A write-up of my bout last Friday is more than overdue, but has been delayed by, well, life. My hectic schedule outside of the gym has continued - part play, mostly work - and kept me from putting together a colorful post about fight night.
But, long story short, my bout could not have gone better.
Seriously.
The biggest problem with trying to give a first-person narration of a boxing match is that, in the heat of battle, you're a little (way) too preoccupied to take detailed mental notes and outline your blog post in real-time. Each and every step, bend, punch and fluid movement gives way to the next so quickly that each is instantaneously forgotten - melding into the gelatinous mess of adrenaline-laden memories, while setting the stage for each of its successors.
As such, I remember flashes of each round - the satisfying pop of a counter right down the shoot, "knowing" a hook was coming next and beating it with one of my own - but am nowhere near able to piece together a semblance of a play-by-play.
I don't know why I keep thinking I ever will be...
So Reader's Digest version: Round 1 was very much the typical "feel-out" round. I've come to learn that I'm very good at these rounds - more often than not my opponent is more wound up than I am, so I'm able to dictate the pace by just keeping my guard high and jab in his face, conserving some energy, not showing all my cards and only throwing power punches when they're absolutely appropriate. I used this efficient - but effective - approach to win the first round, taking some detailed notes (do's and don'ts) back to my corner.
Round 2 didn't go as planned, as my opponent made some adjustments of his own and, rather than cooperating and keeping his head on a tee, busted out some lateral movement that made by punches hook and loop a little too wildly. Luckily, this was more me missing big (and wild) than me missing badly - the difference being that missing badly gets you rocked, while missing big just makes you look like a jackass for finishing every combination with an errant haymaker.
My cornermen scolded me between rounds - as if I didn't know I had gotten ahead of myself throwing bombs - and told me to go back to keeping my jab in his face and let the right hands come to me - shorten them, quit loading up, and throw them when there's an opening rather than, well, when there's not.
Round 3 was mine. Mine mine mine. Controlling both the ring as well as the tempo with a healthy diet of 1-2's, I figured out my opponent's shenanigans and kept catching him with rights as he tried to dance away. I caught him with an especially hard cross as the 30-second bell rang, so, smelling blood (as if I didn't already need the motivation - the 30-second bell in the 3rd round unleashes something alien and angry in me) I was all over the kid in a heartbeat, ripping hooks and body shots as he leaned against the ropes. Knowing how much trouble he was in, I stepped back and nodded, spitting out a "let's finish strong, baby!" through my double-end mouthpiece to make sure he was still with me. He nodded, we touched gloves, and he took his beating like a man.
Which isn't me talking trash - he was a classy kid, got gassed, caught, and whupped in the final round. It's hard to explain - it was part warrior's code, part exhibition-mentality, part me just wanting to make a point rather than leave a mark.
Whatever the case, the sum result was that I simultaneously put on a hell of an exhibition while getting some very quality rounds in. When I got sloppy, he made me pay. When I kept it tight and fought my game, I took over. And most importantly, when I had to dig deep in the final seconds, I found a huge reservoir of energy that let me finish the fight with a resounding, dominating sequence. It was a competitive bout that gave me some more direction and experience, but all in all I could not be any happier with how I prepared and performed.
While my training didn't reflect it this week, I plan on taking all the steps necessary to be able to build off this fight and repeat it. However good it's felt basking in a strong performance, my work has only just begun.
Showing posts with label bout. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bout. Show all posts
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Pre-fight Shivvers
So it's the night before my first bout in months (far too long) and I can't help but be anxious. I usually don't get uppity the day/night/moment before a bout, but I can't help but feel like this week has seriously hindered my fight prep.
In my last post I mentioned that, since my bout was postponed from its original date, I was going to taper this "extra" week - ease off the gas, rest my body and fine-tune my game to make everything "click" at the right time. What's happened instead is that I've fought the flu and been swamped at work, so instead of tapering and peaking, I've shut boxing off altogether to sniffle my way through a 50-hour work week. Such is life, but, well, let's go back to the start of this "bonus" week...
After some great weekend workouts, I set-up a sparring session for Monday. What was planned as a light "walk-through" of sorts turned into a three-man, alternating battle royale that lasted 12 rounds. While ordinarily this would have been a great workout that got me valuable in-ring experience as well as a top-notch cardio workout, doing it 96 hours before my bout resulted in me getting way too banged up and worn down - especially by "tapering" standards. What's more, I wore my 20 oz. gloves (my lobster claws) so, in addition to punishing my back and shoulders with the added weight, I took a few shots that I ordinarily would parry in 14 or 16 oz. gloves. Immediately after the fact, I figured this "unplanned" strain could be slept off the next few days. Little did I know, the flu was lurking...
I woke up with a cold on Tuesday that I still haven't quite gotten over. Given my physical state and ever-growing to-do list at work, I haven't had the time or energy to work out since Monday - it's been three days of work --> home --> cold medicine --> bed.
I remember my high school track and cross country coaches always emphasizing how the workouts the days immediately before a big race - while light - were critical for your body to continue to build and capitalize on the training up to that point. Here's to hoping that the same rules don't apply for boxing...
I'm not worried about my preparation the past weeks and months. I know I've trained my tail off, pushed myself as hard as I could and improved leaps and bounds physically and technically since opening "camp." My anxiety stems from the other end of the spectrum - that, by squandering (through no fault of my own) the days leading up to my fight, I won't be able to fully cash-in and peak at 101% capacity.
That, and there's a fairly large crew of first-time spectators who have committed to attend and watch me throw down. I know it's an exhibition. I know I fight for me and my love for the sport and nothing else. But at the same time, this is just an exhibition - how can you not consider the impression you'll make on others as you take inventory the night before a fight? I want to be 101% ready and throw 1001 punches in 12 minutes and make an impression on people that I am a boxer and I trained like hell to kick some kid from Brockton's ass.
I've been thrown for a loop, but life never proceeds on a straight path. Nor is it ever easy. Nor particularly kind to me. But while I'm off-kilter now, I know exactly how I'll feel this time tomorrow when the bell rings and I step out of my corner.
I'll feel at home. I'll be ready to box. And I'll know that - regardless of who's in the hundreds watching or what I did the night before or what my work rate or punch count is - that I did everything possible to overcome all obstacles, train hard, and get myself ready to put it all together and make it happen in the ring.
In my last post I mentioned that, since my bout was postponed from its original date, I was going to taper this "extra" week - ease off the gas, rest my body and fine-tune my game to make everything "click" at the right time. What's happened instead is that I've fought the flu and been swamped at work, so instead of tapering and peaking, I've shut boxing off altogether to sniffle my way through a 50-hour work week. Such is life, but, well, let's go back to the start of this "bonus" week...
After some great weekend workouts, I set-up a sparring session for Monday. What was planned as a light "walk-through" of sorts turned into a three-man, alternating battle royale that lasted 12 rounds. While ordinarily this would have been a great workout that got me valuable in-ring experience as well as a top-notch cardio workout, doing it 96 hours before my bout resulted in me getting way too banged up and worn down - especially by "tapering" standards. What's more, I wore my 20 oz. gloves (my lobster claws) so, in addition to punishing my back and shoulders with the added weight, I took a few shots that I ordinarily would parry in 14 or 16 oz. gloves. Immediately after the fact, I figured this "unplanned" strain could be slept off the next few days. Little did I know, the flu was lurking...
I woke up with a cold on Tuesday that I still haven't quite gotten over. Given my physical state and ever-growing to-do list at work, I haven't had the time or energy to work out since Monday - it's been three days of work --> home --> cold medicine --> bed.
I remember my high school track and cross country coaches always emphasizing how the workouts the days immediately before a big race - while light - were critical for your body to continue to build and capitalize on the training up to that point. Here's to hoping that the same rules don't apply for boxing...
I'm not worried about my preparation the past weeks and months. I know I've trained my tail off, pushed myself as hard as I could and improved leaps and bounds physically and technically since opening "camp." My anxiety stems from the other end of the spectrum - that, by squandering (through no fault of my own) the days leading up to my fight, I won't be able to fully cash-in and peak at 101% capacity.
