Tag Archives: musings

Tied up in knots…

Leave a reply

Tied up in knots…

It’s one of those rainy days when the chores have felt as a never-ending stew of this and that — and every time I looked up for a bit of sunshine, the weather conspired with the list to keep me bound to it, no matter how miserable it felt.  Least ways, around here with laundry done, paper garbage bound and disposed of, second round of dish washing underway and most of the homework completed — the tasks still seem unrelenting.  There’s my daughter’s book report with a page to go — and hence her misery and for me, flash cards for her Social Studies test, the bathroom, third round on the kitchen and the reading I never got to.

Oh well.  In my estimation that means milk and cookies time — and the chance to break frame before returning to the “have-to-get-this-stuff-done” pile.  Oh … and the yoga I never got to this morning, but enough of the poor-me … suffice to say, if that kind of mood hits the only thing to do is to listen to a little Patsy Cline and succumb before washing my face and beginning again!

Boxing connections

Leave a reply

Boxing connections

While focusing on my prana breathing this morning the Yogic term for unifying the body through the energy of the breath, I got to thinking about how boxing seems to energize people in the same way. And yes, I was off in a mind movie about boxing, but figure that the “connection” on “connections” was all within the spirit of the breath!

So what do I mean — mostly that the community is small and practitioners from living room shadow boxers on through elite athletes, share a love for the sport, a passion for the practice and derive inner satisfaction from all of the hard work.  Not to say that every boxer would articulate it that way, but the community, especially among women boxers from 8-80 seems to derive a lot of strength from knowing that there are other women out there boxing their hearts out.

Case in point:  I do not know Christy Martin at all, but reading last night that a rib injury in the gym might sideline her from her March 12th PPV fight on Showtime really bummed me out.  (See Boxing Scene.com story here.)  We’ll know more today, and yes it will be news, but my relationship to it feels personal.  As if a close friend is at risk for a huge disappointment.  And I’m not talking as a fan per se, but as person that understands what it takes to step out in the ring and thus I feel a connection to what she’s been trying to achieve.

This blog is teaching me as well.  It’s connecting me to folks I’ve never met or spoken to, and yet through language and an evolving understanding of shared experiences, I feel it’s made me some friends, and “virtual” or not, whether I ever meet them face-to-face or not, working hard in the gym has a language all its own that you can share across huge divides.  Now I’m not going to get all sappy here, but the point is, the work has a language all its own that only needs the step of the doing to be a part of.  And no, I cannot share what it feels like to have the jitters before a championship match, but I can relate it to the experience of sparring for the first time, or putting gloves on for the first time and realizing that the itch on my nose would go unscratched unless I asked for some help.

The key perhaps is just that.  Boxing is not a solo experience.  In the end the connections are essential. Without them there’s no tango, no intricate dance whether between two fighters in the ring, boxer and trainer, or friends goofing around in the locker room.  So even if you are shadow boxing alone in your room, you’re still dancing with your shadow and that counts for something too!

 

 

It’s raining dogs and cats

3 Replies

It’s raining dogs and cats

Sometimes when you are working really hard at something, say writing a conference paper, training for your next fight or hitting your 47th non-stop morning at twisting your body in a pose, the goal still seems a million miles away from getting you anywhere.  More to the point, and not exactly a marathoner’s wall, your world will feel upside down and a bit backwards, because no matter the effort that sense of achievement feels illusive.

I think of it having run into a friend at Gleason’s on Saturday who is in the midst of training for a fight.  She looked strong, fit, and truly ready — and yet she also had that look that said, “wow, this is hard.” And is if her verbal constructions had hit into reverse, her far away gaze revealed the doubts that all of us feel when we are on the cusp of something.  I’d have given her a hug if I could, but it wasn’t one of those moments. Rather what she needed was a pause to acknowledge her efforts and struggle; something akin to a moment of breath, where she could intake slowly allowing for the catch in the throat before forcing it all out to begin anew.

And that is how it is sometimes. We work with tremendous effort on our goals, but feel caught in a backwards swirl of mind movies that have us see our world upside down before we can shake the tree enough to right ourselves again.

Call it a raining dogs and cats moment and then move on — because when you are working that hard, you really, really know it, and should trust that you’re doing what you need to do to achieve your that goal.

Your moment, your time.

Leave a reply

Your moment, your time.

