To recap my experience, I offer you a list of events that occured from the moment I woke up, to the end of the fight and the aftermath. All times are approximate.
Enjoy.
Saturday, Feb. 27, 9:30 a.m.: I usually sleep in on Saturdays, but today is no ordinary Saturday. Clearly, I'm a bit restless. Maybe playing with the cat and lying on the living rom couch will lull me back to sleep. It works.
11:30 a.m.: Time to wake up, and this time, for real. Breakfast consists of black coffee with honey, a banana, two packages of oatmeal and a medium glass of orange juice.
1 p.m.: The goal was to make this day as "ordinary" as possible. That includes lounging around in my sweatpants, watching COPS. Heartbeat and nerves feel normal.
1:30 p.m.: I must begin to be more productive. Time to shave, but not my face. All that arm hair must go so that it doesn't get caught on my gloves or tape. Ouch! This process takes longer than I thought.
4:15: p.m.: I can't find my mouthguard. Dammit! I have to arrive at Dayton Memorial Hall at 5:30 p.m. on the nose. Is there time to run over to Dick's Sporting Goods to buy a new one, boil it and fit it against my teeth? Probably not. Dammit!
4:45 p.m.: My darling wife finds my mouthguard, stuffed in the pocket of one of my many pairs of basketball shorts. Whew!
5 p.m.: Off to Dayton Memorial Hall. The radio is turned off. The only sounds are tires on asphalt and a few lingering thoughts in my head.
5:30 p.m.: Once inside Memorial Hall, it starts to hit me that Fight Night has finally arrived.
7 p.m.: Mandatory blood pressure reading says 130/100. I doubt the bottom number, but I'm excited.
7:20 p.m.: Time to get geared up. Hand wraps are secured, gloves are strapped, Vaseline is rubbed on my cheeks, nose, lips and eyes.
7:30 p.m.: I take a seat on the ground in a dimly lit hallway, next to the balcony seats. I've never truly meditated before, but somehow, I find it easy to close my eyes and escape to a peaceful place. Deep breaths, controlled breathing. Visualize victory.
7:45 p.m.: James, my Second, puts me through a short focus pads drill. Nothing too intense, but something to get a light sweat going.
7:55 p.m.: James and I head down to the hallway, just before the first fight begins. My head is down, my face is expressionless. I see Dakota, my opponent, across the hall from me, but I only glance at him.
8:15 p.m.: The first fight ends. Joe my trainer joins me in the hallway. I'm minutes away.
8:23 p.m.: Joe drapes my hood over my head. "Mannish Boy" by Muddy Waters blares over the speakers. Show time. A couple of minutes later, I enter the ring with a puncuated jump. The music is off and Sensei Brown calls us to the center of the ring. His instructions sound like white noise. My eyes are straight ahead, starring into Dakota's. He stares back.
8:25 p.m. to ???: Round 1 begins. I work my jab, my bread-and-butter punch. But Dakota responds with jabs of his own. We exchange a few power shots, but when the round ends, I think Dakota might be ahead.
???: Round 2. I need to catch up. "Be first," James says. Punches are getting sloppier, my legs are feeling heavy. We tie up a couple of times. As the round ends, it feels pretty even.
???: Round 3. Time to leave everything I have left in the ring. With every bit of strength we have left, Dakota and I exchange shots. With about 45 seconds left, I land a stiff uppercut. Everything else is a blur. The fight ends. I ask Sensei Brown, "Is that it?"
"That's it," he says.
???: I'm declared the winner by decision. I immediately walk over and hug Dakota. "Good job, buddy," I say.
???: I exit the ring, head straight to the dressing room and back to the balcony hallway. I collapse on the ground, exhausted. Am I physically tired or emotionally drained? Probably both. After a few minutes, James comes by, congratulates me and tells me to stand up. I seek refuge in a nearby folding chair. Patrick Johnston comes by, pats me on the back and asks if I'm ok. I ask him to help me find my wife. First I see my dad, then my uncle. I start to tear up. Eventually, Krista, my wife arrives. I give her a huge hug, while crying on her shoulder.
Everything hits me at once, like a frieght train. It's both tears of joy and tears of relief.
It's over.
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