My leg hurts. But the pain reminds me of my day. I sit in my room tonight icing several parts of my body, yet I am in awe.
It was my second day of boxing practice. The first day I had been too concerned with not dying. But the past 6hours I spent amongst a group of Gods most eloquently created creatures. Buff and sculpted, these boys are pure muscle. I trained, than I stopped to watch the scene around me unfold.
The gym is outdoors, not big and quite dusty, it contains three punching bags that have been used and abused. The remainder of the floor is covered by the two boxing rings occupied with several pairs of boys fighting at a time. And in the few square feet of space that is left I watch people stretch, warmup, wrap their hands etc.
The trainers sit, lounging as they pass around cigarettes. Occasionally orders are shouted out, and they walk over to adjust a technique. Sweating (&boy was there alot of sweat), we repeat and repeat until it feels right. Hours pass and everything slows down.
Smoke drifts over, people start fooling around, the older boys gang up on the younger ones, tieing them down &dragging them around the gym. Sometimes they cry, but always they come back for revenge.
At varying paces, we gather around the main ring. Sitting, stretching, flexing, conversations begin in pairs but before we know it, there is a shared joke that has everyone included in the laughter. It was a long and painful day, but as I gather my belongs and head home, I can guarantee I’ll be back again tomorrow.