My day starts like a regular guy’s. I wake up, drink raw eggs, run around Philadelphia, and punch raw slabs of meat. Wait, that’s not my story—that’s Rocky’s. I get us confused all the time.

Like a boxer on a treadmill, I hit the ground running. It was my first time being in love, and if enthusiasm were a sport, I’d have been sponsored by Nike. Or Adidas, whichever offered...

I trained for months to be a boxer. Not Mike Tyson style, but more like Fed Ex. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Well, I’m not really a lover, but I am slightly more romantic...

You can’t act being a boxer. It’s like being on stage.

As my future crumbled before my eyes, I grasped for the rope. My entire life’s struggle was ending here, in plain view of my enemies. How was it possible? Had had I let things come...

Victory, is like a boxer that hangs his gloves, after the consecutive losses; sometimes walking away is what builds character, than the actual fight. As humble fruit on a tree that falls to the ground...

The boxer had two black eyes. But that’s to be expected, since he was from Africa.