This is as good an early morning as any to admit that getting up before dawn to breathe deeply as I contort myself into poses my body has no way of holding is just plain silly.  Okay, well maybe not silly, but given that my eyes are at half mast and I’m drifting as I write there is the question as to whether I am hitting diminishing returns here.  Yes, I got the junk out of my bones as I stretched and released — with the added benefit of giving the cat a place to scratch as I attempted the right hand on my outstretched left foot pose (that’s the donuty looking one — great on the tape, ridiculous on me!).

The gripes aside — it being Wednesday after all when these sorts of doubts hit my consciousness — I got to thinking that it is still my little bit of quiet including all this baby-bitching. Yep, let’s face it, sometimes we need some time to complain. We need that arrrghhh growl. That “damn-it nobody changed the toilet paper” grumble. Or my favorite, the loud as I can be empty out the kitchen sink plate slamming session where the object is to make as much noise as possible with nary a scratch to any of the pots, pans, dishes or cutlery. Where I draw the line is with the mucked up sponge which in my world just gets tossed out with a few under the breath curses to the moron who left it there to soak in the overnight potpourri of bacteria languishing in their special stew.

The point is the moments that are yours don’t always have to be pretty. Let’s face it, why else would you want to hit things?  Punching a heavy bag does have its attractions after all. As does beating down a huge mound of clay, digging in the dirt to plant bulbs or running till your heart feels as if it is going to burst. And that’s okay. Release is not always a slowly modulated intake and outtake of breath kind of thing. Sometimes its messy and full of rage, and sometimes its plain old complaint city when for the 116th time in a week you plead, cajole and beg one of your loved ones to pahleasssseee open the hamper lid before stacking their dirty laundry.

Girls to women, keeping it real

4 Replies

Girls to women, keeping it real

Cassy Herkelman, Iowa High School wrestler

Joel Northrup, a talented young high school male wrestler forfeited his match in Iowa’s state championship tournament rather than face his female opponent, Cassy Herkelman, one of two young women who met the qualification criteria to participate in the tournament, the first young women to do so in the state’s history.  In a written statement quoted in an article from Bloomberg.com, Northrup noted that “as a matter of conscience and my faith, I do not believe it is appropriate for a boy to engage a girl in this manner,” further stating, “It is unfortunate that I have been placed in a situation not seen in most other high school sports in Iowa.”   A more in depth account in the Des Moines Register notes that Northrup who fights for Linn-Mar High School had declined to fight Herkelman in a match on January 13, 2011, however, given that it was not a state tournament, the team put in a substitute to fight Herkelman.  Articles can be found here and here.

All right, so much for the facts, that include statements from the Herkelman’s father  saying that it “takes a lot of guts,” to follow religious convictions.  From where I sit, admittedly comfortably ensconced in my Brooklyn, NY living room — the entire episode is an outrage.

What, the first young woman to qualify in a state championship tournament gets the win ’cause her opponent thinks “combat” with a girl is inappropriate!  Yes, Cassy, you get the win, the first win for a “girl,” but  there’s also the tiny asterisk forever associated with that honor — won by forfeit.

Where are we living???  What year is this???  I’m sorry but as mother and the mother of A GIRL, I find this beyond the pale.  Forfeit??? I don’t care how talented Joel Northrup is or the depth of his convictions, the sport of high school wrestling in the state of Iowa is open to qualified boys AND girls and if that is too much for him, he SHOULDN’T PARTICIPATE at all.  That his coaches and his school continue to enable this behavior because he’s got some talent in the ring is no less outrageous.    What’s the message to the young women in that school and in the community at large — oh, it’s okay to dis’ girls in the name of some “holier than thou” convictions about a women’s place in the world?

Any if you read the news and the blogs on this story (just google the story under “google news”) the contortions to be all PC are funny if it weren’t really, really sad.  And let me repeat this is sad, a very sad statement on where we are when a young woman who has trained her heart out and fought hard to earn her place at the state level has to stand alone in the ring to the cheers and jeers of a crowd because her opponent can’t face her.  Give me a break.

I didn’t see it coming…

4 Replies

I didn’t see it coming…

Sometimes one can say “I didn’t see it coming” and eat canvas literally or figuratively.  Whether it’s a quick right to the temple or bad news in an email the effect is pretty much the same — shock, awe and a stunned sensation before jumping up for the mandatory eight-count in the hopes of mitigating any further problems.

