Boxing

My Dad and uncle we both amateur boxers in their youth. My Dad built a small gym in an outbuilding on our property and equip ted it with some weights, heavy and light bags etc. He marked off an area for a ring. He and my uncle taught my cousins and me the fundamentals of boxing. We used 12 oz. gloves with padding so it was more like pillow fighting than boxing, but we learned how to cover up, footwork, how to throw a punch, and how to move to avoid being hit. I enjoyed the workouts and kept it up. Punching the heavy bag is a great way to take out your frustrations.

In school, I was never a tough kid, more of a nerd really. I have always tried to avoid confrontations, preferring compromise to conflict, so I never had a reason to put my boxing skills into practice outside of the gym.

In my third year of college, I went to a big party at another college in a town near where I attended school. It was a keg party in a large house - think of the party in the movie Animal House. At the party, I started talking with one of the guys who lived at the house and he invited me upstairs to smoke some weed.

We went to his room, but as soon as the door closed, he grabbed me and started trying to fondle my breasts. I pushed him away and told him to roll a joint or I was leaving. Instead, he pushed me down on the bed and began to grope me and try to pull down my panties. I managed to roll out from under him and backed into a corner of the room. He stood up and started to move towards me. At that point, thanks to all my workouts, my brain went on autopilot and I moved into my boxing stance without thinking. I went into a slight crouch, left leg slightly forward, right slightly back for balance and ready to spring. My hands went up to cover my face and and chest. He reached out to grab one of my arms and I lashed out with 4 or 5 quick jabs to his face. I don't have a lot of power behind my jabs, but I'm pretty fast. The rapidity of the jabs stunned him. One of them connected solidly with his nose and he started to bleed. He put his hand up to his face to feel the blood and I connected with a right to his midsection. He had been drinking a lot of beer and this made him retch and stagger slightly back a few steps. I used this opportunity to make a dash past him and out the door of the room.

I ran downstairs, not stopping to look for my friends or my coat, and ran out into the dark. I must have run for a mile or two before I calmed enough to slow down. As I walked home through the dark, I began to cry and have second thoughts: "What just happened?" "Did I misinterpret the situation and just overreact?" "Did I do the right thing?" "Would I be arrested for assault?" My left hand hurt like hell. I had never hit anyone without gloves before. It was a long, cold walk in the dark to my apartment.

The next morning my friend Stephanie called "What happened to you last night? We thought you left with that guy you were talking to, but we saw him later. He looked like he had been in a fight. Someone said his node might be broken."

I have a daughter. I encouraged her to learn some form of self-defense. She studies Aikido. She says it's fun. I hope she never has to use it outside of the gym. She needs to practice enough that it becomes second nature if she ever has to call on her skills.

"Those who are skilled in combat do not become angered,
those who are skilled at winning do not become afraid.
Thus the wise win before the fight, while the ignorant fight to win."

janex19 janex19
41-45, F
2 Responses Jan 13, 2013

Good for you. The jerk clearly had it coming, and he got a lot less than what he really deserved. I hope somebody left him a bloody heap on the floor before he threatened another woman.

You are fortunate to have been taught the art of self defense.