Notes from the Imaginary Ring

I love to hit.  I found myself trying to explain this to a friend yesterday.  He is a relaxed guy who definitely experiences anger and fear, and talks himself through those emotions in a constructive way.  He cannot understand how I can enjoy hitting as much as I do.

I love to make contact—either with a pad my sparring partner is holding, or with a nice, heavy bag—and I love to make contact over and over again, throwing jabs, crosses, hooks, and upper cuts.  I love to roll under a hay maker, to slip by a fast punch, ducking low into a squat, tucking my chin and bobbing down, or twisting from the waist, holding my gloves high against my cheeks to protect my face.  The smack-boom-thunk-smack-boom-thunk of my gloved fists as they slam into the heavy bag are my own rock-and-roll tune that plays in rhythm to my heart’s beat; heavy exhalations add harmony to this intimate song of release.  Give me three or four combos and I will hit you a rock opera of anger, frustration and release that will knock you out.

The brawl punch—now that is something else again.  I stand in a wide stance, almost a side lunge.  Left foot forward, toe pointing straight ahead, right foot back and to the side, toe pointing out.  Left arm extends down toward the floor with the hand flexed and fingers straight and at knee-height, as if holding someone down on the floor.  The right hand, curled into a tight fist, pulls back up to the right shoulder and then, with a bend to the back knee and a twist of the hips and waist, the fist flies down, slamming, again and again.  Right hand up to the shoulder, dip, twist, and hit.  Slowly, then faster and faster, until the sweat flies from my arms, runs down my back, blinds my eyes.  I stand up and lift the edge of my tank top to wipe my face.  I turn around, set up, and brawl punch on the other side, letting my stronger left arm go to town until the sweat flies again.

Kickboxing, BodyCombat, Kenpo karate, sparring.  I cannot believe these are part of my fitness routine on a regular basis.  I am a happy person with a wonderful husband and family.  I let the all the junk that negative people toss at me roll off my back, or shoulders, or wherever that stuff is supposed to roll off of me when it hits.  I meditate (mostly while I run).  I do a lot of thinking about life, humanity and  theology.  I really don’t get angry.  Yet I find that throwing punches releases an awful lot of anger.  And frustration.  And I find that throwing punches also releases fear and anxiety.  Throwing punches clears up some serious space.  It’s as if with every punch, the negative energy is thrust out from me and gone.  Just gone.  Until the next time.

I have studiously read about fighting—about boxing, mixed martial arts and more—and have discovered it is not necessarily  about violence.  It is about form and finesse.  About fitness and health. It is about skill, speed, and hard work.  It is about bringing your best.  It is about release in a controlled environment.  And I have learned that releasing all that negative emotion leaves room in me for more patience, more pleasure, more love.  And more room for appreciating all the good and beauty in my world.

So, back to my friend.  As I try to translate all the feelings I have and release when I hit, he begins to get a certain look in his eyes.  It is not a look of  just beginning to grasp what I am saying, but one of complete understanding.  I see emotions cross his face, then I see him deciding that this may be something he is interested in learning.  He has some physical challenges, and my mind begins to race as I try to think of how he might find enough balance in his body to hit and get the satisfaction I have promised by description.  As we begin to talk about how he might be able to hit and how good (translation:  EXCELLENT) it is going to be, I am plotting how to prop him up against a wall so that he can try brawl punches.  I have a feeling he is going to love it.

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2 Comments on “Notes from the Imaginary Ring”

  1. videocreed Says:

    Now I know why little kids and many adults who can not express themselves effectively resort to hitting. Sounds like it is a great outlet.


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