I love closing time at System, the last fifteen minutes. That's when the staff start preparing the club for closing. The music goes off and then suddenly every other noise gets amplified -- the heavy breathing and grunts of members training hard, the sound of the dumbbells being dropped on the hard floor, the scratching of the cable machine cables, and the clicking of the pins as members readjust the weights on the machines. All the sounds of hard training that are usually snuffed out and swallowed by the blasting music over the club speakers are then left to take control and fill the club. Members rush to get in that last set, to push out that impossible last rep, and they never look as busy as they do in the last minutes before club closing.
Tonight I arrived late to training so I saw one of those members scurrying around to get in an intense workout in a limited time. It seems like all the big guys train at the end of club hours. Tonight the club closed at 7pm because it's a Saturday and most of my big boy buddies were there -- the Pork Chop Boys, Diamond Eyes, Mr. T, and Big Bear.
After training I grabbed some chicken swarma and headed back to my area, Forest Hill. I ended up getting off one stop early, Christie Station, and headed out of the subway for a coffee.
I've been so mentally distracted this week.
In addition to wanting so eagerly to move out of my apartment and me being distracted and discouraged with that, last week someone very close to me asked me "what's your plan?". He asked me again last night. He's asked me this several times actually and each time I give the same half a$$ response. I smile and say something like my plan is to just stay happy. I have no plan beyond this year being all about my boxing but he has no idea how new being deep down happy is to me.
My plan is to get used to being this happy.
For once in my life there is no real plan, no future goal that requires a full agenda of things to do to reach such goal, and I'm happy. I'm just focusing on my boxing. There's no stress of me having to juggle my own training with training 100+ members at my club. There's no cultural pressures with me not fitting into the Korean ideal of what it means to be a woman, an entrepreneur and a pro fighter. There's no social pressures with me not having a baby and, you know what, it feels great. It feels fabulous actually. I feel completely free to do my thing, my boxing, and invest everything I want and everything I got into it.
Will I stay in Toronto past this sponsored year here? Maybe. It's looking more like a probably though. I'm completely happy here and parts of my life that I didn't realize were being neglected, ignored and pushed aside are finally getting due attention.
I'm no longer just "Amy sun-su" ["Amy the pro athlete"] or "Amy the boxer". I am Amy.
I love Toronto. I absolutely love, love, LOVE Toronto and everyday I just really feel incredibly grateful to be here. I still get random Koreans who pass me in the mall or whatnot that recognize me but these days I've been sticking to wearing my hoodie over my head. Sometimes running into even just one random Korean in the street frustrates me and I still refuse to eat any Korean food. It was Korean 24/7 for the past 11 years.
I love Korea, don't get me wrong, but I'm not there so I don't want to experience it.
After System, I got off at Christie Station and headed up to the Tim Horton's coffee shop. Sometimes I go there because sometimes I do miss Korea and Christie Station is right in the Little Korea of Toronto. These days it's not so much a definite feeling but a questionable one, whether or not I really miss it, and so I find myself stopping by this particular Tim Horton's coffee shop about once a week. Tonight the coffee shop, like usual, was full of Koreans -- students milking the wifi or studying, couples chatting, and small groups of middle aged Koreans socializing. The spoken Korean in the shop dominated the English. I still randomly have Koreans recognize me and at Timmies there seems to be a lot of "Neighbor Charles" fans so I kept my hoodie on my head, not only to cover my face somewhat but also my Korean tattoo on my neck. I didn't want anyone to talk to me. I just wanted to sit there and listen, ponder things, and then leave.
I sat there and wondered if I wanted this to be my reality again, surrounded by only Koreans and their language, their culture, their social ideals, and everything else that comes attached to being in their country.
So what's next? I don't know. All I know is right now I am enjoying being happy and am enjoying not having to fight beyond that in the ring. I had originally come to Canada, stepped away from Korea for the year, because I was just so completely and totally mentally exhausted with fighting everyday -- fighting their social norms and expectations, fighting their cultural expectations, and feeling everyday I have to prove myself worth living in that country. I fight to get fair fights as a boxer, I fight to get due respect as a female entrepreneur,...I'm always fighting. Everyday was a mental and emotion fight for something and a person can only fight for so long before they question whether or not if it's time to give up or if it's the end.
Maybe I've reached my end, I don't know. But what I do know is the moment I stepped off that plane and stepped onto Canadian soil it was as if a massive burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I don't have to fight here in Toronto, not mentally or emotionally that is, and that feels like a piece of freedom only I after 11 years of being in Korea could ever understand and appreciate.
I feel like I'm learning to breath again in Toronto and every breath is definitely a sweet one.
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