Tomorrow it’s the day.

I shoot myself with sedative medicinal plants : I need to sleep, so I can be ready tomorrow.

Tomorrow it’s the day.

I wake up… or rather I open my eyes, and it’s already daylight.

Another insomnia, I think.

But I fall asleep on that thought and dream.

I get in the ring. I’ve never been that calm. I’m throwing high kicks. I win.

I wake up. I’ve been dreaming with details all 3 rounds, during an hour.

I’m dehydrated and hungry, there is still 8 hours before the weight-in, but I decide to eat and drink a bit anyway. I’ll just do rounds of skipping ropes with a sweater later if I need to.

Why am I so calm?

I’m usually the most hypersensitive and anxious person ever.

Why my brain isn’t overthinking? my stomach upside down and full of butterflies? where are my anguished thoughts and my heart palpitations?

Maybe that’s what there is beyond excitement.

Maybe my body is like ‘look girl, this is too much for me, let me be on standby’.

I ask my roommates to give me at least 30 minutes of loneliness in the apartment before I leave. I’m not a crowdy person, hence, I wanna fill my mind and body with emptiness before getting in.

They leave. Time is stretching as space is filled with nothingness.

Some thought pass by, will I make the weight?, and I sit on the floor.

On my left hand, I hold a ‘chem’ (string of prayer beads used by Hindus and Buddhists, that a Bhutanese friend gave me) as I sing Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha. It is the Ganseh’s mantra. Ganesh is one of the deities in Hinduism. This mantra is known as an obstacle remover and repeating it help improving focus and abilities to overcome, among other things, ennemies.

I even write it on my left arm. That arm will be untouchable.

That arm will be a weapon of mass destruction.

On my neck, I’m wearing an old necklace, the pendent is a small girl. Since I have it, and it’s been years, I’ve always gave it all my faith and believed that when wearing it, I would have luck.

I can smell in my room essential oil of laurus nobilis, which is associated with confidence, clairvoyance, wisdom and protection.

It’s time. This is the story of my first fight ever.

I know you might be thinking ‘what the **** that girl is just TOO spiritual, this as NOTHING to do with fighting’.

You would be right to think that … even if I’m actually not that much spiritual, and I could have start my story a few months back. When I start harassing my coach to get me a fight, when I start training on a regular basis. But it’s just less fun to write about that.

And well, let’s be real, I’ve been training for months, and told ‘I don’t wanna see your face in the gym the day before or the D-day : JUST REST’.

If I can’t train, then I can never be too careful, so let’s just invoke mantra, charm, talisman and faith.

We are at the weight-in, and I see my opponent, looking tough and badass.

This is so not me. I can’t hold a smile and hello, how are you feeling?

120 lb. damn. I could have eat a bit more. Next time I’ll buy a weight scale to put at home, instead of worrying if I’ll make it.

We get my amazing coaches and I in a small messy basement where fighter prepare. One of my coach massage me with namman muay, the other one is giving me some advices and telling me how great it is that I am so calm.

Oh yes, and did I said I pee approximately 10 times, and also had my menstruation today for the first time since 2 months?

Maybe I look calm but something in my body isn’t.

I shadow box a bit, and remember my dream. This is gonna be so easy.

It’s my turn, and as I pass in front of the blurry (I’m not wearing my glasses nor lenses) crowd, I can recognize some voices. Thanks friends!

I get almost in.

We’re not in Thailand, hence : helmet, mouthguard, shinguard, and chest + groin protector.

Take it off, it’s too big, find me a smaller one. I say to my coach as he put me a a large helmet on.

I hear the crowd booing. Come on guys, don’t be stupid I will not fight with a XL helmet, I have a baby head.

Finally, I get in the ring. My opponent is still staring at me with a nasty, badass look… pretty much like Ronda but meaner. I smile.

What are 2 minutes like?

I remember some hard sparing. I remember mostly pads rounds.

I can tell you one thing : two minutes are long and exhausting as hell.

I’m not stress, but a bit worried. Will I make it?

I also remember Sylvie’s article : you cannot possibly be gassing out in 6 minutes, even less in 2.

People lift cars off of their children. People sprint for a full mile away from an exploding building or tornado or whatever — they don’t stretch first; they don’t train for it, they just go. So physically speaking, I don’t believe it’s possible to literally have nothing left in the tank in a 15 minute fight with breaks in it, as long as you breathe. Mentally, yes, you can gas out. But that’s not how people experience it. The thought “I can’t go on,” is not one of acknowledging mental stress, it’s one of experiencing the body as being incapable of continuing on. And it’s a lie. “A” had spent countless mornings running that mountain, training and honing his endurance to keep moving despite fatigue, but he hadn’t trained how to do this under mental stress. The mountain is not stressful, it’s rather serene. Under the stress of padwork and maybe some sparring, “A” had practiced taking these breaks to show his fatigue, to express how hard he felt this all was. And so that’s the skill he got to demonstrate here in this fight.

