Tag: first time

  • When You Have a Bad First Sparring Experience

    When You Have a Bad First Sparring Experience

    Sparring is NOT boxing for fitness. When you get in that ring, everything changes. It’s not like drills, it’s not like working the heavy bag, it’s not like padwork.

    Sparring is radically different. Someone is trying to punch you in the face, and when you’re new to it, this can be not only terrifyingly alien, it can be downright demoralizing.

    Here’s an email I received recently about exactly that:

    I love The Glowing Edge, and it has been an invaluable resource to me as I begin to take the sport more seriously. I wanted to write to get your take on beginning to spar.

    I have been going to a boxing gym for two years. The structure of the gym is mostly boxing-for-fitness classes. There’s only one other woman at the gym who spars and I finally had my first experience sparring with her.

    I only went three rounds and I was rattled. It’s much more intimidating than I thought. I don’t know this fighter well. I didn’t feel comfortable asking her to ease up, I was worried that it would embarrass my coach and even though I’ve been going at it so hard in classes and training, all of a sudden I felt like there had been a gap in my education.

    1. What can I do to move forward from a first night of sparring that felt sort of demoralizing?
    2. Am I just being a whiny dumbass?

    I don’t want to be one of those types who only shows up to sparring once or twice and then fades out. But I don’t know how to approach my coach about this. I also don’t want to go back to just doing classes for fun.

    Hey, sparring sister. I know EXACTLY the stage you are in and NO you are not a whiny dumbass. This is 100% normal, and many of us have this same experience. More in a sec. First let me say this…

    Sparring takes some getting used to

    It really does. It’s a whole different game than pad work, drills, everything. That you went 3 rounds as a newbie is damned impressive. It’s some scary shit, right?

    You had your first sparring experience with someone you didn’t really know, and I get that you wanted to not disappoint your coach. Sounds like she kinda overwhelmed you.

    Here’s what the BEST sparring partners do for you

    The best sparring partners hold themselves TO or JUST ABOVE your level so that you can get some good work without getting hurt or demoralized.

    Sure, you may be bruised and headachy, but not so much that you’re like, “I don’t know if I want to do this again.”

    The best coaches make sure this happens. But not everybody gets this kind of attention. Just a fact of gym life.

    This is why you might not get much help when you’re new to sparring…

    Boxing gyms do not survive because pro fighters train there. They don’t make money because someone wants to learn to compete in the amateurs, either. The trainers and coaches are not always even boxers themselves.

    Boxing gyms survive financially because people want to get fit, not hit.

    That’s just how it is. That’s where the money is, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

    However, that means you have to take some initiative if you want to get your higher-level training and sparring work. SO. Here are a few tips for that.

    The process of finding and getting to know sparring partners takes time and balls (ovaries?). If your gym doesn’t always give newbies excellent sparring partners who know how to do this, you gotta start building your own sparring program…

    How to build YOUR OWN sparring program at ANY gym

    1. Get to know some sparring partners.

    Good sparring partners are SOLID GOLD to have. So make sparring friends. Travel to multiple gyms if you have to. Trade phone numbers. Friend them on Facebook.

    The more you actually know other boxers as friends, the more comfortable you will be talking to them in the ring, letting them know what you need, helping them adjust to you.

    Guys are fine for this. Just because you’re female doesn’t mean you have to only spar women. (That is such a bullshit attitude and I see it now and then from coaches.)

    In fact, befriend some big guys. Charm them. Ask them for their opinion, for tips on certain moves. They are men, they love this shit. I’m telling you, this works every time. Hello men? Am I wrong? No I am not. 🙂

    Let them feel like they are “mentoring” you — because guess what? They actually are.

    Then when they’re getting in the ring, ask for their “warm up” rounds. In other words, you’re making it clear that their “warm up” is your “training.” They stop feeling pansy-ass working with a “girl” and start feeling all helpful to a woman.

    I know, cheesy manipulation tactics.

    But it really does work. Women have to be sneaky-asses sometimes in pursuit of bigger goals.

    There will come a day when your rounds are nobody else’s warm ups, and when you’ll shine in the ring. You will be the one all the new people ask for help.

    2. Don’t wait until “sparring night.”

    Hijack the process and make your own timeline.

    I told you this would take balls. Stop being so damn polite!

    The more you can pass off your sparring as “just working on some tactics with so-and-so” the more pressure you take off everyone involved, including any coach who might be nearby.

    FAKE it till you make it. Pretend it’s all very casual — force it to be. Believe me, that helps SO much.

    3. Be consistent.

    Keep at it. The longer you go without sparring, the scarier it gets.

