The sweet science and the bitter pill

“WHAM!” Dazzling lights streaked across my vision and, in a sudden dilation of time, I had the thought “so this is why they call it ‘seeing stars””. Through my blurred vision, I saw my sparring partner mouth the words “Sorry man!” I staggered over to Coach Todd and noticed that he looked worried, which made me worry. “Are you alright?” he asked. Through my mouthpiece I mumbled “You tell me.” Although my right cheek was totally numb, I feared that shock had disguised a much more grievous wound. While my imagination conjured up images of hideous facial trauma, Coach informed me that I was officially “done”. Shaken, I stepped through the ropes and out of the ring. It took all of 30 seconds for me to go from feeling like a champ to chump.



Earlier that day, I had tried to talk myself out of going to the Saturday sparring session at Gym Rat Boxing. With only four hours of sleep and a full day of work under my belt, I was deliriously exhausted. Sensing weakness, my mind took the opportunity to offer up some tempting rationale. “There’s a company picnic today,” it whispered, “You should go network and eat pie”. The machinations of my fearful psyche gradually intensified and I was a hair’s breadth away from succumbing when I had a flash of insight. “Maybe I’m trying to avoid going because I know I need to go!” I silently exclaimed, “I’m resisting the inevitable hand of fate!” My desire to save face with the guys at Gym Rat in addition to my plans for watching the UFC 105 pay-per-view later that night probably had something to do with it too.



My sparring partner “Dave” had encouraged me to take it easy on him because he was an “old man”. While this was an obvious ruse, there was also a glaring hole in my defense that had heretofore gone unnoticed. I had the tendency to hold my right hand a little lower than would be prudent, and with a crisp left hook, Dave made this painfully obvious. Of course, Coach Todd has mentioned this to me before, (“You’re dropping your damn hand!”) but previous sparring partners had not created much of an incentive to really take this advice to heart.



I ended up finishing out the day humbled but determined. Not only did I earn my first-ever black eye, but I also came away with greater self confidence; as a fighter, a husband, an employee, and friend. I walked into the fire and got burned, but I would be back.

Fear factor

Uncertainties stir subconscious sediment,

Clouding the waters of the mind,



Anxiously watching the tick, tick, tock of the clock,

Drawing closer to the moment of doubt,


The urge is to escape.





Fear feeds on the unknown,

Watering a plot of weeds,



Merciless Anger lashes out,

Bleeding wounds can’t hide the pain,



The unseen itches.



A thread reaches through the maelstrom,

Finding purchase in the murky depths,



Courage wound with trepidation,

In stillness lies strength,



The crucible awaits.

An insect diaspora meets with disaster

What's war

Running circles ‘round the center

Drawing lines in the sand

Hiding fear deep in trenches

Issuing demands

Armored arms pounding war drums

Blood spilt over the land

The lonely battle rages

In a final desperate stand

Scorched earth or surrender

The choice is in your hand

From here to there

Weaving cloth from nettles

Function dictates form

Inscribed into the ether

There is an inevitable march

Anxiously awaiting amid memories

Hostile thoughts take over

A friendly face breaks the ice

Opening a door

Fortune smiles upon the traveler

An opportunity to arrive

Subtle energies speak

Adjust the volume accordingly

At the intersection of infinity

I’ll meet you in the middle

Suffer the mind

The sun was hot on my bare shoulders the late-afternoon air was warm and thick. My ears were full of the sound of passing cars and the slap, slap, slapping of my dead sneakers on the sidewalk. In a futile attempt to shield my eyes, I momentarily disrupted the pendulum swing of my arms to pull down the brim of my hat. Still squinting, I surveyed the road ahead. This was the back end of a four mile run and my goal was to finish the second half faster than the first. Checking my watch revealed that I had some work to do if I hoped to make that happen.

Physically, I was experiencing the normal symptoms of fatigue; a slight burning in my chest, my heart audibly pounding, and rivulets of sweat streaming from innumerable pores. Mentally, however, I cycled between the "now-here", positive self-talk, and suffering.

Whenever I thought about how far away my goal was, the physical sensation of fatigue became pain. My breath labored, my muscles protested, and my resolve weakened. Instead of taking one step at a time, I was suddenly taking every step between "here" and "there" all at once.

Recognizing the snowballing cascade of negative thoughts, I reeled in my mind and focused it in a more positive angle. The perennial Nike slogan “just do it” just so happened to arise from this directive. The mantra slowly became quieter as I realized that I didn’t need to belabor myself with thoughts at all. For a moment, the chatter dimmed and my mind was clear. In this space, I was aware of my body and my surroundings. There was no suffering, only the knowledge that I could relax and be here indefinitely. Noticing the silence set off another barrage of mental turbulence, but rather than fighting it, I rode it like a wave.

After what seemed like an eternity locked in a psycho-spiritual ju-jitsu match, the entrance to my neighborhood came into view. With the final goal fast approaching, I pushed even harder, goading my body to speed up. I reacted to any thoughts of slowing down by increasing my velocity even more. Far beyond my anaerobic threshold, I could feel the intensity driving acidic waste into my muscles, shutting them down one fiber at a time. With only a few steps left to go, I fought on.

I crossed the four mile threshold, and allowed momentum to carry me to a stop. Transitioning into a labored walk, I made a bee-line for the pool, where after pulling off my watch and sneakers, I toppled into the cool water.

Floating in the liquid medium I was free to appreciate the spoils of my inner war; confidence, a deep sense of satisfaction, and a bowl of cereal waiting for me back home.