Love Bites: Boxing Basics

Until recently, sports reminded me of being picked last for netball and team games meant playing with people who weren’t prepared to lose. In adulthood, I assessed my options. Tennis, darts and golf never seemed quite me, but boxing happened to appeal. Initially, the attraction may have been skin deep. I had a vision of myself: writer-journalist-boxing champion, decked out in pink boxing gloves and shorts with my name across the waistband. 

I signed up for a taster session at a local boxing club and was placed with four men who I assumed had more boxing experience than me. I wondered how I would manage to keep up with them; maybe this was all a mistake. Soon, however, I realised we were all beginners, and though I couldn't push the weights as fast as the others, I wasn’t made to feel bad about it. I was given a head start and told not to give up.

I wanted a sport where I only needed to depend on myself but I quickly realised that boxing is simultaneously individual yet collective. You’re reliant on a partner to take your punches and throw them back. You motivate each other to go faster and laugh off the mistakes together. Afterwards, you chat about dinner, rinse your faces, and catch the same bus home, forgetting that you’ve just been training to knock the other out. 

Everyone takes up boxing for their own reasons: to conquer stress, ease menopause, or even manage Parkinson’s. For me, normal gyms made me feel self-conscious, and other sports made me feel inept. I didn’t want to think about a perfect body, or whether or not I’d win in a real fight. Ironically, in a sport characterised by bulked-up fighters, bloody matches, and long-standing beef, I found a community that was unapologetically inclusive and surrounded me with the kindness I needed to heal my relationship with sport.