    I’m still boxing while I stare 50 in the face, and loving every day of it. I love when sparring is magic, and I even love the days when I get my ass kicked (the good kind of ass kicking, not the demoralizing kind).

    There’s so much joy and empowerment in this sport; I really hope you’ll stick with it!

    Let yourself be a newbie for a few years

    You are brand-freaking-new at this. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but boxing takes FOR EVER to get good at.

    You’re going to get better at dealing with the punches. You’re going to get better at moving your head and feet. You’ll learn to control the ring.

    And you’re going to get to know more and more people in the boxing world the longer you stick with this. This may be the biggest, most life-encompassing challenge you’ve ever faced on a daily basis.

    It’s totally worth it.

    Photo Credit: kate.gardiner via Compfight cc

  • What Happens When You Get Punched in the Face

    What Happens When You Get Punched in the Face

    It’s easy to work out in a boxing gym, pounding the heavy bag, focusing on your combinations, power, footwork, and cardio. You can do round after round on the speed bag and double-end bag, getting your timing and coordination right. But when you get in the ring and get punched in the face that very first time, pretty much everything you’ve worked so hard to learn flies straight out the window.

    Mike Tyson said it well. “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.”

    When you’re working with newer boxers, it’s not hard to accidentally tag them hard. Even if I’m pulling punches, working for touches rather than hard hits, sometimes they walk into one. And it is no fun, I know from experience. That damn glove pops you bam! on nose and you think, Shit! What the hell was that!?

    You immediately drop your guard, your plan, your everything, and try to figure out whether or not you’re bleeding, whether this is important, whether or not you intend to keep boxing.

    I did this to a friend in the ring recently, so it’s fresh in my mind. And I’m remembering my first few (dozen, hah) sparring rounds and how much of a shock it was to actually be hit, hard. Not necessarily because someone has it in for you, but come on, this is boxing. It’s going to happen. I knew that. My sparring partner who took two heavy straight rights from me this week (in the very first round, ugh) knew that. But it can still put a hard stop on operations.

    What happens in your head, when you take your first hard shot

    The first thing you experience is outright shock. You know you’re boxing, but being punched in the face is just not something we’re used to. How could it be? The shock is what causes you to falter, to stop working and stand there in disbelief.

    This is the first and greatest hurdle to get over in boxing, and of course there are lots of people who say “Why would I want to get over that hurdle? What an insane sport.” And I understand those people, I truly do. But the simple fact is that learning to take a punch taught me a much bigger lesson about myself, and about life.

    Let’s admit it, life is not an insulated little nursery school play yard. If you don’t grow a pair (ovaries or balls, you choose) NOW, you are actively, knowingly putting at great risk all the good gifts you’ve been given and the future you deserve to have. There are things in life you must fight for, or they’ll be taken away from you by force.

    Learning that I could take a punch and not be stopped in my tracks by it was one of the most empowering moments of my entire life.

    The pain sets in a second after the shock. And it’s tempting to let pain derail your plans the way shock can. Pain is powerfully persuasive. A straight shot to the nose stings, makes your eyes immediately well up, and sends a jolt of sparks across your whole face. Your nose feels squashed, although it won’t swell for another minute or so. Sometimes you bleed, sometimes your nose simply drips. It’s hard not to believe you’re seriously injured, but usually you aren’t. You simply aren’t used to it.

    What happens to the rest of your game

    Nothing, that’s what. You drop your guard and paw at your face. You stare at your sparring partner as if you’ve never actually met before. You shake your head and try to figure out what to do next. You swear over your mouthguard.

    If you have a good sparring partner or trainer, they’ll pick up the slack for you by telling you to get your guard back up and get your ass back in the game. The bell hasn’t rung, and it’s your job to keep working until it does.

    Why it’s important to get punched in the face, hard

    If you intend to box you are going to take some hard damn shots. It’s a thousand times better to experience this in the ring with a trusted partner than it is to learn it for the first time when you’re in a real match against an opponent who really is trying to knock your head off.

    The simple truth is you get experienced at taking shots. You find out what it is going to feel like, you begin to understand how to avoid the worst of the pain, you learn how to deal with the shock and keep fighting, blood or no blood. That’s a hugely valuable lesson.

    One time I was driving on the interstate when I saw a powerline suddenly snap loose and drop down across the highway, and a policeman on a motorcycle (right in front of me) hit the cable and went flying off his bike, right into oncoming traffic. It was a damned miracle that he wasn’t killed outright. I immediately pulled into the central lane that divided the highway and came to a quick stop, as did several other cars whose drivers saw it happen.

