Wandering Aimlessly Down the Comeback Trail

The past few weeks have been an aimless, meandering journey that may or may not be getting me where I need to be. I’m definitely cranking up the intensity and regularity of workouts (especially "doubling up" with an a.m. run plus a p.m. gym workout) but feel like something’s missing. This “something” is probably just momentum. I can't help but feel like I'm laboring through workouts a little more than when I was peaked right before I had my surgery. Maybe it's just needing to build confidence? Regain some in-ring comfort? Or, maybe I just need to whip up a larger batch of my special sauce: swagger.

I definitely could use a touch more of all these. But regardless of what "it" actually is, hopefully I’m not going to be stuck spinning tires until this X factor changes - because when it does, I’m ready to get some traction and peel out in a dust cloud of kick-ass.

My biggest problem being patient with this “work hard and it will click” approach is that it requires a bit of faith that “the process” is working. I have no problem trucking along, but it’s unsettling to go through the motions, make progress in baby steps, and just continue assuming that one morning I’ll glove up and things will be the way they were pre-op - with my feet having that rhythmic bounce, my jab that stinging crispness, that right landing with that clobbering thump that made eyes spin.

But alas, onwards I trudge, trusting that persistence (and about 100 rounds of sparring) will be the glue that makes my body, mind and routine harmoniously “click.”

As I continue to try to hit my proverbial groove, it’s becoming clear that I’m going to have a pretty tangible, conventional set of challenges to overcome. And, because I’m self-conscious about my tone on here, I want to clarify that these are challenges, not complaints. Challenges are encountered but ultimately overcome…but they’re hindrances nonetheless, and until they’re addressed, patience is tried and progress can’t be made.

• Logistics - My old office was a 10-minute walk from my boxing gym, but now my work-to-gym commute is about 45 minutes. This adds strain schlepping my gear around in crappy weather, makes it more likely I'll just go home first and then run/lift/crosstrain rather than embark on another round-trip commute, and even sometimes interferes with my sleep cycle due to bumping my whole night back an hour or two from running around the greater Boston area. Hey, lost time adds up over the months...
• Summer - Summer is my busy season. From a baseball league I play in once/week to traveling to remembering the "play" aspect of a work/train/play balance, there seems to always be a scheduling conflict (or a vice) altering plans.
• Tearing up my face again - I snickered typing this, but hey, I'm a banger. I outwork, outhustle and outgun my opponents. Having a mental block take me out of my element - intentional or not - would be as devastating to my end-result as not being 100% in-shape.
• Weight - Having fought at 140, I never had problems making 152 for a fight last year, which is where I had my long streak of success. In fact, I'd say the added strength and comfort with my weight was a huge reason for my success. But now? Well if I had a functioning scale that didn't seem to be stuck on 165, I'd actually know how much I weigh... but I'd still probably have anxiety that I'll have a lot of weight to cut in the sauna the week of my next bout - especially since a lot of this new mass is due to me bulking up while I wasn't boxing, rather than just letting myself go. Some definite changes to my weightlifting routines (and maybe, just maybe, my drinking habits) are in order...

And right there, maybe I got to the root of it – whether it’s a lack of urgency or just a consistent flow in my week-to-week training, I seem to be spiraling in a "trap of the week" cycle and am improvising a comeback rather than just executing.

In the end, that will be the difference between success or falling short when the boxing “busy season” starts in September – whether I plow through these challenges and train in a crisp, straight line to the top, or meander through this briar patch of obstacles and let them slow me down.

At the end of the day though, my feet are moving and slowly but surely I'm progressing forward. It’s going to take a lot more than this to keep me from my titles.

Reboot

Training camp officially has a pulse - and a strong one at that, thanks to some clever time management and the rediscovery of my stubborn, "train now because your opponent's still sleeping" approach.

Back in the flow, I can tell there are (again) some big things ahead for me. Some of you all might not have believed me when I said the same thing this time last year, but, well, look what happened. I've got the TV and newspaper clips to prove what I can do when I just do it, and I have every intention of building on those successes. If anything, it'll be "easier" this time around, if not for experience than for the ability to breathe again at full capacity.

