Before the first training session, I was filled with pure adrenaline and determination; between us, I thought this experience would be a walk in the park; little did I know that I was in for a rude awakening. The moment I stepped into the gym, the atmosphere was thick with the smell of sweat and a sense of tenacity. As I watched seasoned fighters spar in the ring, a shiver shot down my spine; I couldn't believe I was doing this.
The first week, aptly called Hell Week, was a wake-up call. The first session involved sweating and panting through countless drills. After what felt like a thousand drills, I lay on the soaking wet mat, looking up at the cloud of steam my peers and I had made, only to find that we were only 10 minutes in. I persevered through the session and somehow made it to the end, still alive. The pride I felt from making it through that first session was the fuel that powered me through every subsequent session. I felt like I was becoming stronger and more skilled with each practice until I sparred for the first (and only) time. Initially, I was excited to spar, and honestly, I thought I would dominate until I saw the intense, fiery determination in my opponent's eyes. As the coach signalled for us to start, she swiftly moved towards me and hit me with a jab square in my face. The sparring was finally over after what felt like an eternity and a hell of a left hook. I knew I had my work cut out for me. I continued to work hard during the remaining training sessions and worked out in my spare time. During this period, I considered why I had decided to commit to this. After some contemplation, I realized that one of the main reasons I was competing was for the charity I was fighting for. Kidscan is a charity that helps children with cancer and their families. These children are thrust into a battle that is a matter of life and death, and in all honesty, they're the real fighters. So, when I needed that extra push, I thought of them and the responsibility to raise awareness about such a fantastic charity that offers much-needed resources and care to those who need it.
After eight weeks of training, it was finally the day I was looking forward to Fight Night. As I entered the venue, a nervous energy permeated the atmosphere. At this point, only the fighters had arrived, as we needed medical clearance before the event began. The crowd started filling the venue, with over 1000 people cheering on their loved ones. I felt a cacophony of fear, excitement and a hint of pride. Had I made it this far? Would I be able to hold my own in front of the crowd?
Soon, it was my turn to fight. I boldly strolled from centre stage to the ring while Kanye's "All of the Lights" played in the background. The moment I stepped into the ring, everything else faded. My heartbeat was deafening as my focus narrowed down on my opponent. She looked as intense as she did during that first sparring session, with the same fiery determination. This time, I was ready. I raced towards her when the bell rang, eager to prove myself. The three rounds were a blur of punches and a constant reminder to keep my guard up. I had trained hard, but the reality of being in the ring was more demanding than any of my previous training. I felt fatigue set in early on, but somehow, I pushed through to the final bell. As the final bell rang, I felt relief wash over me. I had done it – I had fought my first boxing match. As we waited for the judge's decision, I held my head up because I had made myself proud regardless of the result.
I'm glad to say I won. However, that experience was about more than just a boxing match. It was about perseverance, discipline and self-belief. An Alex Hormozi quote says, "You don't become confident by shouting affirmations in the mirror, but by having a stack of undeniable proof that you are who you are. Outwork your self-doubt". So, if you've read this far, I encourage you to have experiences that push you beyond your comfort zone and reveal the incredible person you are.