Tag Archives: boxing trainers

Getting them to the gym early

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Getting them to the gym early

I live in a two-boxer family and if I count the young-one, we’re coming on three boxers.  As the trainers down at Gleason’s are happy to remind us, my daughter was practically born in the gym.  There are many stories told of how she was passed from one lap to another while my husband or I trained.  Her comfort today is telling every time she walks into the gym.  She’s got folks to say hello to,  her trainer, John “Superman” Douglas to fist-bump, and a general feeling of ease as she watches us workout or works out herself.

When it comes to kids in the gym, I always advise parents that there is no place finer to introduce a child not only to the intricacies of the sweet science, but to the rarified world of camaraderie, focus and importantly, people’s dreams.  A boxing gym provides children with a place where they can experience people working very, very hard to achieve complex goals that range from personal fitness to readying for professional bouts.

The boxing gym is also a place where children can learn great physical skills, confidence and a work ethic that will carry them across a lifetime — and this without ever really needing to fight in a bout.  The boxing work out alone with a skilled trainer or in a group class will provide kids with the chance to develop prowess in the boxing repertoire and for those parents who might object to their kids sparring, pad work and shadow boxing can simulate some of the movements of the ring.  Girls especially get a lot out of boxing training — not the least of which is learning how to physically defend themselves.

There’s also something else that happens in a boxing gym: a chance for people from all walks of life to interact and communicate.  In the over-scheduled world of contemporary child rearing, that sort of experience is invaluable as is the “drift” time that happens as you wait your turn.

For more information on children’s boxing programs, parents can contact their local PAL organizations. Many boxing gyms also provide opportunities for training children individually or in groups.  You can also contact Girlboxing and we’ll be happy to pass on what information we have.

Finding inspiration

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Finding inspiration

Shadow Boxers

The great woman’s boxer, Lucia Rijker is quite the warrior.  The following clips are from the film “Shadow Boxers” by Katya Bankowski.  I watched them this morning doing crunches.

 

 

Google video has a streaming version of the film here.

New beginnings

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New beginnings.

Mondays afford the possibility of new beginnings.  A bit like a new year, Mondays begin the week and hence offer the chance to take a stab at starting over.   This mini-New Year also offers the start of new resolutions such as getting back to the gym, beginning a diet, or waking up an hour earlier to start that novel that keeps beckoning from the keyboard.

The point is that we have that opportunity to take a stab at new things all the time; whether an adventure in cuisine, creative endeavors, physical prowess, or something as simple as drinking one less cup of coffee.

And sure, Thursday can come when cake is the overriding motivation of the day, but you do have Monday or any other day you choose as your start day to look forward to.    That’s the day when you have the opportunity to move yourself along to where ever it is you want to go as a fresh beginning, whether its shadow boxing in the dark as your morning sun salutation or greeting your gym mates at the end of the day having missed their company for a while.

Missing a day

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Missing a day.

When one commits to a daily something as a specific task, missing a day can be a big emotional ouch.

Back when I boxed everyday, whether at the gym or at home, missing a day felt like a betrayal.  I had gone ahead and signed some sort of blood pact with myself to train everyday and then blown it!

The next day always felt awkward.   I found myself discounting the days and weeks of effort and sweat as if I had to start all over again.

Of course, I didn’t have to.  Sure I lost the day, but it didn’t mean having to give up training or all the good that working out in the ring had done for me.  It just meant that I had to work a bit harder to get my groove back; a few extra sit-ups to make up for the ones I’d lost.  Perhaps throwing in an extra bit on the treadmill during the warm-up, or the three rounds on the slip rope I’d been meaning to work into my routine.

The point is not to beat yourself up.

Things happen.  Work, family, a rotten cold, or maybe a jammed feeling that leaves a blue cast over the day that you just can’t shake.  The next day will be there for you to do your daily something again — and really, it’ll be okay.

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The daily something

Day ahead of myself

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Day ahead of myself.

I’m getting days ahead of myself.  It comes of too much on my mind and not enough focus.  Maybe that’s why the pads a trainer uses in boxing are called “focus” pads.

