Thank you all for always sharing bits of your stories with me. It means a lot. This is my why-story: the story of why I came down to the gym in the first place or 'a demon of mine'
When you sweat together you just have to kind of bond. Seeing the fighters dedicating their entire bodies to crafting the art of being sharp, fast, powerful, and damage-causing is just extraordinary. It is enriching, motivating, and mental. Literally mental. And I admire every single one of them.
Seeing my training partner’s video of progress today kind of hugged me from the inside. She has grown so much. She has grinded so hard. And so did all the others who dedicated sweat, blood, tears and knuckles to this martial arts place in an old factory. Where once workers sold their labor to a steady repeating rhythm do fighters now the same.
Discipline
Punctuality
Dedication
Determination
Kindness
Helpfulness
respect
RESPECT!
I am grateful to be able to share that space with you all.
When I moved to Leicester, I discovered hot pod yoga. While going there I met this woman that did boxing at the gym. After getting the details and on my way home I accidentally hit a car. It was a construction van – pretty new to be fair – that I kind of did not see. I stopped the car and put the window down. It was in a dark street around the gym and there was no one except these workers. I told them I am sorry and they said they need to report it. I did not really see the scratch but was also quite intimidated by all these guys.
Now one by one came to my car. I took out the paper to report incidents and they asked me what it was. I told them it’s an international form to fill in by accident.
Meanwhile, can we please acknowledge how small the scratch is. And they said we are here in England and you need an English insurance, we need to call the police. It was my second week in the UK by car, I just moved to Leicester. Then they opened the door of my car and took pictures of me, my liscence plate, they looked what is inside my car, etc. I remind you these were normal construction workers, they had absolutely no right to do that, except that they were men. It was so uncomfortable. And they called the police and made a huge deal out of it and then asked if I am insured and said probably, I am not insured and suggesting that I was worst case even illegally in the country. By that time I was crying. The acted as if every document I was showing them a fake or invalid. And I got so intimidated. I had tears all over and my head was so red. Then they suggested either the police or I’d pay 300 Pounds in cash. By that time I was feeling so helpless, so small and stupid, although I knew I was right I did not know how to get out of that situation. Five men, five
construction workers. No police men, nothing like that had searched my car, declared all my documents as invalid, and threatened me with the police. I was intimidated. I wish I would have been bold and strong.
Confident.
But I was not. I was just weak, afraid and scared. So, I left and brought them the 300 Pounds the next day.
Have you seen the size of the scratch?
I wish I had known muay thai and kickboxing back then.
I wish. It would have changed so much.
Still, I am grateful, especially to have been accepted into the gym.
It is an honour to sweat alongside all your bodies.
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