The Renaissance Man Project is an original non-fiction novel by Nathaniel Kostar, occasionally known as Nate Lost. Follow 
Read Ch1, Pt 14
Read Ch 1, Pt 13
My technique, strength, and conditioning have improved drastically since the first week. Flexibility is still a problem, but I can reach a little higher with my kicks, and they are more powerful. Dramatic increases in flexibility, apparently, isn’t something that happens in a month.
I do feel like I’m in the best shape of my life though. Pad work with Chokchai and Nong, which earlier in the month was exhausting, no longer wears me out. Sometimes at the end of workouts, Nong holds up his pad and for a minute straight I throw kick after kick. And despite my rocky start in the ring, sparring has started to be fun. I’m aware that both trainers and many of the fighters at the camp could knock me into next year if they really wanted to, but I feel more confident in what I’m doing in the ring.
One day when Chokchai and I are sparring I hit him a bit too hard and he calls time-out and leaves the ring to sit down. I can tell he’s hurting, and I feel terrible for punching a man in his head who has already taken enough beatings in his day (though he’s certainly handed out far more beatings than he’s taken).
I sit down next to him and put my arm around his shoulder.
“I’m sorry buddy. You okay?”
“Yes. Yes… Just dizzy.”
I hand him my water and he takes a sip and pours some over his head. Beads of water trickle through his hair and run down his face onto the mat.
“You fought Pacquiao, huh?” I don’t know why I say this. Or why I say it in this moment with so little tact.
For a moment Chokchai says nothing. He takes another sip of water.
“After I lose,” he says, “Pacquiao want to fight me again. He call me and ask me to fight.” He smiles in recollection, but the smile quickly fades. “He want to fight in Japan. But he don’t offer enough money. So, I say no.”
I look over at him. This is one of the few times all month I have seen him look tired.
The conversation ends as quickly as it began, and before long he shakes off his dizziness and we go back to the ring to dance circles around each other.
*
(Nong throwing a kick vs his opponent at Suwit stadium).
On Friday night, one of my last nights in Thailand, I go to the local gym to watch Nong defend Thailand’s Southeast Flyweight Muay Thai title.
The crowd is rowdy. Hard-faced men circle around the ring with dark glistening skin waving money and making bets. There is the smell of sweat and fried noodles in the air, deep drumming, and the nasal whine of the Pi Kaek, a clarinet-like instrument ubiquitous at Muay Thai fights.
A series of fights are scheduled before Nong, beginning with young kids about twelve years of age, followed by women, and proceeded by bigger and more advanced fighters.
I’m with a big group of fighters from Tiger Muay Thai who have come to watch Nong. He’s one of the most popular trainers at the camp. Behind the row of chairs where I’m sitting I can see Chokchai rubbing him down with an oil lubricant intended to help punches and kicks slide off the body. As Chokchai massages his calves and thighs, Nong’s lean, hard muscles nearly sparkle under the gymnasium lights. Then the announcer introduces the fighters in Thai, and Nong and his opponent, a younger but equally fit-looking man, emerge from their corners of the gym, duck under the ropes and simultaneously perform the Wai Kru.
Before the fight begins, Nong appears relaxed and confident. His eyes are soft, like the way Lars says ours should be in meditation, and he wears the slightest hint of a smile on his face. It was only a few days ago that he told me he’s fought over 500 fights. I still don’t know if this is an exaggeration, but if the number is anywhere near that, I’m sure his nerves are at ease.
The first round begins slowly. The fighters seem to be feeling each other out, and Nong does more blocking than anything else. Then, suddenly, as though it was written, Nong ducks his left shoulder and in a quick fluid lunge forward explodes with an uppercut that lifts his opponent into the air and sends him down to the canvas with a hard thud. The crowd explodes in a roar. Everyone knows the fighter is not getting up. It is the first knockout of the night, and Nong circles the ring with his fist raised to the ceiling and a smile as big as Thailand stretched across his face.
Chokchai runs into the ring and wraps his arms around Nong’s waist and lifts him into the air. Nong looks over to the group of fighters from Tiger, his students, a hodgepodge of foreigners from around the world, and pumps his fist. We go wild—shouting, high fiving, hugging. In a moment like a flash I realize how much is at stake in the ring. How much can be won or lost with a single blow. The other fighter is slow to rise and must be walked to the back of the gym for medical attention. He passes us with dazed eyes.
Tomorrow at noon, Nong is scheduled to train me for an hour. I will pay him 600 baht (around $20) for the session, and the gym, I imagine, will take a hefty percentage.
Tomorrow, Nong will be just another Muay Thai fighter in a land filled with Muay Thai fighters; just another trainer making a living. Because Nong is only 5’3,” I will look down on him as he instructs me. But tonight, in this moment, as
Chokchai raises him above the crowd and the gymnasium erupts in a fury of excitement, he’s the tallest man alive.
(Tiger Muay Thai group with Nong and Tony after the fight)
When it comes time to leave Tiger Muay Thai after a month of training, I’m sad to go. I’m in the best shape of my life, and I feel that I’m just beginning to grasp the fundamentals of the art. I didn’t hit my goal of training for one hundred hours (I did ninety-five), but I know the real reason for choosing that number was to push myself, and I did.
I’ll likely never step inside a ring, and I hope I never get in a fight for the rest of my life, but I know now I’d be a little more confident if a situation called for me to defend myself.
The game isn’t perfection, it’s intense participation. Not mastery, but competence and a willingness to learn. And it’s not about Muay Thai, or even martial arts, but about becoming stronger, more disciplined, listening and learning from the masters, and from your own body.
At Tony’s in an orange dusk, I say goodbye to my friends and trainers, stuff my boxing gloves and hand wraps into my backpacker’s bag, and leave by bus for Bangkok.
I will fly back to the United States for a few months, save my money, then set out to complete the next stage of my Renaissance Man project; studying art (and perhaps drinking a bit of wine) in Paris.
The Renaissance Man Project has been in the works for many years and I'm excited to release pieces of it on Steemit. If you want to support the book please hit me w/ an Upvote & Follow
I also make music. My first album, Love 'n' Travel, was recorded in New Orleans, LA by Db Productions and is available on Spotify and Bandcamp
Twitter @NateLostWords
Facebook @NateLostArt/
NateLost.com.
More Installents of the Renaissance Man Project
Read Intro, Part 1
Read Intro, Part 2
Read Intro, Part 3
Read Intro, Part 4
Read Ch 1, Part 1
Read Ch 1, Part 2
Read Ch 1, Part 3
Read Ch1, Part4
Read Ch 1, Part 5
Read Ch 1, Part 6
Read Ch 1, Part 7
Read Ch 1, Part 8
Read Ch 1, Part 9. Yoga