I have been sparring for 3 years, ever since becoming a member of the wonderful community that is North Melbourne Boxing and Fitness, and, though many people think I am crazy to agree to being punched in the head, it never ceases to teach me so many lessons.
1. On a physical level- about pushing yourself, focusing on one thing for a specific amount of time, breathing properly and staying calm (sounds like yoga; go figure)
2. If you don't move your head, you get hit.
3. On a mental level- you can't get overwhelmed by emotions.....some people like to get angry to fight, but I am one of those people that when I get angry sometimes I cry, and, well, crying really doesn't go well in the ring.
4. The major thing though it to continue the practice of climbing out of the zomfort cone.
- To me, the zomfort cone (like the comfort zone) is the corner of an 'L' couch, where you are so wonderfully nestled and warm that even to contemplate getting up to go to the bathroom feels like effort.
- It's your daily routine that works so well, if it wasn't so routine.
- It's where you are good at things and everything comes easy
Now, the thing I loved about boxing when I first started was how I wasn't good at it, how there were people who would beat me every time. 3 years of consistent 3-4 times a week training down the track, my ego has caught up with me (the ego is so fast, but I shouldn't tell it that, I mean, it knows already, right?)
There's times where my head is bigger than my headgear can protect it. Going up against males in the class who are good sports, but still very strong can make the ego bruised.
The ego, in it's sweaty, bruised heap is telling me "this is no fun, I didn't wake up at 6am for this."
Briefly, I listen to it.
I consider just going back to the technique classes, no contact.
And then I realise that the ego needs a good bruising. It needs to be shown that it's not all it's hyped itself up to be and kicked in the dust, because it's there, that the ego needs to realise it was being a bad egg-o.
Following?
Essentially, that was my lesson this week, I thought it appropriate to share.
Then, last night, I went to an open mic- art party at this quirky house up the road from me. I genuinely wound up sitting in the corner of the L-couch, nestled in there watching the other brave souls get up and perform their new works to a lounge room of people. From my nestled little spot I thought "Yeah, I'm a performer, I could do that" (hello ego) "oh.. but I don't think I could with no costumes, everyone just there, on the floor."
The organiser signed me up for an open mic spot. Since I impulsively highlighted my hair that afternoon, I thought I might be impulsive and give this a shot too.
Gingerly, I told him I wanted to go early on in the night so I could go home.
During the break, at 10.30, I told him I really wanted to go soon, but had committed to the challenge of getting up there (I had planned to tell a very dramatic story about a bee sting I got one time)
So he told me that if I did this other thing, I could go sooner. That thing was "room activation" where small groups would go to a different room of the house for a different performance.
There, in someone else's bedroom, I ended up doing a thing to 4 small groups of people, so I did 4 x 5 minute performances.
Flashbacks of my open mic debut when I was six at an athletics camp were still strong in my mind.
In that situation, there is no where to hide. They didn't really know what they were in for, and neither was I.
Oh man, what a rush.
I left straight after, drenched in sweat, feeling exposed and weird.
But now it's done, and I have written this post to help me process it, I am happy, though still shocked.
Sharing it with you still brings back that exposed feeling, but after my performances last night (some better than others) the sky hasn't fallen in, so I guess I will be ok.
The final thing that made me commit to it was I was speaking to a friend earlier on in the evening I had not seen for a while. He looked so well, and was telling me how he has quit smoking, gone vegan and is sober. For him coming from a family of alcoholics, it was hard.
Going to a family event and not getting slizzered is the definition of being outside of the zomfort cone.
Bit by bit doing the hard thing but realising down the track it is the good thing makes it easier and easier.
And this is what inspired me to give up my spot in the L couch and cosy up to that which makes us uncomfortable.
I would love to hear what you have been taking on lately that makes the hairs on your neck stand up a bit.
Jj
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