That, and there's a fairly large crew of first-time spectators who have committed to attend and watch me throw down. I know it's an exhibition. I know I fight for me and my love for the sport and nothing else. But at the same time, this is just an exhibition - how can you not consider the impression you'll make on others as you take inventory the night before a fight? I want to be 101% ready and throw 1001 punches in 12 minutes and make an impression on people that I am a boxer and I trained like hell to kick some kid from Brockton's ass.
I've been thrown for a loop, but life never proceeds on a straight path. Nor is it ever easy. Nor particularly kind to me. But while I'm off-kilter now, I know exactly how I'll feel this time tomorrow when the bell rings and I step out of my corner.
I'll feel at home. I'll be ready to box. And I'll know that - regardless of who's in the hundreds watching or what I did the night before or what my work rate or punch count is - that I did everything possible to overcome all obstacles, train hard, and get myself ready to put it all together and make it happen in the ring.
Friday, February 20, 2009
What the Hell?
This week has, all things considered, been great. This week has also - looking back at the major events - left me wondering/muttering/exclaiming "what the hell?" far too often.
What. The hell.
What the hell?!
It's universal. Let's explore...
WTH #1: My bout was postponed
So I've been training my butt of for a bout originally scheduled for this Saturday, 2/21. I was informed Monday that, thanks to President's Day, this week is a "holiday week" for the branch of Boston City Council that issues alcohol permits. As such, they wouldn't issue any new permits this week. At all. None. The whole week. Because of President's Day. What the hell.
Given that the gym makes it's money from the bar and caterer on Fight Nights (admission goes to charity) the owner decided to postpone the card for one week. So I now have a bout next Friday, 2/27. As far as preparation goes, I'm actually a little better off. (I can peak now instead of "plateauing" - I'm more than ready for the bout, but now I can get a few more sparring sessions in, taper and rest up, and really peak peak. Not just your usual peak. It makes sense in my head, don't worry.) As far as scheduling goes, I'm peeved. I've mentally prepared for weeks to fight on the 21st, I've had to send multiple mass texts and emails to friends and colleagues who wanted to attend, and now I have to fight on a weekday. While this is (obviously) doable, it's definitely not ideal to work all day Friday and lug my crap (gym bag is extra heavy for a bout) to the gym and then cool my heels until the bell rings. But such is the life of an 8-5er (scratch that, let's be honest, I've been a 7-7er in the office lately.)
Verdict: What the hell?!?! And an extra shame on you to the Boston selectmen who refused to meet and keep the booze flowing. I swear, this is the most backasswards state ever.
Note: Thank you for all the well-wishes in anticipation of my originally scheduled bout. I appreciate the gesture, apologize for any inconvenience (sorry, only can update the blog once/week) and ask that you please keep me in your thoughts for just a little longer. Make sure to send the puncher's luck my way again next week!
WTH #2: Sparring with an ignoramus
Spent Preisdent's Day moving around with a guy I've never met that one of the trainer's connected me with. It was supposed to be just a light, long, "feel-out" sort of session, but it quickly turned into me aggressively defending his bullrushes and adding a little pop on my counterpunches to encourage him to simmer down. (I can't be the only boxer out there that finds it unbelivably irritating to set paramaters before sparring and then have them broken, especially when there's a talent discrepancy.) Unfortunately, me snapping his head back repeatedly didn't get him to mellow out. The haymakers quit flying only when he tired himself out...and then quit in the middle of the 3rd round.
Verdict: What the hell...is wrong with people?! Still had a great workout, but nobody benefits from one dude (me) beating the hell out of another (him) because someone (him) can't keep their feistiness at a minimum once they get in the ring. Whatever.
WTH #3: Sparring with a salty veteran
Moved around with a buddy from the gym who I've never sparred with before. He's in there all the time, competes regularly, and it's kind of beyond reason that I've never worked with him before. (By day he's a sales rep for a beer company - maybe us day-shifters subconsciously respect each other too much to pummel each other.)
But yeah, salty veteran, he was good. No matter how much I channeled my inner-Pacquiao, I couldn't - for the life of me - land more than one punch at a time or get him off-balance. He seemed to always always always have his legs under him so no matter what he was doing, he was doing it with authority. Apparently I was tipping my lead right too. After getting hit with multiple lead hooks (on my ear, right behind my glove, despite me looking for the same punch over and over) in round 4, I literally dropped my gloves and asked "what the hell am I doing for you to land that same punch?" He told me, and I quit doing it. Lesson learned, and 6 rounds well spent.
Verdict: What the hell...am I doing wrong?! Some lessons have to be learned in the ring, and this is exactly why quality (but controlled) sparring is essential for any amateur boxer. Or so they say. I know I won't be tipping my right and getting caught with any hooks next Saturday...
WTH #4: The bruise along my brow line
I woke up the morning after sparring with the vet with a purple bruise streaking across more than half of the top fold in my brow. Luckily my hair covered it a little (and it has since healed and faded surprisingly quickly) so I didn't have to explain to too many co-workers "I borrowed a friend's headgear, it was a size too small...so I got this weird, odd-shaped bruise." It looked like I took a purple pen and connected the dots across the right side of my forehead. It was absurd. I hate getting marked up, I hate explaining what happened, I hate the color purple and...bleh! Thank goodness new (proper-fitting) gear is in the mail and shame on me for using sub-par equipment. My first and last random, horizontal forehead bruise...
Verdict: What the hell? Haha...just...what the hell... (Why me?!)
WTH #5: Yuriorkis Gamboa defying the rules of the sweet science.
Keep your hands up? Naw, he doesn't need to, he's too quick. Square up? Sure, why not, he can unload with both hands quicker that way, counterpunches be damned. Break the speed of light? Sure looks like it - them fists be flying. Put athleticism (and arrogance?) over technique? Sure, why not, it's gotten him this far, and a gold medal along the way.
I always look forward to watching Gamboa fight and, while I could technically go out tonight since my bout's pushed back, I'm still going to stay in to watch El Ciclon de Guantánamo. Why? Because he leaves me wondering...
Verdict: What the hell...does it take to move like that? What the hell was he thinking dropping his hand and getting dropped?! What the hell's this guy's ceiling? Gamboa is one of the more entertaining and intriguing prospects out there, and while he leaves some speechless, I'm always left in awe and with plenty to talk about. And if I had that much raw talent, shoot, I wouldn't be earning a nickname, I'd already have one too. After all, we've got tornados in KC too...
What. The hell.
What the hell?!
It's universal. Let's explore...
WTH #1: My bout was postponed
So I've been training my butt of for a bout originally scheduled for this Saturday, 2/21. I was informed Monday that, thanks to President's Day, this week is a "holiday week" for the branch of Boston City Council that issues alcohol permits. As such, they wouldn't issue any new permits this week. At all. None. The whole week. Because of President's Day. What the hell.
Given that the gym makes it's money from the bar and caterer on Fight Nights (admission goes to charity) the owner decided to postpone the card for one week. So I now have a bout next Friday, 2/27. As far as preparation goes, I'm actually a little better off. (I can peak now instead of "plateauing" - I'm more than ready for the bout, but now I can get a few more sparring sessions in, taper and rest up, and really peak peak. Not just your usual peak. It makes sense in my head, don't worry.) As far as scheduling goes, I'm peeved. I've mentally prepared for weeks to fight on the 21st, I've had to send multiple mass texts and emails to friends and colleagues who wanted to attend, and now I have to fight on a weekday. While this is (obviously) doable, it's definitely not ideal to work all day Friday and lug my crap (gym bag is extra heavy for a bout) to the gym and then cool my heels until the bell rings. But such is the life of an 8-5er (scratch that, let's be honest, I've been a 7-7er in the office lately.)
Verdict: What the hell?!?! And an extra shame on you to the Boston selectmen who refused to meet and keep the booze flowing. I swear, this is the most backasswards state ever.
Note: Thank you for all the well-wishes in anticipation of my originally scheduled bout. I appreciate the gesture, apologize for any inconvenience (sorry, only can update the blog once/week) and ask that you please keep me in your thoughts for just a little longer. Make sure to send the puncher's luck my way again next week!