    I distinctly remember standing in the middle of the highway in shock, staring at the downed officer laying in the middle of a lane of traffic. It was exactly like being punched hard in the face. I was in complete shock when I should have been working with the other people jumping out of their cars to stop traffic, get to the officer, and call for help.

    Fortunately, others on the scene were more experienced than I was, and the end of the story is that the officer and the motorcycle were banged up but essentially okay. There were no other wrecks. The power line was taken care of.

    If I were to be in a similar situation now I know I would do a better job of shaking off the shock and working through a plan. Maybe I wouldn’t perform with style and grace, but I’d at least have a chance at it.

    One last truth, one secret joy

    My husband is reading Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game, by Michael Lewis. (You may have seen the movie with Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill.) The author talks about how the major leagues are great at chewing up and spitting out hitters. You might be able to hit in the minors, but when you come up to the show, every pitcher in the game has studied your weaknesses, and if you don’t like ’em high and inside, that’s what you’re gonna get. They’ll find out exactly what you can’t hit, and pitch it to you.

    Sound anything like life? It’s definitely true in boxing. You have to get good at being punched hard in the face, because that’s exactly what someone is going to be doing to you. And the better you can shrug it off, slip it off, let it slide past without stunning and stopping you, the faster you’ll move up in the game.

    And the secret truth that every boxer holds tight in his or her soul? It’s empowering. It feels fucking awesome to be able to take a hard shot and keep fighting. No other way to say it than that.

    It’s a high cost, perhaps, but well worth the pay out.

    What do you think? What was it like, the first time you took a shot, in the ring or in life, and how did you do? Would you do better now? Leave me a comment and share your story!

    CC image by ennuiislife on Flickr

  • What to Expect the First Time You Spar in Boxing

    What to Expect the First Time You Spar in Boxing

    Whether you started boxing for fitness or because you want to compete, one of the most scary and exciting things you’ll ever do is step into the ring for your very first sparring session.

    Depending on how long you’ve been training, who you’re stepping into the ring with, and how trustworthy your trainer is, your first experience in sparring may be vastly different than someone else’s, but there are several common factors that you are likely to encounter.

    First of all, your conditioning sucks.

    I have had to say this about myself at many stages of boxing, not just when I started sparring. It seems like every time I take things up a notch (going a lot of rounds in a row for the first time, sparring with a pro boxer, having my first real fight, shifting to a more competitive gym) I quickly find myself panting and heaving, wondering why on earth my conditioning is so bad when I thought it was so good.

    But nearly everyone who gets into the ring for their first time sparring finds — very quickly — that they simply aren’t in the kind of anaerobic sprint condition that a short little 3 minute round of boxing calls for. I promise this gets better as you spar more, and as you begin to do more sprints and intervals in your training.

    The urge for “flight” is really, really strong.

    The whole “fight or flight” system in your body is pretty serious, and when someone is throwing punches at you this will become very apparent in short order. Some of your biggest mistakes, which will be overcome with practice, will be that you tend to look away or shut your eyes when a shot comes straight for your face, you have an overwhelming tendency to flinch, and you may even turn your back on your sparring partner in the ring (that last one is a massive no-no, by the way; your trainer should stop the sparring session to tell you this if she or he sees you doing it).

    Your shots will be wild, and you may hurt someone.

    Brand new boxers are the absolute worst at controlling themselves in the ring. Typically a trainer will put very experienced boxers in with a newbie, because there’s a pretty good chance that the new person is scared, hasn’t had a chance to learn how to manage the adrenaline pumping through their body, and simply can’t know the difference yet between getting and giving good boxing practice versus surviving in the ring.

    All the nice footwork, pretty shots, and well-practiced combinations that you were able to do while working on the heavy bag just fly out the door when you step into the ring, leaving you swinging wildly and without much thought. Learning to think and plan under this kind of pressure takes time. It’ll come.

    Ideally, you want to get in the ring for the first time with your trainer, or another very good boxer who can evade your wild shots and help you find some calm in the storm as you learn.

    You’ll start thinking seriously about your gear.

    You never really need to put a lot of thought into your boxing gear until you start sparring. But this is where it becomes important. With a little preparation, you can avoid some of the newbie problems.

    Gloves: Any old gloves from the gym’s common supply will do for a beginner’s work on the heavy bag, but in the ring you should be wearing big, puffy 16oz gloves so that no one gets hurt. That’s what you’ll use in amateur competition, anyway. I used the gym gloves only once or twice before buying my own. I started with cheap gloves and moved up after those wore out about a year later.

