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I turn to Bobby in question. Any pearls of last-minute wisdom? Any gems? A declaration of love, even? Nothing. Just a white face and shaking hands as he holds himself back from carrying me out of here.
I kiss my boxing glove and ‘blow’ it his way, but it does nothing to alleviate his freak out. Whatever. I don’t have time for that right now.
I turn back to Iz and nod my head. I’m as ready as I’m going to be.Legs, use your legs, use your legs, use your legs.I look at my opponent and wonder if she’s a raging bitch out for blood, or if she’s as scared of this as I am, but her bored face gives nothing away, so I rearrange mine and start swinging my arms to warm up.
The referee finally steps to the middle of the ring and calls us forward. Holy shit. My heart rate triples, and I turn to Bobby for one last dose of bravery. He’s watching me, his body primed and ready to jump in and swoop me away at any second.
“Alright ladies, we already discussed the rules.” I swear, the ref seems bored already. “Defend yourselves at all times. Listen to my instructions at all times. Make it a clean fight. Touch gloves, then go back to your corners.”
She and I look at each other, and the lack of malice in her eyes makes me feel better. But when we slam gloves together in a ‘tap’, my stomach threatens to explode. This is really happening.
Izzy stands on the ground outside the ring and pats my leg when I reach my corner. “Legs, Kit. Use your reach. Go hard, keep your ears open.” Then she pats my leg again.
I turn around to face the center and wait for the bell to sound. Standing here in this in-between time is strange. Time stretches on, but at the same time, everything moves in fast forward. The bell dings loud in my ears and the crowd erupts with cheers and shouted instructions. I feel – literallyfeel– the adrenaline flood my body. Fuel pours from my heart and fills my chest, spreading down through my arms into my hands and fingers. My stomach turns hot like I swallowed a hot water bottle, and the heat spreads down through my legs and into my feet.
I feel like I weigh nothing and can move at the speed of light. Like my muscles are made of molten lava and pack the strength of an army of grown men.
We step toward each other and circle. I lift my hands to cover my head the way Bobby so mulishly taught me, and I vow to not drop them.
Testing my reach, I step in and jab. I’m not looking to hurt, I just want to see how far I can stay away from her but still make contact. I find if I place my hips correctly and extend the way I’ve been taught; my arm is a hell of a lot longer than hers. I can touch her, but like a toddler trying to hit his daddy’s knees, she can’t reach me as long as I hold her outside that range.
My new knowledge empowers me, so I step in and jab with the intention to fight. I jab, jab, and then throw a right hook.
My jabs hit home, but the hook misses when she ducks her head, and while I recover my stance, she uses my distraction to hit me back. My whole body knows the strike is coming long before it actually arrives. My limbs tense on their own, my muscles flex and wait to absorb the strike. I overcompensate my head cover because Bobby screams at me to do so, but that leaves my body open for her to dig into my ribs –left, left, right– forcing my breath out in a big whoosh.
“Kit! Cover up!” Bobby shouts angrily, almost animalistic.
I drop my hands for the shortest second, and turn to him with a smile. I smile a big mouthguard-filled, dimple-popping, I’m-having-the-best-day-of-my-life kinda smile. I was just hit in my first ever competitive fight, and there’s power and relief in knowing, it didn’t hurt!
I hadn’t realized I was still scared. I thought I was ready, but now I know that I wasn’t. I lift my hands when Bobby’s head threatens to explode, and turning back to her, I step in with a smile. I might resemble Heath Ledger’s Joker, it might even be scary for everyone watching, but it’s a real smile and sends my heart soaring.
I strike out, jab, jab, then a lower left kick. My shin connects with her thigh and sends it buckling instantly. Her face registers the pain first, then her dropped hands have me imagining running up the ‘Rocky Stairs’ in Philadelphia. I step in again, not giving her a chance to recover, and the whole rest of the first round continues on the same –jab, rip, jab, leg kick, one two, one two, hook.
Time is warped. The three-minute round both flies by and crawls at a snail’s pace. Eventually the bell rings, and I go stumbling back to my corner with a stupid grin on my face and those concrete boots on my bare feet. I don’t feel weightless anymore. I feel like I weigh a ton.
Not even a second passes before Bobby’s in my face. His smile stretches from one ear to the other, while Izzy squishes in close so I can see them both at the same time.
He removes my mouthguard and squirts in water. “You’re doing so good, baby! So fucking good. Keep hammering her leg, she’s almost finished.”
“Kit!” Izzy’s eyes are wide with premature victory. “You’re a natural! How do you feel?”
“I feel good. Tired.” I giggle from the high of adrenaline. “It doesn’t hurt, though. I really thought it would.”
Bobby laughs and pats my knee. “Okay, baby. Keep it up. You’ve got two rounds to go, but feel free to end it sooner.”
“Keep hammering her leg,” Izzy repeats. She snatches my mouthguard from Bobby and shoves it into my mouth. I stand and shake out my arms while Bobby removes my stool and water bottle.
Ding, ding.
We step forward as the small crowd roars with excitement, and though she appears to have a limp, she comes back with renewed determination; her corner people must give an epic pep talk.
Testing out my legs, I kick out to gauge distance – just like I did with my arm – but instead of colliding with her stomach like I’d intended, she kicks out too, and her kick lands on the back of my lifted thigh, pushing me backwards and sending me to my ass.
I fall hard with athwump,and cough up a lung in surprise.
I can literally hear the gasps from my friends, and I’m certain I heard the final twothump-thumpsof Bobby’s heart. Then silence.
My poor, sweet worrier.