WTH #2: Sparring with an ignoramus
Spent Preisdent's Day moving around with a guy I've never met that one of the trainer's connected me with. It was supposed to be just a light, long, "feel-out" sort of session, but it quickly turned into me aggressively defending his bullrushes and adding a little pop on my counterpunches to encourage him to simmer down. (I can't be the only boxer out there that finds it unbelivably irritating to set paramaters before sparring and then have them broken, especially when there's a talent discrepancy.) Unfortunately, me snapping his head back repeatedly didn't get him to mellow out. The haymakers quit flying only when he tired himself out...and then quit in the middle of the 3rd round.
Verdict: What the hell...is wrong with people?! Still had a great workout, but nobody benefits from one dude (me) beating the hell out of another (him) because someone (him) can't keep their feistiness at a minimum once they get in the ring. Whatever.
WTH #3: Sparring with a salty veteran
Moved around with a buddy from the gym who I've never sparred with before. He's in there all the time, competes regularly, and it's kind of beyond reason that I've never worked with him before. (By day he's a sales rep for a beer company - maybe us day-shifters subconsciously respect each other too much to pummel each other.)
But yeah, salty veteran, he was good. No matter how much I channeled my inner-Pacquiao, I couldn't - for the life of me - land more than one punch at a time or get him off-balance. He seemed to always always always have his legs under him so no matter what he was doing, he was doing it with authority. Apparently I was tipping my lead right too. After getting hit with multiple lead hooks (on my ear, right behind my glove, despite me looking for the same punch over and over) in round 4, I literally dropped my gloves and asked "what the hell am I doing for you to land that same punch?" He told me, and I quit doing it. Lesson learned, and 6 rounds well spent.
Verdict: What the hell...am I doing wrong?! Some lessons have to be learned in the ring, and this is exactly why quality (but controlled) sparring is essential for any amateur boxer. Or so they say. I know I won't be tipping my right and getting caught with any hooks next Saturday...
WTH #4: The bruise along my brow line
I woke up the morning after sparring with the vet with a purple bruise streaking across more than half of the top fold in my brow. Luckily my hair covered it a little (and it has since healed and faded surprisingly quickly) so I didn't have to explain to too many co-workers "I borrowed a friend's headgear, it was a size too small...so I got this weird, odd-shaped bruise." It looked like I took a purple pen and connected the dots across the right side of my forehead. It was absurd. I hate getting marked up, I hate explaining what happened, I hate the color purple and...bleh! Thank goodness new (proper-fitting) gear is in the mail and shame on me for using sub-par equipment. My first and last random, horizontal forehead bruise...
Verdict: What the hell? Haha...just...what the hell... (Why me?!)
WTH #5: Yuriorkis Gamboa defying the rules of the sweet science.
Keep your hands up? Naw, he doesn't need to, he's too quick. Square up? Sure, why not, he can unload with both hands quicker that way, counterpunches be damned. Break the speed of light? Sure looks like it - them fists be flying. Put athleticism (and arrogance?) over technique? Sure, why not, it's gotten him this far, and a gold medal along the way.
I always look forward to watching Gamboa fight and, while I could technically go out tonight since my bout's pushed back, I'm still going to stay in to watch El Ciclon de Guantánamo. Why? Because he leaves me wondering...
Verdict: What the hell...does it take to move like that? What the hell was he thinking dropping his hand and getting dropped?! What the hell's this guy's ceiling? Gamboa is one of the more entertaining and intriguing prospects out there, and while he leaves some speechless, I'm always left in awe and with plenty to talk about. And if I had that much raw talent, shoot, I wouldn't be earning a nickname, I'd already have one too. After all, we've got tornados in KC too...
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
From Brighton to Madison Square Garden
I still don’t know whether I want to talk about my bout last week. I’ve heard nothing but compliments (“great fight, you looked good, he wanted nothing to do with you,”) assurances (“he was tall and stayed away, what more could you do?”) and verbal pats-on-the-butt (“hey, great fight, better that you had your ‘dang, he’s tall’ bout now instead of in the Golden Gloves”) from my gymmates, trainer and friends in attendance. But at the same time, I've never been more frustrated in the ring, nor grumbled more negativity (and expletives) immediately after. But then again, maybe it's good I - the one who has to learn from and build off this - am the only one with the chip on my shoulder.
The fight was basically a 30-second sequence cycling for 12 minutes, despite my very best efforts to break it. But alas, the kid had a 4-6 inch height advantage and made sure that this cycle would go on. And on. And on. Until the bell. My color commentary:
- I’d circle and move forward, he’d throw a stiff jab and step out.
- I’d stalk my way in, he’d throw another jab and step out.
- I’d lead with an overhand right (landing more often than not), move in, try to flurry with 1-2s and body shots, occasionally land some stiff shots, and have him tie me up.
- We’d step back, he’d jab and step out.
- Knowing I’d have a tough time circling in, I’d stand in front of him. He’d step in, jab and step back out.
- I’d circle, chase him, and deflect another jab…
It was very Rocky-esque. And unbelievably frustrating.
And by frustrating I mean infuriating.
Oh, and to quickly explain the Rocky comparison (they’ve been showing Rocky III and IV a lot lately and I, of course, have been watching) - I always felt like Rocky ate a lot of jabs; dozens each round for the first 8 rounds before he’d just walk through them and land 239 straight hooks and knock his opponent down. Which is kind of what I did. Only I wasn’t a bloody, battered mess. And I didn’t score a kayo. I just got jabbed…and irritated.
Anyway, my opponent wasn’t just tall, but fought tall. And smart. He kept his front leg out and straight, kept his head back, used his lord-knows-how-many inch reach advantage with a steady stream of jabs, and wasn’t scared to go in reverse at a moment’s notice. So kudos to him I guess, and a thank-you for teaching me a lesson in how to counter your stereotypical big, dumb, lanky boxer. I'm confident that, with some additional “tall-guy” preparation these next weeks, I won’t have the same problems getting inside and letting my hands go if I ever run into him or another kid that tall (and defensive) again.
Other recent developments:
- I jammed my thumb again during my bout, re-aggravating the most aggravating injury I’ve ever had. It sill flares up but is feeling better enough already that I’m not worried. Yet.
- I won’t outline the workouts, but I've been training hard and feeling very good since my bout. Given my thumb’s moodiness, I’m very timid with certain gloves and drills, but I’ve been getting my road work and cross-training in (usually the easiest workouts to neglect) and have been really pushing myself in the gym. I'm eyeing a December 12 bout and already training as if it’s my last. It's not, but the urgency and zeal is there - something I sometimes lack as I "go through the motions" of training.
- Went to NYC for the Calzaghe/Jones fight and a boozy weekend with my old roommate. I made 14,000 new Welsh friends, saw a living legend dominate a fight in the "Mecca of Boxing" and had an all-around phenomenal weekend. That, and I expensed the tickets, wahoo! Ah, boxing, bringing people together.
Speaking of great weekends, it’s becoming clear that my new job won’t hinder my training at all. AT ALL. Not only is my office located just a short walk from my gym, but my hours are pretty regular and “normal” and my co-workers are very supportive.
It’s my social life the past two weeks that’s caused the only hiccups in my regimen and given me a wee bit cause for concern that I’m building myself up but still not going to "truly" peak. My crazy weekend in NYC, Celtics and Bruins games, not wanting to ALWAYS tell friends and co-workers “nope, sorry, sparring in
But at the same time, maybe I’m just searching for problems. It wasn’t my cardio or strength or speed or stamina that frustrated me in my bout last week, it was my size and strategy – only one of which I can help. And next time, regardless of my career and hobbies, I’m training to be more than ready, so no matter how tall he is or how dumb I fight, I'm going to knock his head off.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Best Workout at the Best Possible Time
Despite having my November 1 fight confirmed last Friday - just 8 days in advance - I've been training the past few weeks with the zeal, determination and sense of urgency as if the date had been circled all year.