With the intensity cranked up again, I've been reminded that boxing's not just something I do - it's what I do. It's my drive and passion, my love and my greatness. It's the summation of my talents - from God-given tools like strength and stamina to inherited traits (thanks Pops!) like my work ethic and the mental toughness to never be unprepared, to never lose no matter how deep I have to dig.

You can always dig deeper. Always, always always. The moment you lose that mentality is the exact time you become mortal in the ring again.

And while this might sound altruistic, frankly it's just an inexplicable drive I can't push aside for the sake of living "the norm." I'm starting to think it's not a coincidence that boxing fits so seamlessly into the rest of my life. I've still been working tirelessly at work, traveling around NY and New England, catching Red Sox and Celtics games...just living my life. And now that I'm back in the ring, I've been living it more completely.

Life is good and it is full and it is great.

Everything's been rebooted. And while there are still a few issues to hammer out (weight, sparring, strategy among others that I'll detail in my next post) it's safe to say that the comeback's on.

But on second thought, don't call it a comeback. Boxing never left me.

Don't Call it a Comeback

The wait is over. And while saying "the comeback's officially on" might seem tired and obvious, on the same note, simply calling it a "relief" or "good to be back" wouldn't do it justice.

This isn't just me resuming training and stepping back into the ring again. This is re-plugging and re-booting a missing aspect of my life. I've missed boxing. Mourned it during the grind the past few months. And while I'm loving my new job (of which the start date coincided with my surgery & start to the boxing hiatus) there still has been something missing from my day-to-day stride. Yes, I'm happy and pain-free and can breathe again. Hell, I can smell again - it's been nothing short of eye-opening realizing how bashed up my face was before they cleaned it out. All has been well...but it hasn't been right.

An X factor has been missing. A call hasn't been answered. My drive feels like it's been wandering and wasted. That certain urgency and "purpose" just hasn't been there.

But for more than a week now, I've dipped my toe back into the water and am ready to go barreling feet-first back into the ring. Note: feet-first, not face-first. That's what landed me under the knife and looking like this:



Yeesh, look at that swollen clown nose. But to think just how poorly I was breathing before (and prone to infections and bleeding and all-around nastiness) my surgery, let alone overcoming it in the ring with an angry opponent and suffocating mouthpiece.

But alas, I'm mo' better; I'm 100% and hungry. But while I've stayed in more than great shape (as always) I've got a long way to go before I'll be ready to compete at a high level. We all know that a boxer can't be judged by his body type or appearance, and that there's no amount of weights, road work and cross-training that can replace "peak boxing shape." You need speed, stamina, timing, that feel and comfort. (For me, that swagger.) I've had layoffs from the sport before, but never one where I need to so completely rebuild myself to get back to the same level. (Lest we forget that I had my surgery just days after a televised bout, a fight for a championship belt and a thrashing of the regional Golden Gloves finalist.) This will not only be a challenge, but an opportunity. And it'll be fun.

I can't wait to get this motor humming again.

So buckle up, folks.

Sneak Preview

Big news coming later this week, folks. Dusting off the blog and...well, you'll see later this week. ; )





Don't blink, ya might miss it...

How the Other Side Lives

This whole hiatus thing is...strange. It's new. And strangely refreshing. But also kind of boring. And just not...right.

The past few weeks I've continued to do a whole lot of nothing as far as the ring is concerned. But in a strange, "normal" sort of way (normal meaning similar to how you odd, non-boxing types who don't like having your faces rearranged approach things - psh, weirdos) I've also been doing a whole lot.

With the additional, extensive work on my face and airways, I'm still not cleared to do anything full-contact. For various reasons, I've taken this one step further and stayed away from the boxing gym altogether, sticking exclusively to weights, plyos and road work. Some of these various reasons include:

- A vacation to the Virgin Islands

- A new job

- Being months away from competing again. With no goal in sight, I wouldn't lose motivation so much as be more prone to impatience and frustration for my situation.

- Missing the Golden Gloves

- Watching the shmuck I pounded on in my 12/11/09 fight televised on NESN make it all the way to the Golden Gloves regional finals. While in a way this is something to hang my hat on (hey, the proof is on the tape) it's also something I'm shaking my head at since I missed a prestigious tourney I clearly could've made some noise in.

