It’s not even a young person’s sport. This sport is for the ones who want it, who are willing to work their asses off to advance in it, and who are able to take the hits and dish out a few of their own. Boxing belongs to you. You dominating the ring is acting your age.
2. You have passion. That’s sexy.
Listen, we spent enough years pussy-footing around the world, asking everyone for permission to try things we were curious about or to unlock doors we wanted through. Now you’re the bouncer at the club of your own future. Hell, you’re the bouncer and the show. That’s hot. That’s damned hot.
3. Figure out your limits. Then bust through them.
One thing boxers have in spades is patience. Nobody learns to box in 10 minutes. Or 10 months. When you’re over 40, you have perspective, and by gawd you’re willing to claw your way to the level of fight performance you want, no matter how long it takes. Let the kids get discouraged. Let them come and go. We’re still here. We’ve seen problems and overcome them. We’re sneaky as well as badass. Be warned.
4. You’re older and smarter, so adapt things you need to adapt.
Physical limitations don’t faze boxers. I don’t do bear crawls anymore — you know why? Because they wreck my shoulders, and I need my shoulders for the ring. There is no shortage of types of exercise. If it takes me out, I don’t do it. If it keeps me in, I’m on it. And that’s all the justification I need, sucka.
5. Give yourself the recovery time you need.
Truth is you’d have more aches and pains if you didn’t box. That’s why other people take prescription painkillers rather than just aspirin. God invented aspirin (and icepacks) so that we could go on boxing. But we also know how to work hard, then let our bodies recover. Boxers know that muscles build during recovery.
6. The turkeys will flap. Let ’em flap.
E’erbody got something negative to say about boxing. We’re listening, until we’re not. Then we’re boxing.
7. Eat clean. Fuel your sport.
When you were 28, you could eat like Honey Boo Boo, drink like a college freshman, and still go out and run a 10k the next day. You still can! But the difference is that now your performance suffers. The other night I came home and found my husband in bed with vegetables. Dayum, that was sexy. Other people can eat powdered donuts in bed; their sport is laying around watching television. Veggies make for great…performance.
Is it safe to box in your forties? Are you likely to be injured? Should you even consider boxing if you have small children at home?
That’s me, still boxing at 47.
I started boxing at 42, I have a husband and three kids at home, and looking back, I’m slightly amazed that I never had these questions back when I started. But in those days I had other, more pressing issues. I’d never done anything like boxing (or anything else) for myself before. I was miserable and depressed. I didn’t think my marriage was going to survive. I frankly didn’t care what happened in the ring; I was just blindly hoping for something to relieve the darkness.
Boxing pulled me out of the abyss, and taught me how to fight for myself and the things I wanted.
And as I grew more proficient in boxing (and life) and started to spar regularly, people began to pose these questions to me.
They’re good questions from people who mean well, and some of them come from people who are not (or haven’t been) boxers themselves. But they ALSO come from boxers, like the awesome Glowing Edge reader who sent this email (I’ve edited it slightly):
I started MMA and kickboxing a year ago when I was 40. Been largely enjoying it and making good progress. I spar and grapple so it’s not pure ring work and punching but I do a fair share of boxing and boxing training.
I’ve definitely been tagged a few times. Nothing knee wobbling and no concussions but stunned a few times and a swollen nose once. And I can give it right back.
So, I’m not really scared about getting tagged, but after training I have a lot of thoughts, like, I’m 41 years old. I have small children at home. Do I need to be getting hit in the head at all? With all of the stuff in the news about concussions/suicide/etc. is even this very modest amount of boxing a risk? I need my brain at this point more than my fists. I talked to my doctor and she said she isn’t too worried if I’m not doing frequent, full contact boxing but I thought I’d see what your thoughts are.
I don’t see myself competing in the future unless it’s in jiu jitsu where you can compete as a “senior.” However, I like to put the skills I have into practice. I’m in the best shape and the least stressed out I’ve ever been so I’m hesitant to limit myself to just the bag but I also want to be smart.
