From Weakling to Warrior

So, I walked into a boxing gym.  It was exactly as I had imagined - dim lighting, ring in the middle, assorted bags hanging from exposed rafters, smelling of sweat and leather.  Bewildered, nervous, and fighting feelings to flee, I looked for the manager while trying to avoid eye contact with the monsters in there smashing their fists against whatever they could.  

I was thinking the whole time "Don't look them directly in the eye", as if the other boxers were rabid dogs waiting to tear me apart.  I could almost feel them looking at me and saying to one another "more fresh meat."

Because that's what fighters do.  Every person is a potential opponent.  You enter their territory and their first thoughts rank you as a potential threat.  I guarantee I did not even make a blip on their threat radars, with the level of confidence I had walking into that place.

The Lion's Den
Photo by Miserable Moo

Eventually I found the manager who was with the head trainer.  Unbelievably, they both looked like they were right out of a Rocky movie.  Every stereotype and idea I had about boxing gyms was coming true right in front of my eyes.  Next thing you know, I'd be in the ring, and then carried out on a stretcher.

Up to this point, I had been in one fight in my life and it didn't go good for me.  So, to walk into this gym felt like walking unarmed into a den of lions.  To say I was unprepared for what was about to happen is an understatement.

I feebly explained to the manager that I wanted to learn how to box.  He had seen it all before, took my $30, and threw me a couple of handwraps which he eventually showed me how to put on after I spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what the hell to do with them.

Like it or not, a lot of boxing gyms have pecking orders.  It was particularly obvious in this gym.  Trainers will train people they think they can develop into champions and until you prove yourself, you are nothing.  Like neglected children, you will fight for time and attention or fade into the background.

And then I joined the class...

People were civil, but there was tension.  It was undeniable and obvious that all eyes were on me as I went through the motions.  All those rabid dogs were looking for mistakes, weakness, strengths.  They knew at some point, they would be standing across from me in the ring -- and anticipated the inevitable moment when they would devour me.

Incredibly, they got their chance a lot sooner than expected.  That same day in fact, the trainer strapped boxing gloves on me for the first time in my life and put me in the ring against a seasoned boxer.  To say I didn't know what I was doing is generous.  I had no clue how to defend myself.

I didn't last a round and any confidence I had that I wanted to learn boxing was knocked completely out of me.  Bleeding and sore, I climbed out of the ring after the trainer put an end to the sparring session.

I was pissed off, angry and resentful.  What the hell was he thinking putting me in the ring that first day.  I came there to learn, not to fight... and that's about the time I realized what had happened.

Wait a Minute...

I walked into that gym, that den of fighters, with the intentions of learning and training, but I had no intention of fighting.  I did not walk into that gym as a warrior.  I walked in submissive and defeated long before I ever got in the ring.  He could have put me up against Pee Wee Herman and the outcome would have been the same.  For the first time in my life, I felt that warrior spirit.  The instinct to flee was gone.  It was replaced by self directed anger and an intense desire to get back in the ring and actually fight - to prove myself to this man who arbitrarily decides who is going to make it and who isn't.

I stayed in that gym for three hours after the end of that first session and watched the trainer with the "chosen" boxers, showing them techniques and drills.  They were the accepted boxers.  The ones who had a shot.  I stood next to the ring in plain view staring him down, daring him to say something, daring him to invite me back into the ring.

It never happened.  The adrenaline eventually subsided and I went home, but the next time I walked into that gym, the story starts differently.  I walked in sizing up the other boxers.  I longed for eye contact.  I longed for the chance to get across from someone - anyone.  Win or Lose.  I walked into that gym with intentions of fighting, not just to train and learn.

That trainer took a scared kid with no focus and in one session gave him the desire to become a warrior.  I will be forever thankful for that.

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