It began when the boxing Coach* came back to his round of #ringphilosophy thanks to his (really) psychotic GF drama…
Then came conversations over chocolate waffles about epiphanies.. It led me to realise how dangerously close I was to falling through the gates of frustration, disappointment and that overwhelming sense that every avenue, lane, alleyway and path I’ve tried seems to have led to absolute naught, every time.
Ruled by passion and emotion over logic, I have of late been thrown accusations that I am wasting my time, effort, energy and emotions on folks who either don’t notice, deserve care or even bother.
|Training in Ramadhan is hard. Was inspired by Hakeem Olajuwon who|
played for the Houston Rockets in the 90s, he still played all his NBA
games while observing Ramadhan. Respect.
Interestingly enough, I find these out in the most unlikely situations, conversation openers that begin with, "he / they said to not say anything to Farah," or "whatever you do, don't let Farah find out.." or even one that wins the Olivier Award for ultimate ridiculousness, "I refuse to discuss anything about this with Farah, what does she know.. nothing!" Seriously? OK.
Why do I effing bother? Because I care? Because I want to achieve something that I never thought was possible? Because I feel some strange magnetic pull from a deep dark place somewhere in a black hole hidden away in the universe? Because I feel the urge for an impossible challenge? Hell if I know.
Honestly, training during Ramadhan has been especially mind-numbingly hard.. 2am wake up calls, intense timed sessions and I always end the session crying in pain.
Strangely though, in between the ridiculously excruciating footwork and boxing, my mind lapses into a truly bizarre and very surreal state of calm for a brief moment and I’m at ease - yes, panting and sweating profusely with my heart about ready to burst out of my rib cage. Why do I work so damned hard?
|The RBF queen - Vivien Leigh as Cleopatra in the |
1945 film Caesar and Cleopatra
It is my choice. I am the one that can slow it down or speed it up, if I want or care to. I can choose what I need to discard and the moves I need to change.
So with Ali's words: "Inside of a ring or out, ain't nothing wrong with going down. It's staying down that's wrong," whispered by Mr. Coach in my ear, the second painful epiphany at 4am is this:
Yes, I'm down but I'm getting up. I know what I need to do.
And as usual, Mr. Coach has to have the last word and says, "look on the underside of your gloves. What does it say?" I want to say that I think if I had a spirit animal, it'd be an Amur leopard, but what the heck.