This has been the kind of week that really makes me wish I write in here more often. And not so there would be more content so much as more updates, especially now that I'm definitely hitting my stride. I think a lot of said updates have been shortened and thrown out on Twitter rather than developed into a brief post here. Oh well. Just know that the sweat's been pouring, leather flyin', endorphines rushin' and, most importantly, confidence building.
Recap of the workout schedule:
- Mon 10/20: 12 min jump rope, 3 rds shadow box, 3 rds sparring, bag circuit (3 rds each hook/double-end/heavy bags), ab circuit (50 each sit-up/crunches/swiss ball crunch, 3x15 roman chair)
- Tues 10/21: Upper body circuit (3x12 bench, 4x15 bicep curl, 3x12 forearm curl, 3x15 tricep pull-down, 3x12 tricep extension, 3x12 each lat pull-down close/wide grip, 4x15 shrug), ab circuit, 3 interval miles
- Wed 10/22: 4-mile jog in the morning, 12 min jump rope, 3 rds shadow box, bag circuit (3 bags x 4 rds)
- Thurs 10/23: Rest and beer, hooray!
- Fri 10/24: 12 min jump rope, 3 rds shadow box, 4 rds focus mitts, bag circuit (3 bags x 3 rd)
- Sat 10/25: Upper body circuit, ab circuit, 3 interval miles
- Sun 10/26: 12 min jump rope, 3 rds shadow box, 4 rds sparring, 4 rds focus mitts, lower body circuit (a 24-minute orgy of plyometrics, lunges, ladders, step-ups, wall-sits and everything else that makes you lose feeling in your legs and hate life)
- Mon 10/27: Rest and Tylenol and ice packs...and a beer, hooray!
- Tues 10/28: Shortened workout - 9 min jump rope, bag circuit (3 x 3 rds), ab circuit
- Wed 10/29: The best. Workout. Ever.
And by best I mean the look good/feel good/fight good/have an epiphany 'cause "damn I'm good" sort of workout that completely changes your outlook on life. (Or comes close enough.)
I strolled into the gym Wednesday and was immediately greeted by the gym owner, who said he had someone for me to spar with. (Psh, "hey, how ya doing's" are so totally unnecessary.) I stammered around for a second, thinking about how sparring this close to fight night would fit in with my regimented pre-fight schedule. (It didn't.) That, and I was physically and mentally unprepared to spar.
But of course, 30 minutes later I was gloved up and loose, standing in the red corner as the owner cleared the ring of a couple women working mitts so we could just "move around a little, real light" and "get a feel for each other." All I knew about this kid was that he was from Somerville, had been boxing for a decade, liked to throw bombs, and that I didn't particularly want to be in there anyway. But such is life in the squared circle.
The first round was as true of a "feeling-out" round for me as possible. I pawed with my jab, tried to pick up patterns in the other kid's movements, threw single punches at a time, and got a feel for this kid's speed (good), movement (head was good, feet were so-so, punches were wild) and power (solid).
While I won the first round (no, no one was scoring, but it was definitely mine - seriously! It was very Hopkins-esque) I cranked the intensity up from 7 to 8 in the second round. Instead of simply sticking, moving and counter punching, I started jumping in with combinations and pivoting/moving back out. Midway through the round, it was becoming increasingly apparent that I was the better boxer. Apparently my opponent was reaching the same conclusion around the 30-second mark but was a little grumpier about it, as he steered me into a corner (I was OK with it until...) and unleashed a barrage of haymakers that had that extra "I'm really pissed off" power and sloppiness to them.
I managed to slip/block/duck/cover-up and absorb the vast majority of the looping punches and danced back out into the middle of the ring - only after landing a stiff (cautionary) counter right-uppercut combo.
Hey, if the kid shows his teeth, I don't have to bite but I can't help but growl back...
In between rounds, the gym owner asked the kid why he was turning this into Gatti/Ward, to which I butted-in (warned) "Hey, I'm just feeding off of him..."
The third round began much like the second, with me being the less-aggressive but far more efficient and effective boxer. I kept a little distance for most of the round, refusing to engage and trade but keeping one eye on the ring timer all the while, waiting for the 1-minute mark to turn the intensity up (to an 11! this one goes up to 11!) and make my move. And an even bigger statement.
The first counter right I threw within 1 minute knocked the kid out of one of his shoes.
It knocked him out of a shoe.
IT KNOCKED HIM OUT OF A FRIGGIN' SHOE!
That doesn't happen in real life.
With onlookers "oooh-ing," my opponent fumbled around to stuff his foot back in his shoe (picking up his dignity along the way, hardy har) and immediately bull-rushed me again. Throwing back with quicker, crisper and straighter (the real key) punches, I had the kid against the ropes - landing at will, snapping his head back and watching his eyes lose focus - when a couple of my training partners hopped up to the ring apron to make sure I was going to ease back.
I pulled off the throttle, let the kid come back to the middle of the ring and asked him if he was alright. (Hey, I can't help it I'm too nice to knock a kid out cold just sparring.) He nodded and said that he was fine, but I wasn't convinced. Dancing around him for the final 10 seconds, I landed a stiff jab at the bell to add an exclamation point to the session - to make sure that there was no doubt in anyone's mind that I was the one feeding off of him, that he escalated but I was the one not just under control, but in control.
Which - I have to point out - is as telling sign of an effective competitive boxer as any.
After getting complimented on a job well done (as well as reassurance that I did what I had to do to defend myself) I hopped on a short 3x2 rd bag circuit and worked (arguably) the best 5 rds of focus mitts with a trainer who had never held for me before. I finished the night with a quick ab circuit and stretched out well. Shirts and shorts soaked through with sweat, my hoodie didn't take the bite out of the New England wind as I walked to the bus, wondering how my quiet pre-fight saunter turned into a marathon.
From the cardio to the technique to the proven ability to dominate an experienced boxer at-will, I left the gym thoroughly exhausted and satisfied. That "feel-good" tired.
Best. Workout. Ever.
And, starting with my bout Saturday, a sign of even better things to come.
This has been the kind of week that really makes me wish I write in here more often. And not so there would be more content so much as more updates, especially now that I'm definitely hitting my stride. I think a lot of said updates have been shortened and thrown out on Twitter rather than developed into a brief post here. Oh well. Just know that the sweat's been pouring, leather flyin', endorphines rushin' and, most importantly, confidence building.
Recap of the workout schedule:
- Mon 10/20: 12 min jump rope, 3 rds shadow box, 3 rds sparring, bag circuit (3 rds each hook/double-end/heavy bags), ab circuit (50 each sit-up/crunches/swiss ball crunch, 3x15 roman chair)
- Tues 10/21: Upper body circuit (3x12 bench, 4x15 bicep curl, 3x12 forearm curl, 3x15 tricep pull-down, 3x12 tricep extension, 3x12 each lat pull-down close/wide grip, 4x15 shrug), ab circuit, 3 interval miles
- Wed 10/22: 4-mile jog in the morning, 12 min jump rope, 3 rds shadow box, bag circuit (3 bags x 4 rds)
- Thurs 10/23: Rest and beer, hooray!
- Fri 10/24: 12 min jump rope, 3 rds shadow box, 4 rds focus mitts, bag circuit (3 bags x 3 rd)
- Sat 10/25: Upper body circuit, ab circuit, 3 interval miles
- Sun 10/26: 12 min jump rope, 3 rds shadow box, 4 rds sparring, 4 rds focus mitts, lower body circuit (a 24-minute orgy of plyometrics, lunges, ladders, step-ups, wall-sits and everything else that makes you lose feeling in your legs and hate life)
- Mon 10/27: Rest and Tylenol and ice packs...and a beer, hooray!
- Tues 10/28: Shortened workout - 9 min jump rope, bag circuit (3 x 3 rds), ab circuit
- Wed 10/29: The best. Workout. Ever.
And by best I mean the look good/feel good/fight good/have an epiphany 'cause "damn I'm good" sort of workout that completely changes your outlook on life. (Or comes close enough.)
