This Floating Life

Learning how to box has precipitated crises that, appropriately enough, I never saw coming.

First I learned the art of wrapping my hands, how to hold the correct stance, and later, each punch in its perfect, rarefied form. I then learned to throw these punches in combination; and following that, pivoting, ducking, and pulling back. When I'm warming up, I'll call my own simple combinations and throw them, scooting back and forth across the room. Then Leila will call the punch and I'll hit her pads, the combinations gradually becoming more fast, intricate, and aggressive.

Saturday was a little different. I was told to do the more sophisticated combinations entirely on my own, in more rapid progression and without them being called.

This is a natural outgrowth of what I had been doing. Yet it's one thing to punch the air, scoot, punch and punch again, and quite another to come up with your own spontaneous ballet of punches and ducks and focus on an invisible opponent who has suddenly become more fearsome.

I started to feel self-conscious. I started forgetting moves: What was the name of that twisty one . . . . ? In the meantime, I was throwing simple punches badly. Like a cat who misses a leap and wipes out on the floor, I tried to slink into the next set and pretend it never happened. But couldn't conjure up what to do. Crouch? Pivot? I was being watched. I was punching at no one, dodging no one. This felt incredibly foolish.

"Go, go," Leila said.

Uh . . . 1, 2. Uh . . . slip, slip. Uh . . . 1. 2.

Hook.

Um, pivot.

"Don't think about it."

I never thought I would actively wish to be attacked, but I wished she would lunge at me and just tell me how to hit.

1, 2 . . . hook . . . ok, pivot.

"Faster."

1, 2, hook, pivot, 1, 2 . . . uh . . .

I can do this. I started welling up.

Pivot. Snif. 1, 2.

"Keep going. I know how you feel, just push through it."

Ain't that the way of life.

Leila finally took pity on me, raised her pads, and called a few. I rallied and went after her hard: THWAK THWAK THWAK. I was soaked in sweat and my nose was running.

What can I tell you. Sometimes it helps when you can see the enemy, and aren't just swinging punches in the air.