The Glowing Edge

Category: Drills & Techniques

  • Bettah WATCH OUT for my jab, baby.

    Bettah WATCH OUT for my jab, baby.

    jab

    Well, well. I received the UNDIVIDED attention of both my trainers last night, and the Shred of the Century ensued. Apparently my jab is more poorly constructed than a Louisiana levee. So it got bulldozed and I proceeded to throw ten bafillion left jabs on command, mostly wrecks.

    One of my coaches put me through the jab shredder and the other one kept dogging my stance. I already knew my stance needed adjusting, but as you know I can only think of one thing at a time, and pretty soon I was in such poor form that I would have had trouble going the distance against Paris Hilton in the ring.

    Well, okay, let’s not be extreme — I’d have put her on the canvas in no time, and used my crappy but ingrained and heartfelt left jab to do it. Heh.

    Whew — just got lost in that fantasy for a minute. Where was I? Oh yeah, whining.

    The evil glowing laser of destruction was humming so loudly and focused so intently on me that eventually my team mates abandoned their heavy bags and came to watch the show. They began to offer their own versions of advice on my jab, stance, guard, position, reaction time, mouthguard, eye color, and choice of hand lotion. I think I took it well. I bit no one, and counted that my victory. And I threw forty craploads (and I mean that intentionally) of jabs.

    I threw so many left jabs that when I got home my sports bra had abraded a line of skin off the left side of my back. It’s a wonder I can move my arm today. But I can, amazingly. Of course, I can’t move it through the motion of a CORRECT LEFT JAB, but I can do 40 standard push-ups in the midst of my regular workout today and hardly notice.

    Okay, I feel better now, thanks for listening. My jab must be fixed. My stance must be fixed. We have the technology. We can repair me.

    And I want to say that I’m actually very grateful for my coaches, whom I adore (in a sick and twisted way), for having taken me to the woodshed. Better them than the boxers I face in the ring. And a particular squeeze of affection fist bump goes out to my team mates, who really did offer me good advice and believe in me despite my inconceivably grotesque left jab.

    I plan to show them my new one up close and personal.

  • Sample workout, arms emphasis

    Sample workout, arms emphasis

    Image by KayVee.INC on Flickr

    Image by KayVee.INC on Flickr

    This is a workout I regularly do for a non-boxing day. I always start with a couple of cardio warm-ups, but I prefer not to do two high-impact exercises like jump rope AND run, for example. (trying to go easy on my knees). On a boxing day, all bets are off; those are much tougher workouts. I’ll post one of those soon.

    Aerobic

    Elliptical
    15 minutes, at least half IN max heart rate zone (for me, 180)
    Jump rope
    3 rounds, 3 minutes each, 1 minute rest between rounds
    Every minute of every round should include 15-30 seconds of sprints

    Arms

    Arm circles:
    Hold 2.5-lb weight plates in each hand
    60 out to side, 60 out to front, 60 behind
    Forward and reverse in each grouping (30/30)
    Front deltoid raises:
    Raise a 25 lb barbell to chin
    3 sets of 12 reps
    Side deltoid fly:
    Raise both arms together like wings with 5 lb weight plates
    3 sets of 12 reps
    Rear deltoid fly:
    Hang forward and raise both arms together with 5 lb weight plates
    3 sets of 12 reps
    Forearm “crunches”:
    3 sets of 12 reps with 20 lb barbell, rolling it from fingertips to wrist-up position
    Tricep extensions:
    3 sets of 12 reps with 20 lb dumbell behind head
    Bicep curls:
    4 sets of 12 reps with 35 lb curl bar
    Reverse curls:
    2 sets of 12 reps with 25 lb curl bar

    Abs & Back

    Bosu Ball crunches
    200 forward, 100 left side, 100 right side
    Back extensions
    2 sets of 25
    Planks
    Finish with a one-minute plank (it’s like a little victory lap)

    I’m no expert at any of this, and have mostly learned by watching others. I would love to hear what you do — leave me a comment!

  • Beating the Clinch

    Beating the Clinch

    I’m about 155 pounds and 5’8″. Thomas is 180 pounds of solid muscle, and perhaps an inch shy of my height. A triathlete for the past ten years and a competitive wrestler as well, he moves with lightning speed and power. And as is more common with highly experienced athletes, all of his movements are carefully controlled. Which is why, after seeing him spar with my trainer, I was perfectly willing to get in the ring with him, and learn what he had to teach me.

    Beyond his punching power and speed, I knew he would be incredibly savvy in slipping my jabs, ducking, and getting in low. Although we are both over 40, he seems to have knees that will do anything for him. I would have to protect my stomach, ribs, and kidneys. Sometimes that feels like a catch-22: if my gloves are in front of my face (where they are needed!), my gut is exposed regardless of how well my elbows are tucked in. This is partly why boxers sometimes look a bit hunched over; they are protecting more of their body. Me, I don’t hunch very well. A lifetime of good posture makes me box like a plank. Think Pinocchio with poorly-oiled joints. The Tin Man, pre-Dorothy. It’s pathetic.

    But I do have long arms, which means an opposing boxer wants to get inside my reach in order to deliver the body blows, which is where the clinch comes in. When someone comes close in with a flurry of blows I simply can. not. think. anymore. I’m exhausted, and the only response I’ve been able to muster up is a hunched (hey, finally!) clinch. Plus begging for mercy, which isn’t pretty.

    Over and over again in the ring with Thomas I’d find myself there, being relentlessly pummeled from a clinch. He controlled his punches, but my ribs were taking a beating. “What do I do??” I finally huffed, the third or fourteenth time. “I don’t know what to do when I get in this position!”

    That seemed to flick a switch in Thomas (who is truly a very nice guy), who backed up and said, “Oh. You start throwing your uppercut at me. Really lean in to it, and if one doesn’t work, throw another. Shove me off and land your right as soon as I’m back in range. That oughta help.”

    And darned if it didn’t.

    I’ve never landed an uppercut on my trainer before, but Thomas politely enjoyed several and came back for more, making me repel the clinch and shove him away again and again. It was a little like punching and shoving a slow-moving train, but it marks the first time I’ve felt able to do something about being utterly under siege.

    Here’s to ring time, where learning meets motivation.