First of all, how fantastic to hear about someone taking up a fight sport and getting in such great shape. And clearly doing well and enjoying themselves! Also, he got checked out by a doctor, who gave him a reasonably cautious but optimistic go-ahead (I’ll talk about frequency of sparring below). That’s win #2, because not all doctors will genuinely support someone who boxes; some are very frowny-scowly. And finally, the good news is that it IS possible to compete in a “senior” division in boxing, just like in jiu jitsu. See below…
I’ll get there, I promise! But let me see if I can answer a few of the most frequently asked questions first.
1. Can you box in your 40s?
Sure you can. Plenty of us do. You can even compete in boxing in your 40s on an official amateur or a professional level.
Even if you don’t get in the ring for sparring or competition, you can get a phenomenal all-body workout with boxing and get into the best shape of your entire life. But you probably already knew this. I think the real question comes next.
2. Do you have to get hit in boxing, or can you box without that?
You CAN box with NO body contact.
You will hit things, but you don’t have to BE hit. You can do all the fitness training that goes with boxing, even hitting the heavy bag, speed bag, and mitts, without ever getting punched in the face (or body) at all. For people who have concerns about safety, there you go. Non-contact boxing is going to be the safest path for you.
3. Are you going to get injured if you box?
Boxing is like any sport; you can, and probably will sustain some sort of minor injuries.
All of my non-contact boxing injuries were the kind I could have gotten simply going to a gym to work out. Beyond the normal aches and pains, the torn rotator cuff (which I got doing unassisted pull-ups, and I don’t do those any more) was the worst.
Cesar Hernandez and Jose Santiago, both fighting over 40.
If you do spar or compete, you may get a black eye, or a bloody nose. The more serious injuries tend to happen to new boxers who are not as skilled and a lot more scared than an experienced boxer.
My worst injury in the ring was as a newbie — I got a broken rib, and that bastard hurt. Took me about 3 months to get over that one, but I haven’t been seriously injured since.
So. Minor shit, yeah. Big stuff? No. And I try to spar about once a week, and compete every year.
4. What about hard punches to the face and head? Aren’t they dangerous?
They certainly can be. That’s why boxers (at any age)
train with good coaches and sparring partners who have everyone’s best interest at heart.
And yes, there are lots of conversations in the media (even from President Obama, at this year’s Superbowl) and among scientists and pension boards about whether or not repeated concussions from boxing, football, and soccer are causing dementia, Parkinson’s, and a host of other problems. MMA head injuries are under the media microscope as well. All of those should be considered by someone who wants to get in the ring.
Have I thought about all this? Of course. But I also work pretty hard to mitigate the risks. And I haven’t been doing this since I was a teenager, so I’m not going to have the same number of years of it piling up like a young fighter might.
5. But professional boxers don’t wear headgear during their fights…
That’s true, and pro boxing definitely takes a harder toll on the body than amateur boxing, which requires competitors to wear headgear.
However, pro boxers don’t spend the majority of their time fighting at full power without headgear.
They spend MOST of their time training, lifting weights, doing intervals, and working the bags and mitts like everyone else. They spar more when getting ready for a fight, but even so, they don’t go out every single week (like football players do) and put themselves into the highest risk situations. They might fight a few times per year, even as many as 10 times a year in the elite circles. But the majority of boxers aren’t doing that.
6. Is boxing worse for injuries than other sports?
I might put competitive fighting (including MMA and all of the martial arts) in the top 10 of most dangerous sports, along with football, soccer, rugby, and cheerleading, but I don’t have any kind of science or data behind that.
But what about base jumping, free climbing, bull riding, motocross, pro surfing, scuba diving, street luge, BMX riding, heli-skiing, hockey, lacrosse, mountaineering, NASCAR, and other dangerous sports?
I do know that you can be mildly or devastatingly injured in any sport. You can build up cumulative damage over a period of years in any sport. It’s worth considering, but I’ve found that boxing is also worth doing.
7. Is it irresponsible to box if you have kids at home who need you?
Before I started boxing, my three sons had a mother who did everything for them and nothing for herself, and they had parents with a failing marriage. I don’t know if they knew how unhappy and depressed I was, but I know it’s very different for them now.
Since I started boxing, they’ve learned to do their own laundry, make their own meals, and they are expected to pitch in around the house. They have a mother who is tough and courageous. They have parents with a solid marriage and joy in life.
It’s clear to me which one is the better model.
I understand the people who worry about head injuries. I think that’s a reasonable concern, but I don’t see a lot of that in boxing, except at the long-term professional level.
