Fully Human

I came across a post on X that referenced a sculpture called The Boxer at Rest. The piece is a Hellenistic bronze from around 100 BC depicting exactly what you’d expect: a boxer at rest, presumably between bouts, maybe even between rounds. Judging from his condition, it could be right after a fight. The lighter-colored curls and streaks on the bronze, made of copper, represent blood. His nose is broken, his ears cauliflowered, his face cut up, his lips swollen, his torso bruised and battered. As he sits exhausted, he still wears the himántes—the leather hand wraps that served as gloves.

What fascinates me about the sculpture and the post—apart from my interest in boxing—is the claim that although hundreds of ancient statues depict athletes, almost all of them show the winners: runners, wrestlers, boxers, all sculpted in graceful poses of triumph. Hardly any show the defeated. I don’t know if that’s true; it sounds questionable. But even so, I find the losers far more compelling than the winners. Why is that?

You could take the low road and accuse me of being a loser myself, or dress it up with a line about birds of a feather. I wouldn’t mind. The reason is that I had an insight this week that has turned losing into winning, which makes my coming across The Boxer at Rest more than coincidental (cf. Synchronicity). The insight is this: losing, defeat, failure, imperfection, and missing the mark (hamartia) are what make us human and separate us from machines. They are foibles, certainly, but they are also the inevitable signs of our condition. We are guilty of one thing only: being human.

I take comfort in that—not as an excuse for bad behavior, but as a way of understanding the struggle of being human and accepting people who, time and again, demonstrate just how weak they are. In a word, it keeps us honest. But only if we are honest with ourselves first and seek forgiveness second.

You would have thought I learned this years ago, but there’s a marathon of distance between learning and knowing. It has taken me a lifetime of getting pummeled to appreciate the distance. Admittedly, most of the pummeling has been self‑inflicted, but that doesn’t make the ribs any less sore. I just hope this newly appreciated knowledge has enough time to blossom.

Saint Paul takes on even greater meaning now: “’My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness’… for when I am weak, then am I strong” (2 Cor 12:9–10).

I look at the photo of the two athletes (upper left): the boxer is seated, battered, resting; the other stands before him with what looks like a javelin in his hand. Is he getting ready for his own contest? I can almost hear him saying, “You got your ass handed to you again, Apo, so don’t look at me like that. But you did it. You made it to the end. Now go home.”

It’s that “making it to the end” that impresses me the most. It’s what I aim for. I don’t mind dying old and leaving a homely corpse (it’s too late to die young and leave a good‑looking one), as long as it gives me enough time to finish the race, the round, the rally. That way, I can finally get over…the sins, the cringe, the acts of cowardice, the moments of regret, the commissions, the omissions, the bullying, the deceit—all the things that reveal me as human, imperfect, and weak.

If I can do that, wouldn’t it be a fully human life? And not a bad way to leave the ring, either.

Images: Boxer at Rest by Vicenç Valcárcel Pérez, licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0; Boxer of Quirinal, Morton’s Toe, Cestus by Carole Raddato, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0; Head by Miguel Hermoso Cuesta, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0; Cauliflower ear by Rabax63, licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0; and Experimental Color Reconstruction by Aquaplaning, licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0. All images accessed May 22, 2026. Source material from Boxer at Rest. Want more? Click on Amazon above right for other publications or go to Robert Brancatelli. Visit other blog readers under “Who You Are.” Leave a comment by clicking on the Comment tab above. This post is dedicated this Memorial Day to those who have died for this country.