Alarm clocks and the bell
I’ve been hit by the iPhone alarm clock bug. Yep, my trusty morning wake-up call pooped-out of me this morning — and so my morning is already 45 minutes late.
As someone who loves boxing, I am otherwise bound by life in three-minute intervals: the boxing clock. The typical timer has three flavors. Green, yellow and red. Green is lit-up for two and a half minutes before it dings and turns yellow for a further thirty-seconds. The next bell is usually a fairly loud racket that signifies the turn to red and a sixty-second rest period.
At the gym yesterday, I used the “yellow” period to quicken up my pace as I trained. My training consisted of nine rounds on the double-ended bag and a further three rounds on the speed bag before starting the abs torture. This is not a typical training session, but that’s the beauty of a Sunday, it gives me a chance to challenge myself on different aspects of boxing.
Yesterday was all about lefts and upper-cuts as three-minute exercises. First lefts, then left-left-right combinations, followed by left-left upper cut combinations and finally, right-left, right-left, right-left uppercuts finishing with the left jab off the left uppercut.
When I train throwing nothing but lefts for some part of the boxing clock or the entire three minutes, I hear trainers in my head talking about how such and such a fighter won a 12-round fight with nothing but lefts. Hyperbole aside (although I swear someone did do that), challenging oneself to the equivalent of nothing but lefts as a timed exercise has a lot of benefits. I used to do it as a writing exercise, setting an egg-timer for five minutes and writing down whatever entered my head without letting the pen off the page.
Yesterday’s workout was a variation on that. Working on speed, agility and most importantly stamina. By my last three speed-bag rounds I was pretty much “done,” however, I did try to use the last thirty seconds of each round to pound away without stopping on my alternating left hand and right hand 8-count, 4-count, 2-count, 1-1-1-1, speed-bag rhythm. I was mostly successful and did feel that I earned the latte treat from Starbucks afterwards.
I’ll never get back the 45 minutes I lost this morning — that’s 15 rounds of boxing or nine timed writing sessions. Oh well. There’s always tomorrow.