I clearly need some focus or my family might actually follow through on their threats to set me adrift at sea.  ‘Not that I’ve become a Captain Bligh around here, but it’s pretty clear that the problem is me and not with the rest of my world ’cause they’ve been pretty perfect.


Safe space

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Safe space.

I came home from work last night to see my husband and my daughter sprawled on the living room floor doing math together.   My day had been exhausting and I was no less so after seeing them.   The lovely part of it was knowing how safe my daughter was as I excused myself and went into the bedroom to take a short nap.

Having missed out on a lot of that sort of intimacy in my own childhood, it got me to thinking that the boxing gym can offer that same sort of comfort.  My meaning is not necessarily tied into the idea of “Father” / “Daughter,” but “Trainer” and “Trainee.”

As a “student” of boxing one is seeking out guidance and learning from others. That learning encompasses all the usual pathways of acquiring knowledge; however, it occurs as a close physical experience and it is that closeness that can garner trust and comfort.   To sit in a boxing gym is to observe a myriad of small moments of loving intimacy. A sort of safe space for working through the actual problems of how to box; but more so the intangibles of relationship that dog many of us as we go about the everyday work of life.

No time

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No time …

for anything today except finishing a paper!  For anyone needing inspiration here’s some fight footage of Alicia “Slick” Ashley:

It just is

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It just is

My “dharma” teacher, a revered Theraveda Buddhist Nun back at Wat Suann Mokkh in Thailand was always fond of saying “it just is.”   The wisdom of most boxing trainers revolves around a similar refrain.  My current trainer, Lennox Blackmore is a master of such statements.     He has two flavors:  “it is what it is” and “wake-up.”

Thus, if one is training in a crowed ring – it is what it is.  Deal with it.  Get clocked sparring?  It is what it is, move on.  Get clocked again?  Wake-up!

As wisdom for the ages and frankly, as I “age,” I’m actually beginning to see where this all makes sense.  Is my kid, husband, family, cat driving me crazy?  Am I too hot, too cold, tired, hungry, over-worked, under-worked, grumpy, manic, obsessive, distracted, happy, sad, and on and on?  It just is.  Did I trip, forget where my glasses, keys, wallet, iphone are?  Wake-up.

It gets to be a world-wind after a while of “it is what it is” and “wake-up,” but somewhere in the midst of it I am beginning to actually hear the “be-here-now” at the center of the “it just is” and “wake-up” poles of being.

If I am here now, I will likely avoid the punch, or hit the speed-bag with perfect precision or never engage in the fight with my husband or daughter and actually remember where my glasses are.  I won’t be overly anything, but I will not trip on the sidewalk, get hit by a car crossing the street against the light or importantly, miss out on all of the tender moments with my family.   Somehow it’s hard to believe that I can personally go through life without the drama of  engaging riotously and waking-up, but having been “clocked” enough times by life’s travails, I’m beginning to see the wisdom of staying awake as a moment-to-moment way to be.

You can go home again!

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You can go home again!

Coming back to the gym after a long break is always a challenge.   Least ways, I usually find it that way.  On the one hand I sweat like crazy and find that my muscles remember what they’re supposed to do despite all the neglect.  And it does feel as if I’m coming back home.  Not that there is a brass band playing, but the “hey, how ya’ doing,” from gym-mates is nice.  The re-discovery of the contents of my locker is also fun especially since my boxer’s locker is filled with long-forgotten paraphernalia and equipment, the odd favorite pair of socks, and the reminder, yet again, that I’m running low on deodorant.

The hard part of coming back to the gym is how out of shape one can become in a short period never mind if it’s been weeks or months!  In my case, if I’ve been boxing steadily for a while, a hiatus feels like being in a fight with the Three Stooges, except that I’m Shep or Moe or Curly.  I’m the one with awful timing that feels as if I’m in the middle of an out-of-sync movie.

To save some “face,” there’s nothing like hitting the gym late on a Sunday afternoon.  By then, there are only a few folks around – and in my case, no trainer to say, “come-on girl,” when I begin outright panting during the second round on the pads.