I strolled into the gym Wednesday and was immediately greeted by the gym owner, who said he had someone for me to spar with. (Psh, "hey, how ya doing's" are so totally unnecessary.) I stammered around for a second, thinking about how sparring this close to fight night would fit in with my regimented pre-fight schedule. (It didn't.) That, and I was physically and mentally unprepared to spar.
But of course, 30 minutes later I was gloved up and loose, standing in the red corner as the owner cleared the ring of a couple women working mitts so we could just "move around a little, real light" and "get a feel for each other." All I knew about this kid was that he was from Somerville, had been boxing for a decade, liked to throw bombs, and that I didn't particularly want to be in there anyway. But such is life in the squared circle.
The first round was as true of a "feeling-out" round for me as possible. I pawed with my jab, tried to pick up patterns in the other kid's movements, threw single punches at a time, and got a feel for this kid's speed (good), movement (head was good, feet were so-so, punches were wild) and power (solid).
While I won the first round (no, no one was scoring, but it was definitely mine - seriously! It was very Hopkins-esque) I cranked the intensity up from 7 to 8 in the second round. Instead of simply sticking, moving and counter punching, I started jumping in with combinations and pivoting/moving back out. Midway through the round, it was becoming increasingly apparent that I was the better boxer. Apparently my opponent was reaching the same conclusion around the 30-second mark but was a little grumpier about it, as he steered me into a corner (I was OK with it until...) and unleashed a barrage of haymakers that had that extra "I'm really pissed off" power and sloppiness to them.
I managed to slip/block/duck/cover-up and absorb the vast majority of the looping punches and danced back out into the middle of the ring - only after landing a stiff (cautionary) counter right-uppercut combo.
Hey, if the kid shows his teeth, I don't have to bite but I can't help but growl back...
In between rounds, the gym owner asked the kid why he was turning this into Gatti/Ward, to which I butted-in (warned) "Hey, I'm just feeding off of him..."
The third round began much like the second, with me being the less-aggressive but far more efficient and effective boxer. I kept a little distance for most of the round, refusing to engage and trade but keeping one eye on the ring timer all the while, waiting for the 1-minute mark to turn the intensity up (to an 11! this one goes up to 11!) and make my move. And an even bigger statement.
The first counter right I threw within 1 minute knocked the kid out of one of his shoes.
It knocked him out of a shoe.
IT KNOCKED HIM OUT OF A FRIGGIN' SHOE!
That doesn't happen in real life.
With onlookers "oooh-ing," my opponent fumbled around to stuff his foot back in his shoe (picking up his dignity along the way, hardy har) and immediately bull-rushed me again. Throwing back with quicker, crisper and straighter (the real key) punches, I had the kid against the ropes - landing at will, snapping his head back and watching his eyes lose focus - when a couple of my training partners hopped up to the ring apron to make sure I was going to ease back.
I pulled off the throttle, let the kid come back to the middle of the ring and asked him if he was alright. (Hey, I can't help it I'm too nice to knock a kid out cold just sparring.) He nodded and said that he was fine, but I wasn't convinced. Dancing around him for the final 10 seconds, I landed a stiff jab at the bell to add an exclamation point to the session - to make sure that there was no doubt in anyone's mind that I was the one feeding off of him, that he escalated but I was the one not just under control, but in control.
Which - I have to point out - is as telling sign of an effective competitive boxer as any.
After getting complimented on a job well done (as well as reassurance that I did what I had to do to defend myself) I hopped on a short 3x2 rd bag circuit and worked (arguably) the best 5 rds of focus mitts with a trainer who had never held for me before. I finished the night with a quick ab circuit and stretched out well. Shirts and shorts soaked through with sweat, my hoodie didn't take the bite out of the New England wind as I walked to the bus, wondering how my quiet pre-fight saunter turned into a marathon.
From the cardio to the technique to the proven ability to dominate an experienced boxer at-will, I left the gym thoroughly exhausted and satisfied. That "feel-good" tired.
Best. Workout. Ever.
And, starting with my bout Saturday, a sign of even better things to come.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Far from the summit, but enjoying the ride
True to form, I’m continuing to update this irregularly and train even more erratically. That’s not to say I haven’t been in the gym a lot, I just have yet to find that certain groove, that brutal comfort zone of discipline and exertion that I need to be “bout-ready.” But I'm getting there.
Speaking of bouts, I’ve been eyeing a November 1 event for my "return." Yes, that’s not even two weeks away, and yes tonight I sparred for the first time in over two months, but I’m itching for a bout and feel like I’m physically prepared to get back in the ring. Besides, it’s only an exhibition (albeit one that usually draws a huge crowd) and it’ll be a good test of whether or not my experience coupled with my (still-in-the process-of-being-rebuilt) physical prowess is enough to get by on. Then again, my cardio is far from where I’d like it to be…
But I guess that’s the point. I know I’m not back to my peak, but I know I’m (well) on my way. And I’m antsy for a good scrum. So, end of the day, what’s with the second-guessing? It’s disconcerting knowing I’m not peaking yet, but maybe I’ll surprise myself. That, and a swift kick in the ass (or right cross to the chin) might be good for me – keep the fire fueled and help knock some of the ring rust off.
More than my (unfounded?) self-doubts, the main reason that I’m not locked up for the 1st is because the gym owner never asked me if I’m available, per his usual process of signing his fighters up. I shot him an email this morning and he acknowledged it when I saw him tonight, so we’ll see if something falls into place. By the way, I don’t acknowledge him as my trainer anymore – he’s got to get in the ring and, um train me to earn that title. Petty? Absolutely not – dude ain’t training me anymore.
Some bullets about what else is going on:
- My grandma passed away last week, so I had an unexpected and unfortunate trip to KC this weekend. She was 85 and had a long, happy life, so it truly was a celebration of life and good visit home, bbut for the purpose of training it was yet another unfortunate interruption. RIP Grandma.
- But back in
- One of my sparring partners has not only begun working at the gym, but has decided to focus more on MMA. While this has yet to (and shouldn’t ever) cut into our sparring, it’s turned him into a bit of my trainer by default. He’s far more of a defensive fighter than I am and knows his stuff, so I’m optimistic that his new roles will help me a lot. Additionally, his MMA gym has recruited my old (and best) trainer to be the boxing coach there. I’ll have to see how scheduling and logistics work out, but I’m definitely excited to see how this develops and how I can incorporate some additional resources into my training.
- As mentioned in the first big paragraph, I sparred for the first time in well over a month tonight. (Hell, it’s probably been closer to two months.) I moved around with a hard-hitting brawler who never stops coming forward. And by never I mean, never ever quits stepping forward and throwing bombs. I’ve sparred with him before and usually get the better of him, outhustling and outthinking him to the point that I’m "counterboxing" rather than just counterpunching - sticking, moving, landing at will and then stepping back/out before he can even let his hands go. The 1st round was a similar story, but by the middle of the 2nd round I was slowing down and starting to get pinned against the ropes, avoiding and blocking many of his punches but getting all the more tired absorbing so many blows - counterpunching rather than “counterboxing.” (This kid is a solid competitive fighter, but, well, I can literally box circles around him when I’m in peak shape. Or not getting worn down.) I maintained my pace and output in round 3 but felt myself leaning too much, getting caught by a couple (stupid) big shots and just being a little too gassed to box effectively. But that was to be expected. A couple onlookers complemented both of us on our skillful aggression, so I didn’t feel quite as disheartened about being so gassed after three. Besides, an amateur bout’s only three rounds, so what’s the big deal, eh? Aside from constantly striving to be better, that is…
So all in all it was a great first sparring session back, the perfect measuring stick – a talented opponent pushing the pace for the entire fight, keeping me thinking and moving, boxing smart and truly seeing where I am. Which seems like a fantastic place given my recent hiatus.
I’ve got a long way to go and need to really keep buckling down – a little more attention to diet and roadwork immediately come to mind – but I’m enjoying the ride and eager to keep scaling the mountainous distractions, trials and tribulations of training.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Thumbs Down
Haven't written because I haven't been training.