Boxing teaches you to care for your physical, spiritual, and emotional health. It teaches discipline, respect, and balance. And fight sports are practiced in very controlled arenas, with coaches and teammates and specialized gear.
These all feel like very important life gifts and opportunities to have.
8. Should I let my daughter see her father fighting?
There are other parents who are not sure how they feel about their sons and (particularly) daughters seeing Mom or Dad punching and getting punched in the ring.
I think this is about personal preference, although I can tell you that I wish I’d discovered boxing LONG before I was in my 40s. But I had no idea women even boxed, and I’d certainly never learned anything about the real skills, training, and care that goes into learning to fight.
My sons aren’t particularly interested in boxing (not having grown up with it), but if you ask them they’ll tell you it’s kinda cool that their mom fights. They would be willing to come see me fight (and I’d love to have them), but I usually have to travel and can’t afford for all of us to go.
When people say “But you don’t want your children to see you getting beat up!” I always smile at the assumption that I’m getting “beat up” in the ring. Maybe otherpeople are getting “beat up” by me, I’d love to say, but I know what they mean.
I hit, and I get hit, but I’m also okay. I like my sparring partners: we laugh, groan, grunt, and sweat together. We try to talk over our mouthguards. We get yelled at by our coaches. We work on specific tactics and shots. We nod and acknowledge particularly skilled moves.
Some days I suck, or perform poorly, or am utterly outmatched. Some days I’m teaching and supporting newer fighters. But it’s not typically an atmosphere of anger or ugliness.
I’d be fine with my daughter watching, if I had one.
9. Should I consider competitive boxing if I’m over 40?
USA Boxing, which governs amateur competition in the United States, puts all boxers over the age of 35 into the Masters category. It differs from the younger age groups in that Masters boxers are required to have a few more medical checks, like an EKG every 5 years. And in addition to the normal weight regulations, Masters boxers can not have an official match with anyone who is more than 10 years older or younger than they are.
So of course you can consider competitive boxing if you’re over 40. And for some of us, that’s the first time in our lives we actually do consider it!
10. How many fights can an over-40 boxer expect to get?
There aren’t nearly as many Masters fighters as there are in the under-35 bracket, as you might guess. I haven’t tracked the men, but most years in my state (NC) there have been between one and three registered female Master boxers. I usually know who they are. I’d guess there are at least five or six times that many male Master fighters.
So there aren’t as many opportunities to get matches, but if you have the money and can travel, Gleason’s Gym in NY holds annual Masters tournaments and Ringside also has a Masters tourney every year.
It’s not impossible to get fights in your local area (I’ve done it), but often you have to find and get someone to travel to your location. Corporate boxing groups like Atlanta Corporate Fight Night, are a newer thing in the US, and also offer opportunities for 40 and up boxers.
Coming Next: Best Advice for Over 40 Boxers
When I raised the issue of fighting after 40 on the Facebook page for The Glowing Edge, I got some great responses from boxers about what to think about, ways boxing is different for us, and what factors are the most different. Since this one got a bit long, my next post will cover some of those items, so check back soon.
Meanwhile, I hope you’ll leave a comment below with your own questions and thoughts on the matter! Stay strong and keep swinging…
I recently got a fantastic new boxing training partner. Any time you find someone reliable and skilled in your sport, you’re bound to learn new things right away.
Yvonne is a former world champion and pro fighter in her 40s, and she just moved to my town a couple of months ago. We started working together in the gym, and after a few training sessions outside the ring she told me she was ready to do some light sparring.
What was different about our sparring was that we decided not to wear headgear. Our intent was to get good work in, but not to hit hard.
Training without headgear
For Yvonne, a seasoned pro, boxing without headgear was nothing new. For me, it was something I’d thought about, but I’ve never had a training partner I trusted enough to do it with on a regular basis.
Could she get hurt by me? Of course. I weigh 20 pounds more than she does, and love to stand and slug. But as a long-time pro fighter who is light and quick on the inside, she could lay some pain on me as well.
Sparring without headgear means you both agree to work on solid hits that don’t punch through, even throwing many shots that only touch to score.