For a first day back in a boxing gym, I’ve found the best thing to do is to attempt a short run to get loose followed by a tour of my hit-parade of favorite things to do.  My regime consists of a few rounds of shadow-boxing to warm up, followed by a round or two or three on the double-ended bag and a finish on the heavy bag for no more than an additional three rounds.  By the end, I don’t need an oxygen tank and I’ve gotten a decent work-out without pushing myself to a point of absolute misery.  More to the point, if I follow that up with one or two more short training sessions on my own, the sensation of working out in mud dissipates and I find I’m ready to get back in the ring with my trainer with at least some modicum of dignity!

Why I love the jab

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Why I love the jab

I love the jab.

If I throw the punch enough times I can actually find the sweet-spot.  Not unlike a perfectly hit baseball, the sweet-spot of a punch has similar a meaning: the place where the fist perfectly percusses with the object.  Some days it takes three rounds of shadow boxing, four rounds of work with my trainer and I don’t know how many on the double-ended bag before  I find it.  And other days, well, you get the idea.

When I think about the jab, I’m reminded that all things come down to the fundamentals.  For the jab that means stance, arm position, and the actual mechanics of how the jab is thrown.  The jab is also foundational to the sweet science itself.  Try to box without one and you’re really not boxing anymore.  Every trainer also has a story or two about a boxer who “fought twelve rounds with nothing but the jab and won.”    And it is a pretty cool punch to throw.  It establishes your pace, helps you find your range, and keeps your opponent at bay while you ready yourself to let loose with your hammer hand.

The jab also teaches an economy of movement.  A boxer’s body has to be aligned so that when the punch is thrown it’s not just the fist, but the momentum of the entire body that connects. The “boom” is the fist finding its target, but its fueled by the feet, legs, hips, chest and shoulder in one brilliant moment.  If you throw it and the body is misaligned, the punch doesn’t pack any power.  Sure it might look good, but it’s a waste of energy, or as Johnny used to say, “nothing but pitty-pat.”

And I guess that’s what I find I love most about the jab.  The possibility of its allowing me to find a moment when all things align.  My body for sure, but also my mind because in that moment, I’m not there, I’m in the punch; somewhere close to what the Buddhist’s call not-self.  Not to say that boxing is an aspect of Nirvana, but losing oneself in an instant of physical perfection is a nice way of tasting enlightenment.

 

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No pitty-pat

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No pitty-pat

My first boxing trainer had an “old school” sensibility that consisted of two things:  impatience for “pitty-pat” and a dislike for using boxing pads.  For the uninitiated, boxing pads are used by trainers to help their fighters practice fighting in a “mock” fight.  The trainer calls out punches and the fighter responds.  Once it gets going, the boxer throws punches wherever the pads are in the hopes that they’re thrown correctly, if not, it’s usually a swat and another “wake-up, girl,” moment.

For Johnny, however, pads were another form of pitty-pat.  He wanted his fighters to hit and hit hard either at a bag or at another person, but not at pads.  “What’s it giving you?” he’d extol.  “I’ll tell you what, nothing, that ain’t how people fight.”   He’d then shake his head and grabbing a long swaying heavy bag which he’d pummel with left hooks he’d say, “you gotta get in close like Joe Louis, and hit.”

I was new to boxing and figured that if Johnny wanted it that way, it was okay by me.  Where it got difficult was in actually throwing those hard punches.  Johnny would hold a giant heavy bag and have me throw nothing but lefts, or throw 6-, 8- or 10-punch combinations over and and over till I was so tired I’d want to drop – all the while cajoling me with his, “now I don’t want no pitty-pat, you hit hard.”

It got to be that I could actually throw 18-punch combinations complete with jabs, hooks, upper-cuts and body blows, my arms so tired I’d want to excise them – and none of them a “pitty-pat” throw.

Years later I moved on to a trainer who used pads, speed-bags, double-ended bags and whatever else he could think of in his arsenal.  He also spent a lot of time teaching me good mechanics and fighting techniques, but those earlier crazy training sessions still came into play.  I never could throw a pitty-pat punch and that desire to fully commit to each throw that had seemed so hard to the point of tears in my early days had given me something after all, the understanding that in boxing it really is about the commitment.  There’s nothing half-baked about what you can do in the ring – or should do, ’cause otherwise it’s “you” fighting “you,” as you pick yourself up off the canvas.