Boxing

The first part was originally hand-written in Catalan

Why Do I Box?

It’s a question I often ask myself.

I don’t do it for the reasons one would imagine:

• I don’t care about the ‘aura’ it gives me
• It doesn’t help me relax
• Even though physical superiority makes me feel good, it doesn’t compensate for the bitter aftertaste of being the one who inflicts pain

This is what is most clear to me. Makes it hard to justify following through.

Every day, I wake up and go back to it.
Boxing forces me to face myself: am I enough, will I still show up knowing I’ll get hit, and do I have the competitive drive to keep improving.

Prologue

The boxing club is in the building across from where I live.
I used to look at it with curiosity.

Walking with a friend, the topic came up. I said I’d like to try it out.
My main reason was the nobility of the sport. Also, I thought knowing how to fight was worth something.

My friend said she couldn’t imagine me doing it. That I was incapable of hurting someone, and I’d lack the malice both to perform and to have the will to do it.

Beginning

Boxing has more technique than I expected. The first half of the year I didn’t fight. I remember when I asked for it, the first sparrings were light. People had good faith, and they wanted to help.

At this moment, I thought I was a decent fighter. I saw what I could improve on, and I was ready to work on it.
I was ecstatic about the decision of boxing, which so far confirmed the nobility of the sport.

Reality Check

The coach left, and a guy who trained with us, became the new coach.
He is one of the people I like most from everyone I’ve met. We’ve barely spoken outside of boxing, I know nothing about him.

The first painful sparring I remember was with a fat guy, who was as inexperienced as me, but didn’t have the blocker I have of not wanting to cause harm. I went a few days with a headache, and that was it.

Then an interclub came up, and with my coach’s encouragement I signed up. I approached it with a mix of desire and confidence, with the mentality of thanking the opponent to fight with me, to do a slightly harder sparring.
He went out to kill. I got hit, and I struggled to defend myself to reduce the damage.

That day, I wrote:

The fight was disappointing. I wasn’t beaten up, but I didn’t fight either. I could look for a thousand excuses, but there’s no need.
Noted for the next one to do better.

End?

Since the interclub, I’ve been boxing every day.

I had my nose broken, I’ve bled more times than I can count on one hand.
The worst moment was when I made the other bleed. Noticing it made me not throw any punches. I felt awful.

Now another interclub is coming. My trainer recommended I sign up. I did it.

To train for it, my coach invited me to a neighbour club to spar. It was tuesday.
That day I woke up, trained boxing, and the afternoon I went to the club. I got beaten up. They were better, and as a souvenir, they gave me pain dripping with blood.
I got home feeling like crying, what hurt most was the realization of my inferiority. I called my mom, couldn’t tell her as I didn’t want her to worry.
That night the pillow soothed my crying.

I have less desire and I am less confident, but I’m also more prepared than the first time.

Post Interclub

I crushed him. I was superior. If it were Sant Jordi, I would have made a rose out of his bleeding.

I am confused. On one hand, I am proud. On the other hand, I feel awful.
Between rounds I told my trainer that I didn’t want to hurt him. The fight was stopped a couple of times to wipe the blood off his nose. I didn’t hit him as much as I could.

It doesn’t make sense to continue boxing. The nobility is permanently stained of violence much like his white shirt with blood.

I don’t enjoy victories. I assume them. Maybe that’s why losses bother me so much.

Since I stopped competing at tennis, there was something uneasy within me. I wasn’t competitive, I accepted defeat.

Today I wanted to win.

I have shut down the inquietude, but I have sparked a fire inside me.

I want to compete.

Decision

Today I announced I was leaving the club. It was shocking to my trainer, but it felt right.

The main driver behind the decision is that I want to compete. Next step would be an amateur fight, but I don’t want to do it. I am not scared, but in boxing, higher level means more damage. I don’t want to inflict damage.

Also, I have ambitious goals in running and lifting, and going to box every day is not helping me reach them. Especially lifting heavy, as the tension of the fight fries my CNS.

Finally, I have always said that when I move out of my current flat, I would stop boxing, and I’ll likely leave in the next months.
I’m just getting ahead and making it my choice instead of waiting for life to take care of it.

Boxing has been a great reminder of who I am.
Ambitious, capable, and decisively naïve about how the world actually works.