The other day while surfing the channels, desperately looking for some good “ bad TV” to watch, I came across a replay of the recent Bernard Hopkins fight.  Now, I’m not a boxing type of girl. I have watched the occasional Pay-Per-View event from time to time but normally as a part of scheduled quality time with the current man in my life. The closest I get to competitive events is Project Runway and Hell's Kitchen.  But there is one aspect of boxing that has always intrigued me – The Corner.  I’ve always heard the phrase of “having people in your corner” but had never viewed it as a boxing analogy.  The Corner, a group of people whose sole purpose is to tend to your wounds – physical and emotional – while you are experiencing the biggest and possibly most painful moment of your life, is as important to a fighter as it is to everyday people fighting to fulfill their dreams and live their best life.

By definition, courtesy of www.fighting-mma.com , a fighter’s corner :

… is the section outside of the ring occupied by individual[s] who will assist the fighter during the bout. A fighter's corner usually consists of the fighter’s  trainer, training partners, a cut man, and potentially other motivators. The fighter's corner is responsible for giving a fighter advice during the fight, and fixing a fighter up during rounds. If a cut or other injury is sustained during the bout, it is the responsibility of the corner-men to fix it up to the best of their abilities.

    While riding the Green Line to work, I pondered the concept of The Corner and all that it entails. All I could think about was my circle of friends who have loved me – tough and otherwise - through some of the most trying times of my life.
 
    My Corner, like that of prize fighter consists of people who know how to heal my wounds, lie to me effectively, tell me the truth delicately and give me the strength and courage to come out swinging.  My friend Erika is my trainer.  Her objective and unapologetic approach to life has given me a good set of rules to live by. My friends Mitza and Robin are my training partners. We are all the same age and have the same struggles, hopes and dreams.  Through our verbal sparring sessions we have worked out some of the biggest problems, faced our greatest fears and had the freedom to voice beliefs we would be otherwise skeptical to say out loud.  And last but not least, my friend George is my cut man. Through all of the black eyes and bruised egos life has dealt me, George has bandaged me up and sent me back into the ring.

    Someone once told me “Life is hard.  Otherwise, they would have to name it something else”.  There is more truth in that statement than I would like to admit.  But it’s great to know that while you are in the center ring, either kicking ass or getting yours kicked, there are people behind you cheering you on, willing you forward and shouting your name above the roar of the crowd.