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.