The thing is somewhere between the canvas and the wait that seems forever before you resume your fight, the mind is racing all over the place with the calculus of just how you got to canvas in the first place.  As if reliving all the moves in a chess game and all the possible outcomes if only move b replaced move a, the momentary, “I got caught” feeling takes one down a path of roads not taken.  That space also brings the sickening shoulda’, coulda’, woulda’ sensations of lost opportunities as one licks back the blood, shakes it all off and readies for what happens next.

When it’s a life moment:  a sick parent or sibling or spouse, the death of someone close, those sensations are not very different.  We reel with stars and that winced brain feeling, choke back the giant ow, and somewhere in the midst of getting back to ourselves walk down the how-come-I-didn’t-see-this-coming path.  And it’s the I-should-have-known feeling that really lays us out because the longer we hold onto those feelings, the longer it takes to get back to our best game.  Those are the moments when we take to our beds and hiding in a tight ball under the covers absorb the waves of emotions that inevitably come with difficult news — or news we just don’t want to absorb.  At some point, however, the covers have to come off ’cause as nice and warm and cozy as the bed might seem, it’s not the messiness of a well-lived life.    Sometimes all it takes is a good night’s sleep before perspective kicks in and one finds in the promise of a new day, opportunities to move on with a feeling of joy for all the things you can see.  Let’s face it, no matter how hard we try, some things just get away from us and while we can dwell in the unfairness of our inability to “see” — as my Theravada Buddhist Dharma teacher used to say, “it’s just that.”

Sometimes you win …

4 Replies

Sometimes you win …

BroBrooklyn Bridge at Night, 1948 Gelatin Silver, by Andreas Feininger

Brooklyn Bridge at Night, 1948 Gelatin Silver, by Andreas Feininger

 

 

I managed to crawl out of bed at my usual ridiculous weekday hour in the morning today.  My head is still spinning a bit from being tired and I’ve been fighting off waves of didn’t-get-enough-sleep headaches — not to complain, which I’m not, but to state that the inconveniences of those feelings are out-weighed by the suppleness my limbs feel after my third downward dog pose and all the other stretches these creaky bones held this morning.

While I may or may not get to four rounds of shadow boxing when I finish this piece, the hiss of the steam, wanderings of the kitty and the sounds of the house as it reverberates with the slow morning echoes from the street below gives me something else.  A kind of serenity as I greet the day before the stresses and hustle and bustle of all the have-to’s begin to settle on it.

When one has a busy life with a tons of constituent parts that demand time, attention and thought, it’s so very nice to have the gift of a few minutes that aren’t in competition.  Rather, they’re just for oneself.  A little piece of the world one can own — if not quite the room Virginia Wolfe envisioned where one could state, “I am,” this place has more to do with a gift of quiet.  And sure, predawn self-ministrations get “old” by Thursday morning when the accumulated hours of missed sleep are wearying, however, the idea of finding a part of the day for quiet doesn’t.  I’ve been keeping to this schedule for six weeks now and have to say that occasional grumpiness aside these moments of quiet have truly given me something I didn’t expect:  a place of peace that’s a little of my own.

 

The only thing you really have is your effort!

5 Replies

The only thing you really have is your effort!

I wish that were original, but it’s not.  My brother-in-law wrote it on his Facebook page last night.  Given that he is a working musician, I give him his due as it is never easy.

Similar to professional musicians, professional athletes, talented amateurs and even the rest of us mere mortals on the ground —  can usually only be sure of something based on the effort we’ve put in to achieve it.  For this 50-something body that means I am truly *earning* the increasing tautness of my upper body from all those pre-dawn downward facing dog poses.

Yep, the effort does pay dividends — although I will admit to mornings where the seemingly endless long haul feels a bit discouraging.

And sometimes — the plateau is just that.  The top of where you are going to go — say my ability to do a hand stand!  To use the vernacular – that ain’t never gonna happen – but, it doesn’t mean I don’t stop the effort to get there.