Controlling your power
The urge to use power in boxing is incredibly seductive. It’s normal, of course, to hit hard; everyone expects that. But there’s a fine line when you’re training in the ring. You don’t always know what your sparring partner is going to do. Will they try to get work, or are they trying to prove something? Will they be letting emotions, baggage, or a loud corner, parent, or coach drive them to try to hurt you?
Sometimes it’s a question of being new to the sport. The newer you are, the less control you have. This is why it’s best for a newbie to be in the ring with an experienced boxer.
But once you are reasonably good at your sport and can control your shots, are you willing to? There are people watching and judging. Do they doubt your power? Do you doubt your own power? What are you risking by pulling your punches?It’s a vulnerable feeling, hitting without hurting.
But if you’re able and willing to do it, there are tremendous benefits.
Sparring without headgear makes me pay close attention to my work. I have to focus more and be less sloppy, because if I quit thinking, I can hurt someone.
I try to balance my head and body shots now because I tend to be a headhunter, and now I’m aware that my partner is unprotected.
I’ve become bolder — I know I’m not going to get hurt — so I can take time to focus intensively on new things — particularly inside work, which is not where I like to keep my game.
Easing the punishment to your joints
But more than anything else, I’ve realized how much less joint pain I’ve had.
When you spend two or three of your training days piling up rounds of heavy bag work and/or sparring, your body takes some damage. Up until now I’d been spending most of my gym time working with power.
And the heavy bag (especially) doesn’t give much; every time you use power on a heavy bag, that resistance takes a toll on your hand, wrist, elbow and shoulder joints.
Doubling and tripling your training
Because of the heavy damage to my body in boxing, I had restricted high-impact boxing work (heavy bag and/or sparring) to no more than one day a week. The other training days I did weights, cardio, and so on.
Once Yvonne and I started sparring 6-8 rounds once a week with no headgear, I suddenly experienced a complete elimination of day-after joint pain. I no longer needed recovery time, I no longer had trouble sleeping on my side.
Now we spar 6-8 rounds twice a week, and still I have no difficulties, and am ready to add a third day of boxing-specific work on the heavy bag.
I’ve been amazed at the difference, and incredibly pleased with how my body is performing.
Still hitting hard
Can I still hit hard? You bet your ass I can. Do I still lay into the heavy bag? Sure. And I tackle padwork now and then, and expect to do harder sparring periodically as well.
But for now, I’m very happy to have doubled my training time and completely eliminated my joint pain.
What about you? Have you found ways to fight well and still care for your body? Leave me a comment below!
If you’re over 40 and in the amateur ring, boxing most likely isn’t (and isn’t going to be) your career. But you can pretty much guarantee that it will change your life.
I’m not trying to convince you of something, I’m mostly reminding myself. It helps to remind myself, because boxing will gobble up your life and body and leave you with little, if you let it. Being an amateur boxer after 40 is sort of like owning an exotic, voracious racing beast. Only weirdos like you love these things, can’t get enough of them, and are willing to put the incredible amount of time and energy into training and upkeep.
And I’m not even really joking. Here’s what I mean…
1. Boxing Draws the Intensely Passionate
In my experience, there are mostly two reactions to boxing: people find it to be sheer brutality they can barely stand to think about, much less watch… Or it gives them a massive jolt of juice, and they can barely tear their eyes away.
I fell into the first category for most of my life, but when I stumbled into boxing for fitness, then began to watch my trainer, Bonnie Mann, bring amateurs into the ring — I got my first jolt of the juice. It was bizarre, exotic, empowering. It was as if some channel in me that had been blocked up for 40 years was suddenly opened, and I was flooded with energy.
The intense rush swept me right into competitive boxing, and suddenly the stakes changed. Not only was I a wife, mom of three boys, and full-time corporate marketing person — boxing began to take it’s first fat weekly paycheck of heart, time, and pain out of my life.
This meant I had to do a lot of re-scripting of the way my personal universe ran.
The life I thought I had wanted now chafed. I was no longer willing — after decades of doing it — to be at home for my family’s needs every single night of the week. I was no longer willing to give up most of who I was for other people. There was something big, something powerful, something only for me that I wanted, and to get it I had to quit giving everyone else all my time and energy.
If I hadn’t done it, I don’t know if my marriage would have lasted, and I definitely wouldn’t be the same parent I am now.
