Excerpt from "Boxing Journal" - December 5th, 2007

I woke up very early this morning and headed to my boxing gym to spar. My coach paired me up against a more advanced boxer. He tells my opponent that it is ok for him to use a complex offense. I give my coach a funny look as if to say "Why did you tell him that?". My coach says, "This is the only way you're going to learn."

...

I am very nervous stepping into the ring, because I usually box in the afternoons, when I am at my sharpest and most energized. But I have meetings this afternoon, and going in early was my only option.

During the first round, I mentally review all my boxing notes: Lead the way. Use the reach of my jab to control the pace of the fight. Make him play my game. Slip his jabs. Sway his straights. Duck his hooks. Backdash his upper cuts. Never stop moving. If he catches you, BLOCK. And always, make him work to hit me.

I try. But he is smaller and faster. He's the one making me put in work. And I can't keep up with him.

By the second round, I am exhausted. My opponent is collected. Very defensive. I try to open him up, but I've spent what little energy I had this morning. I'm sleepy, ineffective and frustrated.

My coach yells at me for coming into the gym tired. He says, "You are wasting everyone's time."

I think about how just an hour ago I ate 4 cups of oatmeal, 8 hard boiled eggs and a piece of grilled chicken. I feel like an idiot. "Why did I not allow myself enough time to digest?", I think to myself. My opponent notices how unfocused I am, and finally decides to get offensive. He unloads his punches on me. He is very accurate, and lands several punches to my head. I start dry heaving every time he hits me.

Its the end of the 2nd round, I am already defeated.

The 3rd round starts. I no longer care. I am covered in sweat. I barely have enough energy to keep my hands up to block. I am still dry heaving. I want to leave. I want it to end. But it won't end. There are 2 minutes and 55 seconds left to go.

2 minutes pass. And in that last minute, I feel a strange sense of inner peace wash over me.

I get punched in the face, and I shake it off. I didn't blink. I didn't dry heave. My stamina feels intact. I experience a euphoric moment of clarity. My body moves fluidly and unflinchingly. Something in my brain unlocks. I feel creative. I want to experiment.

I lean my head forward and pretend to be tired, lost in thought, just as I was in round 2. I want to incite a response. I want him to attack me. He bites. My opponent swings at me with a left hook, I duck under it, and pop him right in the mouth. My opponent is taken back. He tilts his head to the side, nods a bit, smiles at me, and in a gesture of respect, he starts throwing very hard punches at me. I block them. And we're both smiling now.

He grows tired from attacking so much. And he puts up his hands to block. For some reason I have enough energy to punch really hard. There are only 20 seconds left, so I just unload as many hard punches as I can and I knock him back into the ropes. I throw a flurry of punches at him, and eventually land a beautiful straight directly in between my opponent's eyes.

The round bell rings. The fight is over. He looks at me in surprise. I am just as surprised as he is. I hunch over and start dry heaving again.

My opponent helps me up, and gives me a hug. He tells me I did an amazing job, "In that last round, you did not look like a beginner."

He steps out of the ring, and compliments my coach on how he well trained me. My coach smiles at me in approval. And then he actually gives me a compliment. "I'm impressed", he says. I can't believe it. I am so used to him yelling at me, and telling me that I'm not working hard enough. I finally received my first genuine compliment.

I asked my coach, "Why did I all of a sudden do so well at the end of the 3rd round?"

He says to me, "The more you relax, the harder you punch."

"That's really beautiful.", I say.

"Well think about it later. You still have another hour and a half of training to go today. Get to the heavy bag and give me 3 rounds.", he barks.