My thumb is officially an issue. Tested it sparring a couple weeks ago, bumped it (didn't jam it, just made contact parrying a punch) and felt another electric pain in the base of my thumb. Could put some weight on it, but it was unbelievably sensitive to the touch to the point that I decided to just shut it down. Have cross trained a little since then, but not nearly as consistently as I'd like (need) to. Too broke and busy to get an MRI or X-Ray. A doctor would probably just tell me to shut it down and throw a splint on it anyway, so I saved myself the doctor's bill and took those steps myself. Time and relative rest does seem to be helping it heal, but the fact that it still has pain "flares" after 2 weeks (more than a month since it was initially injured) is troubling. Whatever.
You have no idea how irritated I get when I nudge it on something and have napalm shoot through the nerves in my hand. Fuming just thinking (and writing) about it. Which is silly. But I'm that frustrated and that restless to get back in the ring. Anyway...
This blog was founded largely to document how my profession would mesh with my boxing conquests. Well, right now, there's no meshing. It's been straight, pure conflict. And while I still love what I do in the office, well, I love what I do in the ring a bit more. Is that so wrong?
Work is throwing pretty long hours my way and it has become a chore to find the hours to even get to the gym during operating hours, let alone have the energy to drive myself to complete a full, satisfying workout. Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise - helping me avoid weight and contact and allowing (whatever the hell's wrong with) my thumb to heal. Or perhaps it's a royal pain.
Definitely feeling the latter.
Yesterday I canceled my August 15th fight. Haven't been training, definitely won't be "fully" training this week either, and I refuse to rush myself into a bout knowing beforehand that I'm incredibly unprepared. And hurt.
I mean, obvious decision, right? I don't know why I keep tying so hard to convince myself that it's the right decision.
Oh wait, I know why - because I don't want to.
But I need to. Need to heal. Need to train. Need to clear my frustrations, get on a better, more consistent schedule with a trainer, discipline myself now so I'm disciplined when I'm preparing.
Need to get back in there.
My thumb is officially an issue. Tested it sparring a couple weeks ago, bumped it (didn't jam it, just made contact parrying a punch) and felt another electric pain in the base of my thumb. Could put some weight on it, but it was unbelievably sensitive to the touch to the point that I decided to just shut it down. Have cross trained a little since then, but not nearly as consistently as I'd like (need) to. Too broke and busy to get an MRI or X-Ray. A doctor would probably just tell me to shut it down and throw a splint on it anyway, so I saved myself the doctor's bill and took those steps myself. Time and relative rest does seem to be helping it heal, but the fact that it still has pain "flares" after 2 weeks (more than a month since it was initially injured) is troubling. Whatever.
You have no idea how irritated I get when I nudge it on something and have napalm shoot through the nerves in my hand. Fuming just thinking (and writing) about it. Which is silly. But I'm that frustrated and that restless to get back in the ring. Anyway...
This blog was founded largely to document how my profession would mesh with my boxing conquests. Well, right now, there's no meshing. It's been straight, pure conflict. And while I still love what I do in the office, well, I love what I do in the ring a bit more. Is that so wrong?
Work is throwing pretty long hours my way and it has become a chore to find the hours to even get to the gym during operating hours, let alone have the energy to drive myself to complete a full, satisfying workout. Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise - helping me avoid weight and contact and allowing (whatever the hell's wrong with) my thumb to heal. Or perhaps it's a royal pain.
Definitely feeling the latter.
Yesterday I canceled my August 15th fight. Haven't been training, definitely won't be "fully" training this week either, and I refuse to rush myself into a bout knowing beforehand that I'm incredibly unprepared. And hurt.
I mean, obvious decision, right? I don't know why I keep tying so hard to convince myself that it's the right decision.
Oh wait, I know why - because I don't want to.
But I need to. Need to heal. Need to train. Need to clear my frustrations, get on a better, more consistent schedule with a trainer, discipline myself now so I'm disciplined when I'm preparing.
Need to get back in there.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Friend or Foe?
My bout Saturday went very well. I bussed out to my gym at 11 a.m. and carpooled to the host gym with my cornerman (a kid named Dante I had just met, but he knew his stuff) and a couple other training partners from my gym who were fighting. I don't know whether it was the smaller, more laid-back crowd and atmosphere or the fact that it felt like just another lazy Saturday afternoon at the gym, but my preparation immediately before my fight was much more relaxed and smooth than in my previous fight. Perhaps the most interesting pre-fight experience was talking with my opponent for over an hour immediately before we squared off.
I was scheduled to fight fairly late on the card, so I made myself comfortable in the auditorium and watched some of the early fights. It didn't take much small talk before I learned that the kid sitting next to me was my opponent. With the circumstances of our meeting out in the open, I knew that our conversation could go two radically different directions. So what do I do? I laughed at the irony and continued to chat with my fellow combatant. From recalling past bouts to commentating the fights in front of us to subtly scouting each other (I made sure he wasn't a friggen southpaw) we discussed each other's boxing careers and preferences as if we were old acquaintances. The only reason our conversation ended was because I had to leave to go get ready to, well, kick his ass.
Odd? I don't know, you tell me. A great way to stay relaxed (being nervous before a fight is, hands-down, the easiest way to needlessly waste a ton of energy before a fight) and pass the time before my bout? You betcha.
Learning from my mistakes in my previous fight, I intentionally shortened my warm-up, essentially cutting it in half. 2 rounds of jump rope, thorough stretching, 3 rounds of shadow boxing and 2 rounds of light mitt work was all I needed to have my blood pumping and muscles loose and enter the squared circle in my fightin' state-of-mind.
I doubled-up the fist-pounding with my opponent (friend?) in the center of the ring, once when we received the ref's instructions, and a second time during the opening seconds of the 1st round. The opening minutes went as expected - feeling each other out with prodding jabs and diving in and out for quick exchanges, but never completely committing or loading up on one punch. The kid moved very well though, and definitely had an advantage over me in terms of raw hand speed. Or at least, that's what it seemed like before I realized in the 2nd round that it was a matter of timing - he had figured me out between rounds and now wouldn't let me get any closer than jabbing distance without sticking a 1-2 in my face.
Despite losing round 2 on points (my corner confirmed my gut feeling by greeting me with "he didn't like you getting inside, so he didn't let you that round - you need to fix that" as soon as I was on the stool) I had landed enough clean power shots that I still felt good. I entered the 3rd round with my confidence up, plenty of gas in the tank and the assurance that I, too, was figuring my opponent out.
The 3rd round started with another touching of the gloves (love fest!) and passed quickly, a long cycle of circling in the middle -> quick exchange -> working into the corner -> big exchange -> off the ropes and back in the middle of the ring. I felt like I definitely caught up on points in the 3rd round, but the fight was an exhibition so there wasn't a decision. My corner man and teammates all said I looked really good, and I felt the same way. I fought a smart fight, picked my spots, didn't eat any big shots, wasn't marked up, and, had it been scored, kept it very, very close. In all likelihood my opponent might have eeked out the win by amateur scoring, but I truly believe that I would have won comfortably had it been scored like a pro bout - which, against a very experienced opponent in just my 2nd fight in over a year, is fine by me. It was an exhibition, and I exhibited skill, ability and athletic prowess. More importantly, I learned from the experience, so it's all good in my book.
In retrospect, I really think I lacked killer instinct in that bout. I don't think this can be attributed to me becoming acquainted with my opponent immediately before the fight (though that definitely didn't help) so much as the setting - the small crowd, rundown gym and afternoon event just put me in too much of a sparring session state of mind. Regardless, it was great experience, and I've piggybacked off the positives to have a phenomenal week of training. It's now embedded in my mind to stay hungry - train for the kill and don't hesitate to move in for it when you see the opportunity.
Momentum is building. Good things are happening and great things are on the horizon.
More to come soon.
Go Royals. God bless.
I was scheduled to fight fairly late on the card, so I made myself comfortable in the auditorium and watched some of the early fights. It didn't take much small talk before I learned that the kid sitting next to me was my opponent. With the circumstances of our meeting out in the open, I knew that our conversation could go two radically different directions. So what do I do? I laughed at the irony and continued to chat with my fellow combatant. From recalling past bouts to commentating the fights in front of us to subtly scouting each other (I made sure he wasn't a friggen southpaw) we discussed each other's boxing careers and preferences as if we were old acquaintances. The only reason our conversation ended was because I had to leave to go get ready to, well, kick his ass.