Some days I think I owe boxing my life.
This is not a small change to go through at age 42. Don’t say you weren’t warned.
2. Boxing Demands a High Standard of Training at the Lowest Levels
Part of the reason boxing has such incredible power to change your life is because it requires an intense commitment at even the very lowest levels of the sport.
You can’t stroll into a boxing gym one day, hop in the ring and spar with someone (any gym worth their leather would never let this happen anyway), and expect to come out well.
To spar, you need to be training 3-4 days a week, with intervals, minimum.
To compete, you’ll need a 6-7 week “training camp.” That means you eat right and train hard and very specifically for the opponent you expect to meet (or to increase your strengths and minimize your weaknesses) for about 2 months.
You’ll probably be in the gym 4 or 5 days each week, although not all those days are boxing-specific; you’ll work on cardio, speed, accuracy, explosion, power, etc. in addition to hitting the bags and sparring. You have to stay mentally focused, and be extremely careful not to get injured toward the end of that period of intense training. And I don’t mean blood or bruises, I mean the kind of injury that would nix your fight.
If you’re over 40, you’re not likely to want to maintain that level of fitness for more than just a training camp. Because, you know, you have a life outside boxing. (Sort of.)
3. Boxing Takes a Physical Toll
The main reason I’m not in the boxing gym more than about twice a week during regular times is that it takes a fairly large toll on your body.
Even just hitting the speed bags and heavy bags for 10 rounds is going to cause some aches and pains and build up a cumulative pain in my joints. After several years, and plenty of minor injuries (sprained wrist, broken rib, torn rotator cuff x 2) to teach me my boundaries, I’ve learned how to create a boxing training regimen that works for me.
Interestingly, the chances for getting injured during your actual boxing match (if you are competing in the amateurs, not the pros) are far lower than your chance for getting injured during training.
Mostly that’s because you are only there for a very short period of time. Amateur rounds are typically 2 minutes each, and you only get three of those. Even though you’re both fighting all out, looking for the knockout or at least for blood and damage, it’s over before you know it, and there isn’t really enough opportunity for someone to get seriously hurt.
Several things to know if you’re over 40 and interested in competing in boxing…
First, everyone you fight will be within 10 years of your age, so you’re likely to get harder ring work at your gym, where everyone is 20 years old!
However, everyone you fight will have given up just as much as you have, and may have trained harder.
Maybe they don’t have kids still at home. Maybe they have not avoided interval sprints like you did. Maybe they’ve been training longer than you have.
I took 6 weeks off of boxing lately, mostly just to rest, focus on work, and give myself a break after my last fight.
I’m not crazy, though — I kept up my runs and weights at home. I just didn’t do any boxing-specific work. No heavy bag, no sparring, no punching drills. I didn’t even show my nose at the gym.
When I went back for the first time this week I carefully stayed out of the classes that were training in the gym and did my own slow and careful workout: warm-up, shadowboxing, 10 rounds on the heavy bag.
The next two days showed me the muscles I had not been training while out of boxing: forearms, lats (although I swear I did lats!!), and some obliques. Also my neck was sore from carrying all the tension of the first workout back.
But amazingly, my shoulders were good.
I’ve had chronic bursitis in my hips and shoulders for as long as I can remember.
You gotta have shoulders to box.
You gotta have everything, I guess, but I never would have guessed that I could actually find work-arounds for the issues I have to deal with in my body’s performance, and still box well.
I was over 40 when I started this sport, and I was astonished that I could box well even though my hip joint issues meant I couldn’t run distance (for me, that means more than 4 miles).
Now I’m learning that I don’t have to punish my shoulder joints, either, in order to compete in the ring.
At first I sweated hard to learn to do dozens of standard push-ups, along with burpees, pull-ups, and the other shoulder-intense exercises. For several years I dealt with a level of everyday pain that I thought I would have to live with, if I was going to box.
Then I tore the rotator cuff in my right shoulder (doing unassisted pull-ups), requiring 3 months of physical therapy and a lot of time out of the ring. That shoulder became — and still is — the single body part I most have to favor.
My physical therapist — a pro fighter a few years older than me — told me to cut back on the heavy shoulder work. “You’ll still box just fine,” she assured me. And I decided to test it out.