Okay, I know I’m being Pollyanna-ish again, but this notion that what we have is our effort resonated with me.  Perhaps it’s because when the effort is honest and truly your best the outcome is not the issue.  In other words, it’s the doing that matters, and while it is great to have a goal — and in fact often the most motivating part of getting yourself to the piano, the potter’s wheel or the gym in the first place, after a while the goal tends to slip away in favor of the doing.  We often find that the mere fact of following the path we’ve put in place whether its reps on a machine, rounds on the double-ended bag, or practicing the first four measures of a song for the 15th time, means finding the chance to discover beauty and serenity in that effort.  Well, okay, the beauty part might seem a little bit funny in a funky boxing gym — but the point is to not forget the journey, ’cause it might just be what you are seeking to achieve in the first place.

We are all one #Egypt

Leave a reply

We are all one #Egypt

The Girlboxing blog is a place to engage in a dialogue about personal growth, courage and the extent to which we can use our physical prowess to affect change in our lives.  Given the momentous and historical events unfolding half a world away, it is also our place to bear witness.

In my opinion, the very fact of this blog site and the hundreds of millions of others on the web means that we are all creating a place where information and communications are truly becoming democratized — along with the ready availability of such things as mobile phones, texting and so on.

At this very moment, at Tahrir Square in Cairo, the nexus point of the Egyptian uprising against Hosni Mubarak’s regime, Egyptian F-15 fighter jets are circling the square in ever-lower circles.  During each round, the tens of thousands of people in the square have raised their hands towards the sky and erupted in a roar of “get out,” “get out,” “this is terrorism.”  The images and accompanying audio are being sent and reported via the Internet – and rather than be intimidated, many of the protesters in the Square are refusing to leave in part heartened by the fact that they know that their message is being seen and heard.  As well, others are walking to join the protesters.  We are thus privy to the unfolding of these events in real-time — not only “living” history, but experiencing a democratized form of history.  One not told from the point of view of leaders shaping the “perspectives” of their people, but from the people themselves as they live it.

I am reminded of civil rights protesters singing, “We shall not be moved,” as they faced down water canons and a phalanx of police — and of watching snippets of these events on the evening news, all of which revolutionized how individuals experienced America’s civil unrest paving the way for the communications opportunities we share and take advantage of day in and day out today.  At any rate, it is something to think about.

For real time information on what is happening: Google is here.  Live images here.  BBC here.

The world keeps on spinning

4 Replies

The world keeps on spinning

As pressed for time as my life is it’s nice to take some moments to do nothing but drift.  By drift I do not necessarily mean gorking-out in front of the TV or getting memorized by online catalog sales.  No, drift time are those moments when the imagination can soar — such as going for a walk where you let your “feet do the walking” instead of taking yourself on a straight line from A to B.

It’s those opportunities for shaking up your tree that lets you take-in things you might not ordinarily see.  Say walking along and only observing the second floors of buildings.  There are some wonderous things to see!  Oddly carved gargoyles, balconies to no where, hand painted signs, and an assortment of drapes and window dressings that ranges from austere Modernism to Rococo to the merely ordinary.

So too with exercising.  You can have solid morning calisthenics, classes you take, routes for your daily run, sacrosanct Yoga DVD’s, and for boxers the set-list of rounds for each type of boxing training plus the time you spend with your trainer.  What’s nice is to spin yourself around by trying something a little bit different.  This sort of drift time let’s your body find its way to where you want to be.  That can mean an entirely new route for your run, yoga poses you never thought you could achieve, or in the boxing gym, a rhythm to your heavy bag or speed-bag work you didn’t know you had.

I guess the point is that we all need to step out of the ordinary so that we can find new ways of doing things.  Whether its writing a story backwards, taking a stab at creating an oddly shaped pot on the potter’s wheel or spinning a globe with your kids and inventing stories about what life would be like if you all lived in those places.  Believe me, nothing earth shattering will happen if you let things unfold without having structured it.  What you might find is a feeling of relaxation and calm that otherwise alludes you as your go about your overly busy day — at least that’s what I’ve found when I remember to give myself the time.

Remembering the Prize Fighter

Leave a reply

Remembering the Prize Fighter.

The Sweet Science.com is carrying a story about the Bob Arum’s move from HBO to Showtime-CBS  — and the potential of putting “terrestrial television” aka plain-vanilla broadcast TV back into the mix.   The main thrust of Bob Arum and Top Rank’s deal is giving him “ad spots and live coverage during CBS programming [that] will run either the first or last episode of a four-part promotional countdown to the fight show on CBS in prime time (the others will run on SHOWTIME). In addition, Top Rank will be allowed to sell ad spots that help cover the production costs of that show.” [Link to the full article here.]