Odd? I don't know, you tell me. A great way to stay relaxed (being nervous before a fight is, hands-down, the easiest way to needlessly waste a ton of energy before a fight) and pass the time before my bout? You betcha.
Learning from my mistakes in my previous fight, I intentionally shortened my warm-up, essentially cutting it in half. 2 rounds of jump rope, thorough stretching, 3 rounds of shadow boxing and 2 rounds of light mitt work was all I needed to have my blood pumping and muscles loose and enter the squared circle in my fightin' state-of-mind.
I doubled-up the fist-pounding with my opponent (friend?) in the center of the ring, once when we received the ref's instructions, and a second time during the opening seconds of the 1st round. The opening minutes went as expected - feeling each other out with prodding jabs and diving in and out for quick exchanges, but never completely committing or loading up on one punch. The kid moved very well though, and definitely had an advantage over me in terms of raw hand speed. Or at least, that's what it seemed like before I realized in the 2nd round that it was a matter of timing - he had figured me out between rounds and now wouldn't let me get any closer than jabbing distance without sticking a 1-2 in my face.
Despite losing round 2 on points (my corner confirmed my gut feeling by greeting me with "he didn't like you getting inside, so he didn't let you that round - you need to fix that" as soon as I was on the stool) I had landed enough clean power shots that I still felt good. I entered the 3rd round with my confidence up, plenty of gas in the tank and the assurance that I, too, was figuring my opponent out.
The 3rd round started with another touching of the gloves (love fest!) and passed quickly, a long cycle of circling in the middle -> quick exchange -> working into the corner -> big exchange -> off the ropes and back in the middle of the ring. I felt like I definitely caught up on points in the 3rd round, but the fight was an exhibition so there wasn't a decision. My corner man and teammates all said I looked really good, and I felt the same way. I fought a smart fight, picked my spots, didn't eat any big shots, wasn't marked up, and, had it been scored, kept it very, very close. In all likelihood my opponent might have eeked out the win by amateur scoring, but I truly believe that I would have won comfortably had it been scored like a pro bout - which, against a very experienced opponent in just my 2nd fight in over a year, is fine by me. It was an exhibition, and I exhibited skill, ability and athletic prowess. More importantly, I learned from the experience, so it's all good in my book.
In retrospect, I really think I lacked killer instinct in that bout. I don't think this can be attributed to me becoming acquainted with my opponent immediately before the fight (though that definitely didn't help) so much as the setting - the small crowd, rundown gym and afternoon event just put me in too much of a sparring session state of mind. Regardless, it was great experience, and I've piggybacked off the positives to have a phenomenal week of training. It's now embedded in my mind to stay hungry - train for the kill and don't hesitate to move in for it when you see the opportunity.
Momentum is building. Good things are happening and great things are on the horizon.
More to come soon.
Go Royals. God bless.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Short Notice
My amateur boxing career is officially getting interesting. I went to the gym with my sparring partner last Saturday and ran into my trainer, who asked about my availability for bouts on June 21 and/or 27. Having discussed my scheduling conflicts on Fridays with him before (my increasingly late nights in the office and lack of a car prevent me from participating in most Friday events from fear of missing my ride or even the fight itself) I began to say "no, I'd like to, but I can't commit to either of those dates." My trainer pointed out that the 21st is a Saturday (and that the bout isn't Friday the 20th like he had originally told me) and encouraged me to fight. And thus, for the first time, I took a bout on one week's notice.
While I am obviously not a world-class pro that needs 3-6 months notice to properly train for a title fight, my training schedule has been erratic since my last bout, and having more than 7 days notice would have been nice. I am by no means in better shape now than I was a month ago, but at the same time I have maintained my conditioning enough that I'm confident a regimented week will let me adequately prepare for a fight. And I think that's my only worry - that come Saturday I won't be fully mentally-prepared, won't completely trust my body and I'll end up hesitating too much during the bout and absorb some unnecessary punches.
But then again, is there a better way to build on a successful fight than jumping right back into the squared circle?
With an above-average physical base, my training schedule the week before this fight (no weight requirement) will look like this:
Saturday: 4 rounds sparring, cardio/leg circuit, plyometrics, abs
Sunday: Weights (high-rep upper body circuit) and 4-mile run with wind sprints
Monday: 20 minute jump-rope, 4 rounds double-end bag, 4 rounds hook bag, 6 rounds heavy bag all with aggressive pace, 3 rounds focus mitts, abs
Tuesday: 4-mile run with wind sprints, Celtics game (World Champs, baby!)
Wednesday: 6 rounds sparring, 3 rounds focus mitts, cardio/leg circuit, abs
Thursday: light plyometrics, short jog
Friday: rest
Saturday: kick ass
All of this worked around 9-11 hour workdays. Bleh.
I'm truly happy that my trainer is encouraging me to fight so often, but I just hope that this quick turnaround turns out to be a positive, confidence-boosting experience instead of a tough bout that leaves me stewing for the next couple of weeks.
All I need to do is make sure that it's me - and not my opponent - that dictates the outcome of the fight and how I proceed after.
While I am obviously not a world-class pro that needs 3-6 months notice to properly train for a title fight, my training schedule has been erratic since my last bout, and having more than 7 days notice would have been nice. I am by no means in better shape now than I was a month ago, but at the same time I have maintained my conditioning enough that I'm confident a regimented week will let me adequately prepare for a fight. And I think that's my only worry - that come Saturday I won't be fully mentally-prepared, won't completely trust my body and I'll end up hesitating too much during the bout and absorb some unnecessary punches.
But then again, is there a better way to build on a successful fight than jumping right back into the squared circle?
With an above-average physical base, my training schedule the week before this fight (no weight requirement) will look like this:
Saturday: 4 rounds sparring, cardio/leg circuit, plyometrics, abs
Sunday: Weights (high-rep upper body circuit) and 4-mile run with wind sprints
Monday: 20 minute jump-rope, 4 rounds double-end bag, 4 rounds hook bag, 6 rounds heavy bag all with aggressive pace, 3 rounds focus mitts, abs
Tuesday: 4-mile run with wind sprints, Celtics game (World Champs, baby!)
Wednesday: 6 rounds sparring, 3 rounds focus mitts, cardio/leg circuit, abs
Thursday: light plyometrics, short jog
Friday: rest
Saturday: kick ass
All of this worked around 9-11 hour workdays. Bleh.
I'm truly happy that my trainer is encouraging me to fight so often, but I just hope that this quick turnaround turns out to be a positive, confidence-boosting experience instead of a tough bout that leaves me stewing for the next couple of weeks.
All I need to do is make sure that it's me - and not my opponent - that dictates the outcome of the fight and how I proceed after.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Off and running
I feel bad for not posting the results of my fight in a more timely manner, but, well, you see the rate at which I update this. My hectic life aside, not only did it feel good (correction: great) to get back into the ring, but it felt...normal. And real.
I must admit, I'm a bit surprised that I don't have the motivation to write some elegant prose about my bout experience back on the big stage (fine, maybe not that big, but it was legitimately a packed house) but I feel like that would just be a bit too melodramatic. The bout really went that well, and it really did feel that normal.
I arrived at the gym about 6:30 on Fight Night, thinking I'd be the last one there since all the fighters were supposed to report by 6:00. (Work, again, getting in the way of boxing time, but I knew I was not fighting until late and I'd be OK.) Like any good boxing event, the first fight started about 45 minutes later than it was supposed to. I settled in with my Sports Illustrated, fruit and Powerbars, and tried to pass the time in as relaxed of a state as possible before it was my time to get loose.
I went through my normal pre-workout warm-up routine, wrapped my hands, shadowboxed, and worked 2 rounds of focus mitts with Hector during the last 2 rounds of the fight immediately before mine. I didn't particularly like how fast, hard and active he had me working to get ready (he seemed more pumped than I did) but I walked to the ring loose, in the zone, and well-prepared to crush some skulls.