    Wraps: You’ve probably figured out what works by the time you start sparring, but if you are over the age of 30, you may want extra protection, because your hands ache after boxing. I used to cut up a beer cozy and tape the foam strips across my knuckles under my wraps. Now I just wear gel gloves (like the MMA fighters use) rather than wraps. Wraps and gels can both be washed, too.

    Mouth guard: Fortunately, my trainer had been having our team train with mouth guards in for weeks prior to my first time in the ring, which meant I got over my gag reflex and also learned how to breathe comfortably with one in.

    Mouth guards are made for men, so unless you’re a guy your first mouth guard may not fit well. If the regular size is too big, try a youth size. I’ve bought and tossed several, and always go back to the Shock Doctor gel guards. I don’t like the double (upper and lower) guards, but I find the regular guard that covers just your top teeth is perfectly adequate.

    Get it in advance because it has to be boiled and formed to your teeth before sparring.

    Sparring HeadgearHeadgear: Common headgear problems have to do with fit: either it obscures your vision or slips around under fire. My first headgear was common gear from the gym’s pit, and it had a metal or plastic bar through the chin pad which gave me a monster bruise the first (and last) time I wore it. I bought a cheap $29 headgear from Dick’s Sporting Goods after that, and it served for a while even though it was very thin definitely not competition grade.

    If you can, buy only USA Boxing approved headgear. Be willing to send it back over and over again until you have a perfect fit. It should be tight when you’re cold, because once you start to sweat it has to stay in place.

    I’ve found the best kind of headgear has an adjustable lace top, velcro or lace-up back, and NO “Master’s” padding on the cheekbones.

    Shoes: I boxed for a year or so before investing in shoes. I bought wrestling shoes since they’re pretty much the same as boxing shoes. The advantage that boxing or wrestling shoes gives you is that they fit tighter and don’t cling to the canvas like running shoes. They help you make tiny, quick footwork moves. You can feel the canvas, pivot easily, and bounce lightly on your toes.

    Boxing or wrestling shoes have almost no padding or arch support, no matter what they advertise. They can’t be loaded down with it and still be light and flexible. So don’t wear them all the time, just for working in the ring.

    You may be ridiculously self-conscious.

    I was terribly nervous about my first time, and really wished I could suck in private, rather than embarrassing myself publicly for all the world to see. I didn’t blog about it, I didn’t allow photos of it, I tried not to let people know exactly when I was going to do it. But the day came and I had to get in and be every bit as terrible a boxer as I expected.

    Listen. Everybody starts here. And yes, people are going to watch and see and think what they think. The truth is that everyone who has boxed before will understand, and everyone who hasn’t boxed before will be so glad it’s you and not them, hah.

    You’ll come out feeling like a superhero.

    If you have the right kind of trainer and gym (and not one of those crappy places where they beat you up in order to feel like they are bad ass and way cooler than you’ll ever be), you will be so grateful to have survived without weeping, puking, or dying! Your brain will be firing all kinds of crazy messages like

    • “Did I really just do that??”
    • “Damn, I rock!”
    • “Wow, my conditioning sucks.”
    • “Damn, I rock!”
    • “I am so glad I didn’t puke!”
    • “I really did do it, didn’t I??”

    In fact it was a post by a friend of mine (and regular TGE commentor) Amy, who got me thinking about this again. You definitely need to read her thoughts on her first time sparring.

    The next day, say hello to your sparring hangover!

    It’s not unusual to be pretty worn out and have a headache the day after you spar. I typically don’t do serious sparring more than once a week because it’s fairly hard on the body, especially if you are working 8 or 10 hard rounds (which you can work up to, but shouldn’t be doing right off the bat). Ibuprofen should take care of most of your head and body aches.

    You may have other, more specific pains. The first time I sparred I threw a slew of hard rights that didn’t land, hyper-extending my right elbow pretty painfully. For that I needed a big, flexible icepack, which for me was a bag of frozen peas. I later invested in two good icepacks, so I could use one while the other re-froze.

    In my opinion, regular hard training hurts more than sparring.

    You rock. You really do rock! Now go do it again.

    You’ve done something most people would never dare try. Once you’ve cleared that first monster hurdle, you need to do it again. It was terrifying, but you didn’t let that stop you. Now don’t let the long road to getting good in the boxing ring intimidate you. Most new boxers bail out of sparring sessions now and then, especially after a particularly bad sparring session; the fear factor is pretty high for quite a while, and maybe it never goes away entirely. I’ve been boxing for several years and I still get serious jitters.

    Don’t let that stop you. You have accomplished a pretty incredible thing. Keep building on your success!