- The obvious point that 9 years of pugilism messed my face up. And while even the best sometimes have to get cleaned up before climbing back to the top (hey, Vanderlai Silva just had surgery on his nose to fix his breathing too) recovery is a nuisance and I can't help but fear that it'll subconsciously affect my fight style - sort of like a pitcher who gets beaned by a line-drive comebacker and "is never the same again" even though his health and form all appear to be back in full, top-notch shape.

Yes, I can buy more protective headgear and and tweak my sparring formats and schedule and just trust (know) that I won't be boxing 9 more years and accumulate as much damage...but gah, I'm not a defensive wunderkid like Pernell Whitaker - I'm aggressive and offensive-minded and am in my own head and driving myself crazy with restlessness. And it's silly, but it's enough to keep me at this relaxed pace and in a sort of holding pattern before I break out of my recovery.

After running the Boston Marathon in 2005, a friend told me "don't think about your next marathon until you forget about your last." I've never had to do the same with boxing, but am on the tail-end of exactly this right now.

And to make sure it's clear: I'm not out indefinitely. I never have and never will be scared of eating a little leather - it's the nature of the beast. But right now I'm just not in any rush and in a nice groove everywhere but the ring - as much as it pains me to say. It's kind of nice focusing on the new job and beach muscles and multiple "rest days" with nothing resembling physical activity and taking a vacation to the Virgin Islands and disregarding what the scale says and just chilling... just seeing how the other 99.99% of 24 year-old professionals live. It's invigorating and it's bound to pay off in the long-term boxing-wise.

Some of y'all always have great insights - I'd be interested to hear what do's/don'ts you've run into if you've ever had an injury or prolonged break from your "passion."

Sometimes before you climb back up the mountain, it's nice to enjoy the scenery for awhile before breaking a sweat. And right now, the view's fine.

Along the Road to Recovery

First off: I'd like to thank you all for reading this blog and your well-wishes before my surgery. I do a miserable job responding to your comments and it looks like there are a lot more of y'all who started reading this right as I go from a "peak to a valley," but I truly appreciate your support and readership.

I feel like I could begin and end this post simply by writing "surgery sucks," but, well that obviously doesn't paint much of a picture. Nor does it convey how much I'm missing the ring.

Then again, a one-sentence summary probably would read more along the lines of "it's not the surgery that sucks - it's the 6-week recovery after that sucks."

Despite my pre-anesthesia jitters, surgery went well. And by well, of course, I mean that I didn't die, didn't have to stay overnight, and was only mildly miserable when I got wheeled out of the hospital that afternoon.

By the time I went to bed, I had graduated from jello and pudding to cheese and painkillers. The next morning, I had a doctor's appointment to remove the packing and clean my stitches - at which time I also was informed that my nose "was awful...absolutely horrible once we got in there" and that the damage was far more extensive than they had originally diagnosed. My doctor informed me that he had to do two additional procedures that involved grafting cartilage to the front and bridge of my nose to keep it from collapsing in the future, whether I got popped again or not. Essentially, there was so much wreckage in there that on top of fixing my deviated septum, the doctor felt it was necessary to re-build my nose from the inside out. This obviously made the procedure far more extensive and invasive than originally planned, but was done in order to give me the proper care as the doctor saw fit, and I'm glad he decided to do it while I was already opened up.

As he explained how I'd need to care for all the extra, unexpected stitching, he removed my packing. I am by no means squeamish, but this was far and away the most horrifyingly disgusting, gruesome thing I've ever experienced. I wouldn't doubt that there are still imprints on the armrest from my death grip as he pulled out all the...bleh. Just, bleh. The things that came out of my nose...

Once you get inside it, the human body is gross...

My surgical drainage lasted a few days, but the pain subsided quickly. For the next few days, I was more uncomfortable and inconvenienced rather than swollen or in pain, which was encouraging. By the end of the week I still had significant internal swelling, but I already felt like I was breathing easier than I had been before the procedure.

My 2-week check-up and cleaning went well. My stitches have already begun to dissolve on their own, my wounds are clean and healing nicely, and I've been green-lighted to resume workouts and gentle nose blowing. (NEVER take it for granted that you can blow your nose - especially in the gnarly New England winters when it runs every time you step outside.)