This is pretty heady stuff and puts in my such glory days of boxing as the kind of main event fights that played on broadcast television from the 1950’s on through the great warrior battles of Muhammad Ali well into the 1970’s.

Howard Cosell and Mohammed Ali

The net effect of Arum’s move to Showtime-CBS will certainly bring more viewers for his upcoming Cotto-Mayorga fight, but more importantly will give him time to promote Manny Pacquiao’s May 7th fight:  a cross back into the realm of broadcast television thereby burnishing the place of the prize fighter in American lore.

Imagine this — the deal includes live promotion on CBS Morning Show and will also feature Christy Martin on CBS Talk Shows.  As well, in the run up to the Pacquiao fight, a feature spot will run on 60 Minutes one week prior to the fight.

As I’ve stated in an earlier column on the popularity of The Fighter and the splash that the new series Lights On is having on FX, boxing has found new life as people begin to view boxing as a way of battling through their own issues large and small.  For the fighter, it may still be a way out of “Palookaville,” but for the rest of us it’s a way out of powerlessness in a world that is moving way to fast for its own good.  I don’t know enough about the promoting game to be a fan one way or another of Bob Arum, but what I can say, is that his move to the wider audience of broadcast television shows that he is in touch with the subtle changes in the place of boxing on the American consciousness.  From the perspective of boostering women’s boxing, Bob Arum is also placing his money on the future place of women’s boxing in the prize fighting game, and given where we are vis-a-vis the run-up to the 2012 Olympics, that is a great thing.

You might also like “Lights On”

Twenty six days and counting

4 Replies

Twenty six days and counting

When one embarks on any sort of daily regimen of exercise, diet, writing or otherwise — or what I call the daily something, some days feel great and others are to put it charitably, “tougher” than others.

At best, one feels something a kin to a “glow” of self-satisfaction for having put in the work and effort while basking in what feels like tangible results.  At worst, however, is that feeling of being in the mud having worked and worked without getting anywhere — and maybe even losing some ground.

Like any annoying Pollyanna, my response is to say focus on the bright-side, but when one has schlepped oneself day after day to some activity, or to the discipline of say, no chocolate except on Saturdays and the scale looks back with numbers on the wrong side of the goal, that is small solace.

To put it more plainly, when one is my age, a later rather than sooner 50-something, a scale that tips the wrong way feels like a miserable defeat!   Inevitably (with a pardon to the youngsters out there) it becomes one of those “shut-up” moments when the whole hot flashing, weight fluctuating, mood altering, welcome to crone-hood stuff comes crashing down in a giant, “G-d damn-it”  because in my world it means I can’t find my glasses again to even keep the awful number on the scale in focus.

That’s when my other, less grumpy, too cheerful for her own good self makes an appearance and screams out “suck-it up!”

Let’s face it, 26 days of a daily something is an amazing achievement — and what’s meaningful is the “and counting” part of it.  So whether it’s shadow boxing before dawn, writing a poem a day or blogging about it, or any of the myriad of great things we all work hard to achieve, congratulations to you for even trying.

 

 

 

 

Waiting for morning to come

4 Replies

Waiting for morning to come

I’ll admit it, Yoga at 5:15 AM this morning felt cold and lonely.  Sure it was 9 degrees outside which had a lot to do with it, and yes, the cat had fun torturing my feet as I was in the downward facing dog position, but it was something else too.  I felt the sense of being in the middle without seeing the shoreline on either side.  Not exactly being adrift, but feeling dislocated.

A million odd years ago I took at windjammer type cruise in the Caribbean.  The trip was on an old Maine Schooner  (built in the early 1900’s), with about 30 passengers and crew.  The attraction to the voyage was that the trip was an actual crossing:  starting out in St. Martin’s making our way to such islands as St. Barts, St. Kitts and Saba Island towards the final destination of St. Thomas.  At one point on the trip, we were a sea with no land in sight.  I would cast my eyes about all 360 degrees and watch the shimmering waters as they met the horizon, catching the phenomenon of differing weather systems interacting:  here a sudden squall, there beams of sunlight pushing their way insistently through the gaps in the clouds.

