxer Brian Viloria's perseverance and dedication.

Truth be told, sometimes it has been the dogs he encountered on his regular 5-mile runs through the North Hollywood, Calif., streets and parks, where he trains, that provided the toughest tests of his resolve and endurance.

"When you're out running, they think you are invading their territory or you're teasing them and they chase after you," Viloria said. "Then you really have to really run, jump over fences, do whatever you can do to make sure they don't take a bite out of you. You know you risk your life in the ring when you fight, but this ... "

At times like these, Viloria said he would tell himself, " 'OK, this has to count for something, right? I mean, there's a reason I'm going through all of this."

Viloria won the World Boxing Council light flyweight title with a thundering first-round knockout Saturday night, but the suddenness of the triumph belies a success 16 painstaking years in the making.

Hawai'i's first world title since 1989 is the dividend on years of paying dues one arduous day at a time in the gym, on the road and in the ring.

As an 8-year-old in Waipahu, Viloria recalls lacing up boxing gloves the size of pillows, then raising his hands over his head and proclaiming himself, " 'The new champion of the world!' "

"That was my dream, then," Viloria said. How smooth and simple it seemed.

"At that age you don't know how tough a sport it really is," Viloria said.

Watching Jesus Salud, another Waipahu Boxing Club graduate, who won the World Boxing Association super-bantamweight crown, Hawai'i's last, 16 years ago, taught Viloria what might be possible with hard work and discipline.

Since then, in an amateur career that took him to the Olympics and opened pro doors, Viloria has readily made sacrifices at every stop, investing on a career with no guarantees.

He gave up other sports to concentrate on boxing and put aside easy times to submit himself to the demands of his sport. He put everything into making the Olympic team only to be disappointed in Sydney, where he did not medal.

He redoubled his efforts as a pro, moving to the Mainland so he could get quality sparring partners. Then, four years into his pro career, he all but swore off chicken adobo, one of his mother Rose's specialities, and other favorite foods so he could drop down a weight class at 108 pounds, the better to get a championship shot.

He would look deep inside himself and question a lot of things about his profession when Ruben Contreras, the opponent who could have died after their bout, was hospitalized with a brain injury.

So, when Eric Ortiz went down, the result of a powerful blow to the chin, and the referee stopped Saturday's championship fight, Viloria said he knew the triumph was about more than one night.

"This was the gold medal (in the Olympics); this was about a lot of things and all the hard work for a long time."

Reach Ferd Lewis at flewis@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8044.