Life at three-minute intervals
When I first started boxing, I found the three-minute time clock intimidating. “What if I can’t make it to the end of the round,” I wondered. This was especially true when I got to the third and forth rounds of whaling on a bag or hitting the pads with my trainer. By then my breath would be ragged and my punches less and less poppy. I’d get laughed at of course. And given a look that said, “who are you kidding … as out of shape as you are, it’s amazing you’ve gotten this far.”
The process of three-minutes on and one-minute off; however, got me to thinking about what it was possible to achieve in those moments. Here was this finite amount of time that I could fill with anything I wanted. I could be slow and purposeful, working through the mechanics of my movements, or work on speed and dexterity. And then, with that precious minute off, I got to rest, rehydrate, and even drift in my thoughts before beginning the next round.
The concept of a boxing round also reminds me that everything has a beginning and an end. And however one chooses to experience that interval, it is finite; bordered by the experiences that bring one to the moment and by what comes after.