    Superhero image by Gomez-C on Flickr; the rest are (of me on a sparring night) by Ken Hall Photography

  • I Got My First Boxing Trophy

    I Got My First Boxing Trophy

    I now have my first boxing trophy and it’s purple. Yesterday it was reddish purple, but it’s trending darker today and headed to black, I suppose, then the normal green and yellow. I’m feeling all Fight Club. I’ve been tilting my chin up and doing show and tell with my “I’ve been eating uppercuts” bruise for anyone who will listen; I don’t know why I’m so proud, but I am. Probably because I blocked more uppercuts than I took on the chin. You gotta let somebody throw ’em before you can learn to block ’em.

    This was about my fifth time in the ring, and I’m finally — finally! — beginning to understand a few things. I blocked a significant number of punches, for the first time seeing that you don’t have to swat or shove a jab away (which takes too much energy) but simply catch or capture it with or between your gloves. I’m also learning to keep my right glove higher and my right elbow tucked in to my ribs against Bonnie’s wicked double left hook. In fact, several times I defended against that fast and nasty punch and countered with a left jab of my own, and I felt like cheering every time. I did shout and dance a little at the end of the second round. Before she took me to the shed for a serious whuppin.

    Here’s how my ringtime — during which I earned my trophy, yay! — went.

    Anticipating the jabs
    My first round I’m feeling great; light on my feet even though I just trained hard for the hour previous. This time I don’t even feel the nerves, I’m just ready to get to it. So we go in, she’s easy on me, we’re both seeing what the other has in store today. After a minute or so I’m suddenly aware that I am anticipating and therefore blocking some of her punches!

    I stop right in the middle, put my hands on my hips and demand, “Are you ‘letting’ me see, or can I just… see these coming??” She gives the kind (and possibly truthful) answer that I’m starting to get a feel for being in the ring. I let out a “Hollaaa!” and drop back into my stance, feeling all bouncy and grinning like an idiot.

    And I eat a few punches ’cause I’m too busy celebrating and not paying attention. My trophy is being constructed. I settle in and she throws a dozen in quick succession and I get better at blocking them. Some of them. These are jabs, though, not her meanest punch. By the final bell I’m pretty full of myself.

    From flight to fight, thinking ability returning
    The next round I have combos in my head for the first time ever. I’m amazed for the second time in six minutes! Up until now I’ve been so overwhelmed in the ring that I just can’t think. It’s been all I could do to… well, to be blunt, to not run away. I know it sounds funny but there it is.

    You’ve heard of fight or flight? It’s true. And my “flight” siren seems to get tripped far more than my “fight” indicator. So one of my major battles in the ring has been to toggle that switch over to the other side. And today I’m not only blocking punches (and not running away) but I have combos in my head and can throw them!

    I spend enough time marveling over this minor miracle that I eat more yummy punches. This is gonna be a great trophy when it gets here.

    Surviving
    The third round is the kicker. Between bells Bonnie waves me over. School is in session, she says, and it’s time to Bring It. She tells me to not hold back, to throw what I have, that we’re gonna do this thing. I’m breathing hard but still excited. That only lasts for another minute.

    I don’t know it yet, but I’m about to wish I had an oxygen mask and an ice pack. And possibly a bucket to puke in. Trophy time, coming right up!

    It’s just amazing how hard you can work in three teensy minutes. I mainly remember the sound of her punches, the way the air hisses between her teeth when she gets rolling. I move quickly from attack mode to defend mode to please-God-let-the-bell-ring mode.

    In boxing there’s a warning bell 30 seconds before the round actually ends. It can either be a signal for your final sprint, or it can make you think that if you had enough air you could break into great heaving sobs. You might be able to guess which it is for me.

    Once, only once, Bonnie gives me an out: “You okay?” she asks, no hint of a grin on her face. “Come on,” I tell her, like Rocky to Apollo Creed in the twelfth.

    I make it, crawl out of the ring, wrench off my headgear and spit out my mouthguard. The single imperative of my body is to breathe. Oxygen is wonderful. I don’t even feel the purple spread of the trophy bruise on my chin.

    I can hardly wait to do it again.

    *************************

    Note, added later: The next time I donned headgear to spar again I realized that the real reason I had a massive bruise on my chin was because the headgear itself has a metal or plastic bar through the chin piece. Sucky, nasty, thing! As soon as I took my first good hit I felt that bar bang against my chin bone, and I realized that even though I ended up with a nasty bruise before, it wasn’t necessarily due to uppercuts, but really any shot that landed to that headgear. I don’t wear that headgear any more. (I still get bruised, but they’re different bruises!)

    *************************

    Image by balt-arts on Flickr.