Jab left jab right, swing and hook. Get low, bob, weave, and I'm dizzy. I look up and my partner tells me to keep going.

I can barely gather up enough strength to put my hands back up, but I find it, somehow. I lift the 16oz gloves on my hands and start the punch combination over again. I'm dripping sweat like it was pouring rain on my face, and I’m not sure I’ll make it to the next class. Who knew boxing was so intense?

When I first signed up for beginning boxing at Sacramento City College I knew there would be challenges, but I never thought that when I unwrapped my hands after class they would be shaking. Glancing at the stairs, I wonder how I will walk down them with my legs hurting like they do.

Before we got to the light sparring, I was able to hold my own. But the actual combat has been a challenge, to say the least. The drill consists of half of the class being in an inner circle that doesn't move and the other half in an outer circle that moves clockwise, every time meeting a new opponent.

There are five women in the class, including me. For the first time, the instructor told us that males and females can take jabs at each other. Most of the men in this class are over 5 feet 6 inches, and I don't know how my 5-foot-2-inch self will ever reach them with my short arms. My height and my nerves make it hard for me to focus on correctly following through with my punches.

When I return to my regular partner, who is a guy only an inch or two taller than me, I feel more at ease. He’s been encouraging, helping and supporting me through the class so far. He knows my strengths and weaknesses and with him, I feel comfortable and motivated.

I start with my regular jabs, and then I surprise him with the hook. I land it! Still in good spirits, my partner rushes me like me a football player as I uppercut his sides. The instructor blows the whistle and my partner smiles at me with approval as he says, "You did really good. You have the strength - don't forget that."

I hear him, but I don't believe him, and the next person I have to face isn’t a believer either. Most of the men in the class are supportive and will stop and correct me if I make a mistake, but there are others who aren’t as supportive, like my next opponent.

He stands well over 6 feet tall and looks bored at the thought of having to spar me, but I try to stay motivated, and I give it whatever energy I have. I land the uppercut to the side of his tall body, and just as I celebrate, I let my guard down and “Pop!” he lands one on my eye.

Thank goodness he is not giving 100 percent, rather 40, but there’s still a quick sting of pain. I am mostly shocked, as this is the first time anyone has punched me who wasn't my sister.

I collect myself. I think to myself, “This is a boxing class. This is what is supposed to happen.” I wait for the next person to face me.

This time it’s a woman, and we’re about the same height, but she has an athletic build and she is wearing her softball shirt from high school. I haven't really seen her in action before, but I am about to find out what she’s made of.
The whistle blows and I have the feeling that she is going easy because I am throwing punches unsuccessfully and her response is delayed. I keep going, and then I find out her response is to throw the fastest jab combinations I’ve ever received. That was a surprise. She landed a bunch of punches on my face and my stomach.

At this point, my confidence has completely deflated. I’m disappointed that the sport that I’d waited so long to try out for didn’t turn out to be something I instantly excelled at, as I had fantasized.

Maybe I should have pushed a little harder when we ran up and down the stadium stairs or jumped rop the whole time instead of stopping early? Do I give up because I am now afraid of what will happen toward the end of the semester, as the class becomes even more intense? I fear that I’ll get my nose broken and have two black eyes that will make me look like a raccoon.

Time’s up and class is over. I slowly walk to my backpack and drink from my water bottle. The instructor walks by and says "Not bad," I hear some of other guys tell me I've improved.

I’m dead tired and I debate whether to make this my last class. I get up and realize that I had the stamina to punch the padded wall for another half hour.

I can't leave this! I’ve grown to love boxing, and it has given me a feeling I’ve never felt before. None of the other sports I have failed at have made me feel like this. There’s something about boxing.

Whether I become better or come out with a bloody nose and lumpy face, I’m happy to say that I’ve found something that makes me feel I was made to do this.