The center of myself

This was written about what my boxing gym means to me

My attention is drawn to their shoes that are soft and uneven with wear. The mesh is not pristine and the laces not shiny and new. They move around the ring in quick movements, pivoting away from one another and towards each other all at once.

The clothes are functional, but not in an Athleta catalogue kind of way, shorts and shirts, flowing with the movement of the body.

It's not for show, not a place you go to be seen wearing the right brand or the latest fabric. The alley entrance removes the prestige and pretension.

The smell of sweat and hope and gloves and wraps and dreams and leather bags and painted concrete combine to create a scent that is unique to this place. It's familiar and strange.

Hearts beat fast here, from excitement and nerves and hard work.

It's work time now.

Muscles are finding their limits and the people behind them are finding their edge. Minds are challenged from the combinations and steps to the right or left and back again. Signals from the nerves are sent to the body and oxygenated blood flows, hoping to find the right mixture of knowledge and momentum, making the body do it.

Breathe and spit with every extension of your arms and legs and fake.
Defend your pretty face and keep your hands up, hold your ground, push, take it.

Use your power, it comes from the bottom up, it comes from within. Balance your weight and don't lean...on me or him or her or too far forward or too far back.

Check your s**t at the door, it's not personal. Let the critiques roll off your back like water, like the sweat that's seeping out of your pores and running down your face. But first, listen, learn. Make it better the next time.

Fill your heart with the praise of a well landed and executed sequence. Use that encouragement to fill your tank, to find the strength to keep going, to get better, to find your edge.

The fatigue begins to set in, the thirst that has been building for the past 75 minutes is screaming to be watered. You hope work time is done and yet you want it to last forever. It's fun in a sick kind of way.

Then the breath slows again, your mouth is wet again, your heart slows again. The adrenaline that has been released is pulsing through your body, life source energy free and roaming around your blood stream, reminding you that you are alive and have survived.

And yet you are changed in some way. Physically, mentally, spiritually, energetically. Like an oil change, the space and the work have taken away the sharp filings of your toxic day and filled you up with clean, clear, slick insides.

You are no longer on the ropes, but in the center of yourself again.

Each time you come back, after the pain of muscles worked to their max subsides, your strength builds. Perhaps not your talent for the sport, but your strength, in every way. You leave behind things you don't need and build on what you have.

It's Life affirming and pure. Understanding builds like the muscles in your body, the reason for this move, this drill, this place.

Endurance and passion for life, confidence that you can do it.
That You can do anything.
That you are ok.
That. I. Am. Ok.
That I am enough.

Author's Note

Any feedback welcome

Reviews

[Don't just B, but B ama..]

Great descriptions and analogies. Thanks for sharing. Happy Holidays to all.