My last night in the ring... How it feels to fight  

Mackey05 40F
508 posts
4/1/2005 6:22 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

My last night in the ring... How it feels to fight


Two years ago I stopped kickboxing. I had my share of injuries and at one point suffered a concussion and optic nerve damage which healed and gave me my peripherial vision back. I walked away from the sport because I like my brain and wanted to be able to function normally and love my body enough to not want to develop more problems. Someday I want to have kids and be the mommy who can run around and keep up with them and bend down to pick them up without my knees giving out. As far away as 2 years ago is, I have always had a great memory and remember it just like it is yesterday. Here are my thoughts, feelings, and what I experienced my final night...

I sat there in the locker room with my hands taped fully dressed in my tank top, sports bra and shorts. I stared at a spot on the floor trying to mentally prepare myself. I had stretched for over an hour, did a quick workout with the heavy bag to break a sweat and now was the most important preparation... Bringing out the warrior... I thought of my childhood... Being picked on and beat up by the other kids for being tall and lanky, for being a red head, for being shy. I remembered being abused by my church's pastor and his son. I thought of how angry the hypocrasy of religious people made me angry... Always being hypocrates and twisting everything to make others feel bad and fit their own agenda... I remembered things my father said to me that hurt and can never be taken back... Being picked on in high school.. Standing up for myself in high school and making everyone scared of me for the following 3 years.. Remembered seeing the bloody face of my best friend in high school after her father had beaten her again.. I remember stealing her away to safety in the middle of the night and him holding a gun to my head.. The image of finding my best friend in college dead after he had shot himself to death... The affiar...Yes the affair. I am a terrible person for sleeping with a married man... I hurt his wife and children, they don't know but if they did it would destroy them.. I deserve the hurt I'll feel tonight... All the men who hurt me, lied, said and did terrible things... Over and over again I played it all in my head feeling the rage build second by second.

I can't let the rage consume me. If I do I can't think in the ring. I'll flail and come out like an untamed bull and loose. I did that once and it was the only time I lost. Time to separate.... Body is angry.. No, body is rage but my mind must stay calm and focused. There... I am there.. It's time to go... I feel my chest heaving as I look in the mirror hearing a knock on the door. I see the pain and anger in my eyes but my soul is calm. I am ready. It is time to make her feel my pain.

I always hated the walk to the ring. All the white trash hooting and hollering as my opponent and I paraded to the fight. Some ignorant idiots yelling, "Hey dyke!" others, "Bitch I could fuck you up"... He bad was easier to hear amongst the cheers and clapping. I would ignore them and not look at a single person, just keep my eyes on the ring as it grew closer with each step.

My oppoonent was taller than me. Her black skin and corn rows were all oily and she eyeballed me up and down shouting with the slur that comes with having a mouth guard in,"Bitch I gonna fuck you up white ass cracka! You goin' down ho!" Never give a mouth the satisfaction of a response. Just stare back... Be silent and don't let it get to you. Keep the soul sound and body in rage. Never loose the sepatarion or things will blur and the focus is gone.

The bell rings and she comes out swinging. I duck a few times looking for a hole..Trying to read her movements and see if she is telegraphing. She's good and fights tight, good technique. I let her connect a few times. My chest stings and my jaw popped the first time she hit me. Wait... Wait... She is gassing already... Poor conditioning.. I connect with her outside left knee smashing my shin into her leg. I repeat and follow through with a knee to her left midsection. I lost my focus and she connects with a right hook to my face. I push her back into the ropes as I hit her openly with a left jab. She starts telegraphing by dropping her opposite shoulder before kicking. I read and block then hit with a combo... Left elbow left fist, right knee. She cringes and kicks wildly. I let loose a hard right uppercut.. YES! I found the spot.. Her weakness... She looks dazed and I can see the fear in her eyes. I go it again and follow through with an elbow then an a reverse hit in the cheek. She staggers backwards trying to cover her head with both gloves. I drive my knee into her abs right below her rib cage knocking all the air out of her and she starts to fall forward. I hook her in the face with my left and push her back into the ropes.... If I knock her down she is going to stay down... No clear path to the mat for you.. I am going to keep you up and make you hurt and let you know NEVER SHOOT YOUR MOUTH OFF AT ME! Actions speak so much louder.. I'm owning her and beating her with no mercy keeping the separation of my mind and body by not letting my hatred and rage take over...Okay a few more hits... Wait.. 18 seconds... Hard uppercuts... She can't defend them because she is too tired.. They should call it this second... Nope... Letting it go.. 14 seconds... I hear my gloves connect with each blow and watch as her eyes start rolling back. It's over... One last hook... I give everything I have to my right fist, arm and shoulder... BAM!! I take two steps back and she falls forward taking a hard hedder into the mat.

The exhaustion catches up with me and I am living in my body now.. Not using my mind... I feel my chest heave and my heart pounding like a metal drummer. She's not moving... I stand there with my hands at my sides because I can't bring them up.... I don't know how I am supposed to stand during the count... I stare at her daring her to get up but not projecting it with my body... 9.....10..... It's over... My hand is raised as a bunch of black people in the front row throw pop corn and insults at me. Mixed response from the crowd and I don't care.. I'm done.... No more...

I make my way back to my locker room through the crowd ignoring everyone. My family is not there because they don't know I am doing this and would not approve... My friends aren't either... They always have wanted to see me fight but I didn't want them too. I was afraid they would become scared of me. As violent and angry as I was in the ring it is not my nature... Don't want them to think that because they see the best of me... The kind, caring, good friend who is always there.. The one you can always count on..

I pull off my gloves and pick the drenched tape off my hands.. The adrenaline is gone and I can feel it all... I think my ribs are broken on the left side again.. Once you break them there is always a weakness... I bend over and can feel the cartilage pop.. Yes, broken... The sweat in my eyes burn and my jaw hurts like hell. I look at the mirror to see the swelling. Luckily I didn't get hit one more time in the left eye because I was getting a mouse ear and it would have split... My hands are red and achy. I know it'll be hard to grip the steering wheel to drive home after I take my shower and change.

mygmyg 60M

4/2/2005 10:03 am

Mackey, great story, writing tremendous, incredible description of how you tapped into your rage and then utilize your mind to control the release of the rage.

The ability to control/utilize/separate your physical skills and hold them in check shows great discipline and maturity. Incredible mental training on your part. Knowing how and when to push yourself to the edge, the mental balance of letting loose with intelligence to focus the talent.

Perception of you, by friends, would certainly be altered, wise decision.

Enjoyed very much.


sportyfun56 107M

4/4/2005 7:51 am

Mackey... thanks for the look inside.
The end of a carreer in athletics (as athlete) is a deep personal thing. The "hanging up of the gloves", or "shoes", or whatever can come for many reasons. Wanting to end the pain and be able to walk and function normally past middle age is a real issue. But the internal competitor and love of competition will always be there. And the knowledge of what the sacrifices were to compete can be a torment.
But if after it all you can say "I wouldn't have done any differently and I'm not sorry I did it." then you can have contentment and satisfaction with what you did.

Sporty


rm_bluegenes51 57M
245 posts
4/20/2005 10:53 am

ENjoyed the story very much...agree with "But if after it all you can say "I wouldn't have done any differently and I'm not sorry I did it." then you can have contentment and satisfaction with what you did.
" from above. THanks for sharing


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