So I stopped obsessing about building the number of push ups I could do, and I started re-working my personal training workouts.
And my pain levels started to recede…
But the real challenge is in what to do when the whole team is working out together.
I began by thinking up a few alternate exercises.
For example, when the team is doing entire rounds of toe-taps on the medicine ball, I do steps instead, which hurt my hips less. When the team is doing burpees, I do deep lunges instead. If the command is for 50 standard push ups, I’ll do knee push ups.
It’s extremely difficult to be doing something different from everyone else on the team, but I try to tell myself that I’m 46 and they are 20, and I’m allowed. I can still meet them with a nasty-ass right when the bell rings.
This one single thing — not doing what everyone else is doing — is the absolute hardest part of my sport. I must have a big pride thing going on, because I absolutely *hate* having to do my own thing. But I’ve finally decided to do it anyway.
And I’ve found that my results in the ring are just as good, which is why I am sticking with it.
The second thing I’ve changed is to lower the weights, reps, and impact.
If the call is for 50 arm lifts with weights, I’ll do 30, or lighten the weight. I don’t shadow box with 5-pound weights, I use 1-pounders instead. Believe me, I could do all this stuff full-bore before, but I paid a heavy price in pain levels and injuries.
And there was simply no need to do that.
The third thing I’ve done is test the time limits.
By testing, I’ve found that I can do as many 1 minute (not 3 minute) sets of toe-taps as everyone else and still be relatively pain-free.
I’ve been working actively on that particular exercise, so I haven’t yet tested 2 minute rounds, but the 1 minute rounds are solid.
I can’t change all my time limits, but I change the ones that hit my hips and shoulders the worst. Amazingly, sparring is not affected at all. Which is probably further proof — if I needed it — that just because I’m not starting every workout with 100 push-ups doesn’t mean I am going to suck in the ring.
When I was back in the gym this week for the first time in 6 weeks, I was struck by how many shoulder-intense exercises both training groups were doing.
One coach had the team doing literally hundreds of dips, followed by alternating-hand push-ups on a medicine ball. (If you start with your left hand on the ball and your right hand on the floor, you do a push-up, then shift quickly so that your right hand is now on the ball and your left is on the floor. Repeat. It takes balance, speed, and lots of shoulder strength.) Anyone who fell behind was assigned 50 more push-ups.
That session would have been a total loss for me.
As it was, I did my own workout, which involved exactly zero dips or push-ups. I’ll put some of those in there as I get going again, but it will be far less than those guys are doing.
In the end, my lesson has been — once again — that I have to know my own body and look out for myself. Even in the face of pressure from a coach or the team.
So I’m passing it along to you. Boxing is an incredible, joy-giving, empowering sport and with a basic level of fitness, you can do it. Even if you’re over 40. Even if you have cranky hips and shoulders. You can do it!
In January of 2011 I got some new comments on my post 9 Reasons to Start Boxing After 40. One of the women commenting was Jenny, who is 46 years old, living on the West coast. She had recently started taking boxing classes, lost some weight, and was excited about her next step in boxing: making the move from group fitness classes to private boxing lessons. That’s her in the picture.
Jenny and I spoke via email about how she is choosing to spend time (and money — she’s taken some smart and creative measures to find the money to pay for her gym membership) taking care of herself.
I wish I had learned that lesson long before I did. For most of my life I thought I could never leave the house in the evening or be unavailable to do things for my husband and sons. It was just crazy, but I know lots of women have struggled with that.
Jenny gets it. Her story is filled with the joy of boxing and personal discovery, and she gave me permission to share some of what she’s written here. May it inspire even more women to find their own strength, passion, and confidence!
Keep rockin’ it, Jenny.
* * * * * *
I was so nervous about my first lesson. I could tell my teacher was too; we really didn’t know each other that well.
We started from the very beginning and worked on the basics: how to stand, where to put my hands, etc. He likes a more sideways stance to your opponent. It has been hard to get used to because at first I felt that my jab needed to come from a leg twist. Now, 6 classes later I really get how I need to stay grounded and find the power through my legs. My jab is getting better.
The first few lessons we only worked on jabs and straight rights; now I’m up to hooks and uppercuts.