It put me in mind of the months and years that sailors would ply the waters of the Atlantic, the Pacific and the Indian oceans in search of whale or spices or for sheer exploration.  Not that a vacation tour or a stint in the dark can in any way equate, but yet we do find ourselves in the momentary panic of being adrift when in fact is we are on course.   It’s just that we can’t quite see it yet.  Yes the light *will* eventually peak up and over the horizon this morning, as surely as the vessel I traveled on made its way forward till we saw land, still, I needed to feel reassured and finding it have gone on to embrace the day — whenever it wakes up enough to show itself.

Boxing day

2 Replies

Boxing day

Now that I’ve gone to a once a week training schedule for boxing, I find myself getting really excited by the time Friday comes along.  The daily fitness routine I’ve found that can work with my schedule these days is based around early morning yoga, but it’s the thought of boxing that gets me pumped up and ready to go.

My Saturday morning boxing routine begins with dropping my daughter off for her Aikido practice, after which I take a nice long walk over to  Gleason’s Gym. By the time I get there I’ve logged 2-1/2 miles at a pretty fast pace so I am nice and loose.  About a 1/2 mile out, I start pumping my arms a bit so that by the time I hit the gym I feel ready for one of my two favorites:  three rounds on the double-ended bag or three rounds of shadow boxing using the slip-rope.

For those who don’t usually practice, the slip-rope is real old-school consisting of something as simple as a clothes line tied between two poles or across the ring around 15 feet apart at about chest height. The object is to move forwards and backwards along the line and “slip” under as practice for slipping a punch. The slip-rope is also great for practicing upper cuts under the line — or for simulating jabs to the body and jabs to the head.  By around the third round, I feel loose enough to dance around the slip-rope going forwards, backwards, and circling.  Having the rope at chest height not only helps to “remind” me to slip, but also gives me an approximation of where to place body versus head punches.

Alternatively, I’ll use the double-ended bag for warm-ups starting with a round of lefts and finishing the second two rounds with combinations and a lot of hooks or upper cuts off the jab.

If I can train with Lennox Blackmore, we’ll do three rounds of pad work — with an aim of getting to four rounds by the end of January, five rounds by the end of February and six rounds by the end of March!  Once we’re done with the pads, it’s back to the double-ended bag for three rounds to work on punches and combinations that Lennox and I focused on during the training session on the pads. This helps to solidify moves, especially slipping punches to counter — a Lennox special. After that, it’s on to the speed bag for three rounds and then a whole lotta’ abs!  I’ll add that if Len isn’t around, I might work-out for three rounds on the heavy bag in lieu of pad work, or add in an extra three on the double-ended bag.

By the end I’m exhausted, but happy — and ready for the quick walk back over to pick-up my daughter.  I hope to keep this going for about three months so that by April I’ll be fit enough to get back into the ring for some light sparring.  We’ll see!

Daily bread

2 Replies

Daily bread

My husband is the baker in our family.  He has perfected two different breads, one a traditional kneeded bread and the other what he calls a “sloppy” bread that he has developed and modified from a wet dough that sits and proofs overnight before he adds in flour and lets rise before baking.  Both are delicious still warm from the oven with mounds of butter and honey or as an accompaniment to a hearty soup.

I bring this up because many of us go about our daily approach to life from different angles, the results of which are a kind of perfection.  The ingredients are the same:  the equivalent of flour, water, yeast and salt, and yet how we get there; our path to our outcome can be long or quick, meandering or purposeful.

We are also always tempered by circumstances.  Is the oven on the fritz?  Is it overly humid?  Has the yeast gone stale?  Is the flour high gluten?  Unbleached?  Mistaken for cake flour?  I have found from my own attempts at a daily something that the path to completion is a constant surprise.  This morning is no different.  With too little sleep last night, I adjusted the alarm clock to ring an hour later.  That variable has set in motion a reordering of morning. I write first.  In doing so my energy is different.  My breath less full than the other mornings of the last three weeks.  Even the cat is puzzled as she flits back and forth challenging me to get up off the couch to pay her some attention.

And perhaps that’s the point.  Our routines, become so — and yet we must constantly adapt; not so different than sorting through how to approach an opponent in the ring.  The parameters are the same, a 16 foot ring shared by two bodies in motion, and yet the one may be constantly in a swirl of action with the other acting and reacting to circumstance; relying on the ingredients,  training and conditioning, to figure out how best to proof the self to the best outcome possible.