I sit writing this with a blackened left eye and a long, but shallow scratch down my cheekbone.
I wear them with pride because they represent over four months of hard work that came to fruition at the Hit2Fit charity boxing event this past Saturday.
Since January, a group of local residents – almost none of whom had ever set foot in the ring before – trained with admirable dedication, putting the work in four or more days a week. The results were impressive both in terms of the fitness gains and in how quickly they picked up the fundamentals of a very technical and intimidating sport.
Five bouts at the gala event held in the Salmon Arm Secondary Gym on Saturday night featured Hit2Fit participants squaring off against each other and another two saw local boxers taking on out-of-town competition.
I had the pleasure of boxing David Brosseau, a teacher at Salmon Arm Secondary who was my friend and former roommate long before he was my opponent in the ring.
When the bell sounded and the first round of the match began, I was in the ring alone with my opponent, but I never felt I wasn’t part of a team. My fellow Hit2Fit participants and Bulldogs Boxing Club members were cheering me on from the sidelines. They were standing in my corner and shouting valuable advice and encouragement. They were there for the months of training leading up to Saturday’s event, helping coach each other through the often frustrating and sometimes painful process of learning to box.
Although I had some experience with the sport from last year’s Hit2Fit event, the learning curve remained steep throughout the training. Self-doubt was a constant companion along the way, but inspiration was easy to come by. Each of my fellow Hit2Fit participants overcame their own struggles on the way to their goals, whether those were improved fitness or stepping into the ring. There was something unique to learn from everyone who showed up for the workouts and sparring sessions leading up to Saturday’s bouts.
At the final bell I felt more exhaustion than I believed three, one minute-long rounds could produce. Some combination of heavy breathing and well-placed body shots caused me to faintly taste blood in my mouth. The flood of adrenaline that coursed through my veins began to subside and my eyes slowly adjusted from tunnel vision, seeing no further than the ropes of the ring, to take in the cheering crowd beyond.
I felt the pride even before the referee raised my hand naming me the victor. The result of the match was of secondary importance to the funds raised for deserving local charities and the steps towards mastery over mind and body I took along the way.
Funds I raised are going to support a local child with cancer and his family.
The bruises will fade, but the pride isn’t going anywhere.