After a jump-rope warm-up, he gets me in the ring and I do some shadow boxing to start so I can loosen up and get my feet working. I feel like such a dork when I shadow box. I need to practice on my own in front of a mirror — I’m still really stiff.
My favorite is pad work. I love it. He moves all around and makes sure that I don’t turn my back on him, that I stay loose and maintain my correct stance while moving around. It’s a lot to remember.
And he’s also big on bopping me in the head. I’m getting better. He was only able to get me about 8 times today before I really blocked him. And that’s down from 12 last time. I made the mistake of telling him, so today he felt challenged to bop me 13 times. But he could only get in 8!! Yeah for me.
I just absolutely love it. It’s my favorite hour of the week!
I don’t even know where I’m heading with all of this or what my goals are. I just turned 46 and I want to keep getting fit and healthy. A still have a few bad pounds to lose and some good pounds to gain.
I don’t know if I’ll ever make it into the ring with anyone, but I’ll see where it takes me.
Rachel Healy is a quiet, elegant woman. She has understated magnetism that pulls you in and makes you tell her everything.
Or maybe I just run my mouth constantly about boxing and she’s kind enough to not only listen, but also to (gasp) publish what I’m running on about. Say hello to my new BFF!
Rachel is the multi-talented web editor of the Garner Citizen, just across from the coffee shop down the road from me, and here’s a link to the front page story she wrote about this whole crazy woman boxing thing. Get this: in order to write the story, she actually came and did some boxing with me. Not just a class, either — lots of people do that. This fearless woman got in the ring, too. You rock, Rache!
Think about the difference between saying, “Yeah, I play a little basketball,” versus “The stitches don’t bother me. I have another fight next month; you should come.” C’mon, it’s just cool. And when was the last time you had legitimate Cool Points, when you downloaded the Zippo lighter app to your iPhone? Puh-leeze.
2. Business smarts
If there is one thing you must do to thrive in the ring, it’s develop the ability to think clearly under massive pressure. That translates really nicely to the business world. Mergers and acquisition? Hostile takeovers? High finance? Forty-seven third graders? Bring it.
3. Get your mind off of work
Forget business smarts, if you’ve been racing your career motorcycle this long, you might want to ease up on that throttle and get off the bike now and then. It feels great to unsuit and pound the crap out of something. And taking a few good hits will definitely clear out the last of your desire to work 24/7, I promise.
4. Increase your bone density
Ok, you’re over 40 and it’s time to lay off the loaded potato skins at T.G.I. Friday’s and get under that bench press bar. Your bones aren’t going to get stronger unless you bring them some game, and weightlifting — a boxer’s primary tool for building muscle — is just the way to do it.
5. Muscle is sexy
All that weightlifting and other training is going to pay off in terms of the way your body looks, feels, and delivers. You’ll like what you see in the mirror, and so will whoever’s looking at you when you step out of the shower. Hubba hubba.
6. Me time
It wasn’t so long ago that you couldn’t take your eyes off the kids for a second or they’d eat all the buds of the neighbor’s peonies and you’d be on the phone with Poison Control. These days, they’re a little older and you only have to worry about paying the extra car insurance, who they’re dating, whether they’re texting and driving, and… whoops, sorry about that. My point was going to be that you can get away some nights and have “me time” without them. Boxing fits the bill.
7. Mentor someone
Ok, if you just don’t get enough with the kids, you’ll find some at the gym. They will be faster and have a higher punch count and they will bring a serious press to you in the ring, but you’ll be able to outlast and out think them. And you have the maturity to see a much bigger picture than they do. Why not be a good influence and also kick their butts (in the later rounds) too? Now that’s what I call a satisfying mentoring relationship.
8. Get out of your comfort zone
Let’s face it, you’ve been trying to find a place of comfort and ease for years. Stop that, it’s not good for you. Get off your butt and out of your rut and learn something new. Growing means risks, and boxing has just the right balance of risk and safety to give you a jolt and still send you home in one piece. Mostly one piece.
9. Eat better
Believe me, you are not going to work hard enough to go a few rounds and then sabotage yourself with crap eating. If you take to boxing, you’re going to want to support it every way you can, and that will spur you to make positive changes to the way you fuel your body. You’re sick of sports bar food anyway. This is gonna be purely delicious.
