One humiliating and painful day in gym
This was an intense training day at the gym, just one week before my rematch against my African opponent. My trainer, was already there when I arrived. She is about 60 years old, still attractive, and exuded an impressive presence despite her age. Her friendly demeanor does not mask how hard and uncompromising her training methods were.As soon as I entered the door, she called me over. "Get undressed," she commanded with a slight smile on her lips. I didn't hesitate. Being naked was part of our training, just as it would be in the fight. I undressed in front of her, feeling the gazes of other gym-goers - other fighters of our gym - on me, but I ignored them and stood naked before my trainer."You asked for this fight. You wanted to fight naked. You made the rules," she reminded me as she scrutinized me. Her words sounded like a constant challenge that I had accepted, and they reinforced my determination to endure every ordeal.
She immediately began to show me various techniques on how to fight on the ground and inflict as much pain as possible on my opponent. But before I could apply these techniques myself, she demonstrated them on my own body. Her hands found the most sensitive spots on my body with pinpoint accuracy, and each punch, each grip caused piercing pain. She seemed to take pleasure in how I squirmed under her grip and encouraged me to endure the pain and not back down."You must learn to love the pain," she said, as she struck me in the genitals with her fist. "In the fight, nothing will be given to you, and you must be stronger than your opponent." I gritted my teeth and focused on not screaming, even though the pain shot through my entire body.The training continued, and she repeatedly kicked me in the genital area, let her punches rain down on my breasts, and forced me to endure these torments. Each punch was a test of my endurance and willpower. My trainer dosed the strength of her punches so well that no bruises appeared on my body that would be visible before the fight. During the breaks, I stood there, naked and trembling with pain. I was not allowed to cover myself, even if I wanted to. The others in the gym watched us, some nodding approvingly, admiring my strength and perseverance. It was humiliating, but it was also a sign that I was ready to do whatever it took to win."Pain is no reason for anything," she explained to me. "Anyone who steps into the ring or comes to training must love the pain. You must not only resist – you must embrace the pain." Her words echoed in my head as I tried to endure every punch and kick, not just as a test but as part of my growth.During training, she also spoke about the reality of the upcoming fight. "You will probably bleed," she said as she simulated another punch to my face. "The blood will drip down you, but all of that must not matter to you. It is part of the fight and shows your strength."After an especially intense training session, in which she showed me how to dominate my opponent on the ground, she smiled contentedly. "You're making progress," she said, patting me on the shoulder. "I see that you are ready not just to endure the pain, but to use it." Her words gave me a small spark of pride, and I knew that all the torments and humiliations had a purpose.The training day ended and I felt her respect for my determination and strength.
And as I would eventually step into the cage naked, ready to face my opponent, I felt a deep inner strength that helped me overcome all challenges.After the training, I went to the communal shower. My body was battered and hurt with every movement. In the large mirror in the shower room, I looked at my naked body. No bruises, but red marks were visible on my skin, especially where my trainer's punches and kicks had hit. It was an impressive sight that reflected the hardness of my training.I stepped under the warm water of the shower, which gently ran over my battered body. The other women in the gym were also showering and watched me out of the corner of their eyes. Despite the pain, I felt strong and determined. Some of the women came up to me to congratulate me and express their admiration for my endurance and strength. The water washed away the sweat and pain of the training, and I felt a mix of relief and pride.Together with the other women, I left the shower, dried off, and got dressed. The training day was over, but the memories of the hardness and the lessons would remain. I was ready for the upcoming fight, stronger and more resilient than ever before.
She immediately began to show me various techniques on how to fight on the ground and inflict as much pain as possible on my opponent. But before I could apply these techniques myself, she demonstrated them on my own body. Her hands found the most sensitive spots on my body with pinpoint accuracy, and each punch, each grip caused piercing pain. She seemed to take pleasure in how I squirmed under her grip and encouraged me to endure the pain and not back down."You must learn to love the pain," she said, as she struck me in the genitals with her fist. "In the fight, nothing will be given to you, and you must be stronger than your opponent." I gritted my teeth and focused on not screaming, even though the pain shot through my entire body.The training continued, and she repeatedly kicked me in the genital area, let her punches rain down on my breasts, and forced me to endure these torments. Each punch was a test of my endurance and willpower. My trainer dosed the strength of her punches so well that no bruises appeared on my body that would be visible before the fight. During the breaks, I stood there, naked and trembling with pain. I was not allowed to cover myself, even if I wanted to. The others in the gym watched us, some nodding approvingly, admiring my strength and perseverance. It was humiliating, but it was also a sign that I was ready to do whatever it took to win."Pain is no reason for anything," she explained to me. "Anyone who steps into the ring or comes to training must love the pain. You must not only resist – you must embrace the pain." Her words echoed in my head as I tried to endure every punch and kick, not just as a test but as part of my growth.During training, she also spoke about the reality of the upcoming fight. "You will probably bleed," she said as she simulated another punch to my face. "The blood will drip down you, but all of that must not matter to you. It is part of the fight and shows your strength."After an especially intense training session, in which she showed me how to dominate my opponent on the ground, she smiled contentedly. "You're making progress," she said, patting me on the shoulder. "I see that you are ready not just to endure the pain, but to use it." Her words gave me a small spark of pride, and I knew that all the torments and humiliations had a purpose.The training day ended and I felt her respect for my determination and strength.
And as I would eventually step into the cage naked, ready to face my opponent, I felt a deep inner strength that helped me overcome all challenges.After the training, I went to the communal shower. My body was battered and hurt with every movement. In the large mirror in the shower room, I looked at my naked body. No bruises, but red marks were visible on my skin, especially where my trainer's punches and kicks had hit. It was an impressive sight that reflected the hardness of my training.I stepped under the warm water of the shower, which gently ran over my battered body. The other women in the gym were also showering and watched me out of the corner of their eyes. Despite the pain, I felt strong and determined. Some of the women came up to me to congratulate me and express their admiration for my endurance and strength. The water washed away the sweat and pain of the training, and I felt a mix of relief and pride.Together with the other women, I left the shower, dried off, and got dressed. The training day was over, but the memories of the hardness and the lessons would remain. I was ready for the upcoming fight, stronger and more resilient than ever before.
