A man never knows what he’s made of until he gets punched. I’d taken plenty of martial arts, and sparring in a dojo was very controlled and normally done at half-speed. But this wasn’t a dojo. He threw a jab that managed to sneak between my upraised hands and connect with my nose. And it was not at half-speed. It was so fast I didn’t see his hand until he was pulling it away from my face. Boxing is controlled violence. It is technique. It is the mastery of punches and angles that are honed to precision by countless hours of training. I got mad. Very mad. Anger won’t get you through a fight.It will, however, get you into one.You don’t know what you’re made of until you get punched. And whether that punch comes by standing in the middle of a boxing ring or the middle of a life, you survive the same way. You keep your chin down, you keep moving, and you never stop swinging. We’re all going to get hit sooner or later. It’s a given in this world. But I know this. I can take a punch. I’ve taken many. But I can give one, too.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Jul 2013 18:33:58 +0000