I've eased my way back into "full," strenuous workouts and am feeling good. I think I played my cards perfectly wearing myself out pre-surgery and making sure I was "due" for a few days rest anyway. If you squint at the half-full glass, I kind of only really missed one week of training. It was worth it though - through all the discomfort, I wanted first and foremost to do this right and be done with it, and thus far everything's healing beautifully.

And, more importantly, I can breathe again. Easily and fully breathe. Which is a remarkable feeling once you've gone so long and forgotten what it's like to fill your lungs with air and scents and all sorts of nasal goodness.

Since my surgery, I have not been to my boxing gym, nor have I even gloved up to work the heavy bag at my "normal" gym. This has been done intentionally. Not only do I miss the ring terribly, but, well, I'm just not ready to go back. I don't have headgear with a face guard for regular sparring, I'm out of boxing shape, I don't have a "plan" in place to get back to competing and, frankly, I want to enjoy a few weeks off where I'm fully healthy before I dive back in.

If you're going to go, go all out. I'm not a defensive fighter, so I want to make sure I'm comfortable and at peace with my "new face" before squaring off again. I won't be effective if all I'm thinking about is how to not have my nose get grazed by a glove. Similarly, I'm not a wannabe competitor, so I don't want to rush back and aimlessly plod through half-ass workouts. Like my recovery, when I get back to boxing I want to get back at it "right."

And right now I'm still technically recovering. Just biding my time along the long road to recovery...

Pre-Surgery Musings

Before I begin with this short little post, I want to remind you all to (if you haven't already) check out my previous entry. It was a more-than-appropriate "final" event before my upcoming competitive hiatus - a sort of peak before I plateau for a bit.

In a few hours, I'll check-in to have surgery to have a deviated septum and some mangled bones and cartilage in my nose fixed. As I've noted here before, I've been virtually unable to breathe through my nose for a few months. (And before that, I was getting sinus infections way too often, and before that my nose would bleed when someone blew in my general direction from down the block - point being, who knows how long this has been getting more and more messed up.) With a slight lull in the upcoming bout schedule, no airplane flights scheduled for over a month and the holidays behind me, I figured now was as good of a time as any to get it fixed.

Recovery time seems to vary. I'm supposed to go 2 weeks (I'm going to use business weeks) without "working out," including not lifting anything over 25 lbs. or bending over at the waist. I'm supposed to stay out of the cold, dry air as much as possible too.

I foresee two "problems." First, no one is saying "absolutely do nothing physical." They're saying "you'll risk a nosebleed" or "well, if you're going to run, I'd recommend you do it inside." I'm all about doing this the right way and healing without any complications, but at the same time, well, I'm a workout-aholic. I think everything will be more clear based on how I'm feeling early next week - then I'll decide whether I want to start small on the exercise bike or with 5 lb. dumbbells or something to keep my heart rate and blood pressure low (and most importantly, my aching nose happy.) But no matter what, I need to make sure I absolutely don't do too much too soon and have any setbacks.

The other problem is that this is resulting in an indefinite absence from the competitive side of boxing. I'm by no means hanging up my gloves - it's only 2 weeks before I'll be starting to work back up to full speed again. The problem is that it will likely be, well, who knows how long before I feel comfortable enough to put the headgear on and step back into the ring. Even though I'm going to order one of those models of headgear that have the bar across your nose/mouth that the pros use when sparring in training camp, I don't ever want to have to battle a mental block fearing that my nose could again gradually be getting messed up over time. Besides, you can't do anything extra to truly protect your face in a sanctioned bout.

The bottom line: I am not finished boxing - not even this month. But I do not want to (and God willing will not have to) have surgery again.

I had considered drafting some prose here that outlined all the things I'll miss about the ring. But then I realized that not only is that a bit melodramatic and even cliche...but unnecessary. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be back, and perhaps much sooner rather than later.

The road to recovery starts tomorrow. And in the context of all the other challenges I've had to overcome during my amateur boxing career, this road doesn't seem so bad.

Keep swingin'. Talk to y'all in a few days.