After noticing that the kid was about 3-4 inches shorter than me but was built sturdy and thick, I decided that it would definitely be a good idea to use the 1st round as the proverbial "feel 'em out" round. I spent the duration of the 2 rounds moving, circling away from his right hand and peppering him with 1-2's after his lumbering power punches careened off of my arms. Besides a couple of cheap shots (and they were cheap, damn it) breaking from the clinch (kid wouldn't stay off of me!) I don't think he hit me cleanly the entire round.
I went back to my corner feeling confident. A guy who I had never seen before (nor have seen since) was in my corner, with a kid named Joe from the gym helping (pamper me) with the chair, towel and water. Suddenly, my old buddy James (remember him from my 1st good workout when I started training again?) hopped up on the apron and spouted some advice between F-bombs. The strategy was simple: abandon the jab, quit dancing so much, throw lead right hands, and take it to this kid.
And take it to him I did.
The 2nd round was an absolute slugfest, with me doing the slugging and the poor kid throwing an occasional straight right to push me off of him. Leaping in with a lead right, I would string 4,5,6,8,12, Lord knows how many power punches together before hopping back out of range. Somewhere along the way I caught a stiff right hand across my nose (kid hadn't hit me much at this point, but when he did, damn it was hard) and began bleeding out of it. But then again, I've had people fart in my general direction from a block away and my nose has started bleeding, so I wasn't worried.
After picking my opponent apart for 2 minutes, the bell sounded and I turned back towards my corner smiling (ear-to-ear, baby). It was as perfect of a round as anyone could ever ask for without knocking their opponent out.
The 2nd break went very similar to the 1st: lots of swearing, Irish accents, squirts of water, and a towel shoved up my nose to stop the bleeding.
The kid was slow to come out of his corner at the start of the 3rd round, but when he did, he threw a curveball that I never recovered from: he switched up and boxed southpaw.
And I HATE southpaws.
Between a little fatigue and a lot of hesitation/overanalyzing my opponent's newfound left-hand, I spent the 3rd round standing in front of the kid far too much and throwing far too few punches. A couple buddies in attendance would later swear that I still won the 3rd round ("you easily took the first 2 rounds, and you at least got a draw if not won the 3rd") but as I went back to my corner after the final bell - my nose an open spigot of blood - I was nothing short of pissed. A dominant performance squandered by a sub-par final round. After dropping a few F-bombs of my own, my cornerman stuck the blood towel in my face and laughed "wipe this off, you won that fight. You won that fight!"
And I did.
While I was far from perfect throughout the entire match, I truly could not have asked for a better performance in my first bout "back." I put on the fight of the night (ask the gym owner - who hugged me and told me "fight of the night!" - or the dozens of gym members and spectators who told me likewise) with a technical, well-rounded win. Perhaps most importantly, I also discovered a number of areas that I need to correct before I compete again, namely making sure I don't square up so much, I prepare to throw non-stop for 3 rounds (rather than box for 3 rounds, and there IS a difference) and make sure that I rig the draw so my opponent is NOT a friggen lefty.
I'm truly off and running now with my competitive boxing career. I was back in the gym the next day, and while work and Celtics/Red Sox games have impeded my immediate training schedule, as of this weekend I am back on track and already have a couple of prospective bouts lined up for the end of this month. But more on that later. Right now I'm going to go revisit my last bout again - warming at the memories of my mind and body working as one as I landed combinations and the crowd roared, basking in the mountains of post-fight praise, and most importantly, taking notes on what I need to do to elevate my game to where I know it can be.
I must admit, I'm a bit surprised that I don't have the motivation to write some elegant prose about my bout experience back on the big stage (fine, maybe not that big, but it was legitimately a packed house) but I feel like that would just be a bit too melodramatic. The bout really went that well, and it really did feel that normal.
I arrived at the gym about 6:30 on Fight Night, thinking I'd be the last one there since all the fighters were supposed to report by 6:00. (Work, again, getting in the way of boxing time, but I knew I was not fighting until late and I'd be OK.) Like any good boxing event, the first fight started about 45 minutes later than it was supposed to. I settled in with my Sports Illustrated, fruit and Powerbars, and tried to pass the time in as relaxed of a state as possible before it was my time to get loose.
I went through my normal pre-workout warm-up routine, wrapped my hands, shadowboxed, and worked 2 rounds of focus mitts with Hector during the last 2 rounds of the fight immediately before mine. I didn't particularly like how fast, hard and active he had me working to get ready (he seemed more pumped than I did) but I walked to the ring loose, in the zone, and well-prepared to crush some skulls.
After noticing that the kid was about 3-4 inches shorter than me but was built sturdy and thick, I decided that it would definitely be a good idea to use the 1st round as the proverbial "feel 'em out" round. I spent the duration of the 2 rounds moving, circling away from his right hand and peppering him with 1-2's after his lumbering power punches careened off of my arms. Besides a couple of cheap shots (and they were cheap, damn it) breaking from the clinch (kid wouldn't stay off of me!) I don't think he hit me cleanly the entire round.
I went back to my corner feeling confident. A guy who I had never seen before (nor have seen since) was in my corner, with a kid named Joe from the gym helping (pamper me) with the chair, towel and water. Suddenly, my old buddy James (remember him from my 1st good workout when I started training again?) hopped up on the apron and spouted some advice between F-bombs. The strategy was simple: abandon the jab, quit dancing so much, throw lead right hands, and take it to this kid.
And take it to him I did.
The 2nd round was an absolute slugfest, with me doing the slugging and the poor kid throwing an occasional straight right to push me off of him. Leaping in with a lead right, I would string 4,5,6,8,12, Lord knows how many power punches together before hopping back out of range. Somewhere along the way I caught a stiff right hand across my nose (kid hadn't hit me much at this point, but when he did, damn it was hard) and began bleeding out of it. But then again, I've had people fart in my general direction from a block away and my nose has started bleeding, so I wasn't worried.
After picking my opponent apart for 2 minutes, the bell sounded and I turned back towards my corner smiling (ear-to-ear, baby). It was as perfect of a round as anyone could ever ask for without knocking their opponent out.
The 2nd break went very similar to the 1st: lots of swearing, Irish accents, squirts of water, and a towel shoved up my nose to stop the bleeding.
The kid was slow to come out of his corner at the start of the 3rd round, but when he did, he threw a curveball that I never recovered from: he switched up and boxed southpaw.
And I HATE southpaws.
Between a little fatigue and a lot of hesitation/overanalyzing my opponent's newfound left-hand, I spent the 3rd round standing in front of the kid far too much and throwing far too few punches. A couple buddies in attendance would later swear that I still won the 3rd round ("you easily took the first 2 rounds, and you at least got a draw if not won the 3rd") but as I went back to my corner after the final bell - my nose an open spigot of blood - I was nothing short of pissed. A dominant performance squandered by a sub-par final round. After dropping a few F-bombs of my own, my cornerman stuck the blood towel in my face and laughed "wipe this off, you won that fight. You won that fight!"
And I did.
While I was far from perfect throughout the entire match, I truly could not have asked for a better performance in my first bout "back." I put on the fight of the night (ask the gym owner - who hugged me and told me "fight of the night!" - or the dozens of gym members and spectators who told me likewise) with a technical, well-rounded win. Perhaps most importantly, I also discovered a number of areas that I need to correct before I compete again, namely making sure I don't square up so much, I prepare to throw non-stop for 3 rounds (rather than box for 3 rounds, and there IS a difference) and make sure that I rig the draw so my opponent is NOT a friggen lefty.
I'm truly off and running now with my competitive boxing career. I was back in the gym the next day, and while work and Celtics/Red Sox games have impeded my immediate training schedule, as of this weekend I am back on track and already have a couple of prospective bouts lined up for the end of this month. But more on that later. Right now I'm going to go revisit my last bout again - warming at the memories of my mind and body working as one as I landed combinations and the crowd roared, basking in the mountains of post-fight praise, and most importantly, taking notes on what I need to do to elevate my game to where I know it can be.
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