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I had no idea until now who my opposite would be, just that she would be of a similar height and weight to me and roughly matched in ability.

I later find out she’s 25, has been training for a couple of years, after what started as an endeavour to lose weight became a love affair with the sport.

I can feel the flush of adrenalin in my legs as I walk through the crowds into the ring, the sound of my chosen music (a suitably aggressive hip-hop track) booming from the stereo.

I’m flanked by my corner man for the bout, Richie Kyle, fellow Third Space personal trainer and friend of Cathy’s.

The truth is that the very idea of being hit, especially in the face, terrified me; boxing ‘proper’ was something that other tougher, stronger women did. Granted, Nicola Adams is a different height and weight to me and would thus compete in a different category, but she hardly looks like a killer.

I no longer want to socialise and stop going out for dinner with friends, choosing instead to prepare the correct, nutrient-dense food for the five to six meals a day that I need to eat in order to sustain my body and mind through such a gruelling regime.

More than this, though, some very intense emotions are rearing their ugly heads.

But even this, however tactless, is tolerable – people have their reasons for disliking boxing, a sport which, although I consider it more like a physical game of chess than two people beating each other up, certainly has a gruesome, violent edge.

What I find unacceptable is that there are those who seem only to dislike women’s boxing.