Sylvie

Fight!

We tap. She jab. For 10 seconds, her punches are all on my face.

Shit, but she is really here to hurt!

I step back, which is usually not my style, but I will have to move. I can’t just stand there and be beaten up. No time to think, I move and jab carefully.

Another shot, I feel my head spinning, however it isn’t hurting.

Thanks, I have an helmet. Damn, she is strong and she wants to KO me!

Now, no time to think. There is no carefully anymore : it’s not a sparing!

I start sending some strikes, and kicks. I see her head flying but I don’t go after her, I guess I’m too nice and should learn to take advantage of those situations. This is what my coaches always tell me anyway.

The bell rings.

My coach jump in, another one like this round and you win, can you do this? give me another round like this, you’re not tired and she is. Are you tired?

I shake my head in the negative.

Fight!

Now, I know she will come like a bulldozer or wreaking ball.

Low kick, kick, kick, jab, right, OOHEEEEE

The crowd is screaming.

I’m not tired, but I feel I have no power.

My intentions seems not to hurt, but only to protect.

However, if you want to hurt, I’ll have to hurt you too.

Jab, uppercut, right, kick, OOOHHEEE

The crowd is cheering.

The bell rings.

My coach jump in again, good! last one, can you give me another one like this? you already won. Don’t forget to move, don’t stay in her punches, you’re not tired and she is. go go.

I nod. Definitively not tired. I’m actually feeling now : I have warmed up.

Fight!

It’s the last one.

My coach always says : ils commencent lion et ils finissent chaton.

*(They start like lion and finish like kitten)

I’m not like that, I would rather say about me that … I’m a diesel.

Now is the last round and she is tired. I give it all, and I want to win.

Don’t forget it’s a show. I tell myself as I throw a useless (because too far) high side kick. OOOOOOOOHHHHEEEEE. I hear the crowd.

The bell rings.

Don’t forget to smile, you’re not tired. You did well. You won, you won.

How could have I forget to smile? this is me : smiling is my natural state.

I put on my smile back. I’m not listening to my coach anymore. I smile.

Be neither affected by praise nor criticism.

Be neither affected by victory nor defeat.

This is what I am thinking about as I get in the middle of the ring.

She is smiling too. Not for the same reason, I guess she thinks she won.

Et voici la décision officielle, the official decision.

The winner by split decision, le gagnant par décision partagé.

I don’t even know what I am thinking about.

The referee look at me and tell me : you did well.

What does that even mean?!

It resonate like a don’t worry, you lost but you defend good.

We did both well, it’s a split decision.

Actually, I’m not sure I won. I’m not that kind of person.

I talk badass, but really I’m no badass with my baby head and my smile.

I usually prepare for the worst case scenario, so now that I’m not dreaming, I imagine she wins.

In the red corner!

Holyyyyyyyshiiiittt! That’s me! She looks as surprise as I am.

I mean, I don’t think I did horrible and that’s why it is so amazing.

But, she was strong. And she knew it. That’s probably why she was stunned.

We hug, I hug my coaches, I thank her coaches. She does the same.

Finished. Done. All those months of training for a 6 minutes show.

We get back to the basement, you did good! it’s no split decision, for me it’s an unanimous decision : you won.

Both of my coach look enthousiast. I’m happy, but not overcelebrating. Good, I won but I mean, I could have lost too.

They gives me compliments, aren’t you saying this just to make me feel happy and be nice right now guys?

One of my coach answer me the best answer I could have ever imagine :

Come on, petite guerrière, tu sais que je lâche pas les compliments comme ça tout de même… je t’ai quand même dit que tu n’avais pas de talent… mais tu es une travailleuse.

*(Come on, little warrior, you know I’m not the kind of person who gives compliments like that anyway … I have even told you, you had no talent… but you are a worker)

While the other one tells me : I’m trying to find you an opponent for the next event (in two weeks).

Which is the bestest compliment ever on his part, let’s be real … after 6 months of harassment to get a fight. Now I know : he believes in me. Because I’m a worker, and I show him I could do it.

I smile. Take a shower, and go see my friends.

I feel pretty, is it because I won?

So, ready for the next fight?, ask one of my friend.

I make a strange face, it isn’t a yes, neither it is a no.

It’s just that … men, she was strong. Her punch didn’t hurt me, I got worse in training, but … it was strong. Why would someone wants to get those punch in da face?

It is, I think, reasonable to ask ourselves why are we willing to get in a ring for free?

I don’t know why yet. But of course, I’m ready for the next.