The Glowing Edge

Tag: firsts

  • Two Things You Want in a Sparring Partner

    Two Things You Want in a Sparring Partner

    The transition from the floor of the gym to the boxing ring can be a bitch. When you’re new, you can barely tell a jab from a cross; the prospect of live sparring feels like being dropped into a pit with Jabba the Hutt’s Rancor (pictured above, nomming someone’s arm).

    So how the hell do you know what to ask for or expect in a sparring partner? Well, you ask someone who’s been doing it a while. I’ll tell you my experience with it, and then you can ask someone else. Find your tribe and they’ll help you get through this.

    Okay, me first. I won’t lie to you: getting started sparring can be pretty miserable. (more…)

  • First Time Sparring: Last Minute Advice

    First Time Sparring: Last Minute Advice

    You’ve done your heavy bag work, your partner drills, pads, and roadwork. Now you’re getting your chance in the boxing ring. It’s going to be your first time sparring and when you’re not thinking about puking, you’re stoked.

    And a thousand questions are running through your head. How hard should you hit? How many rounds can you go? Will you suck? Will you embarrass yourself? Will all your hard training pay off? Will you be able to take a hit and keep going?

    Congrats on a huge milestone in your training. Sparring is the holy grail of boxing; it’s even better than a fight, since you get to do so much more of it. Here are a couple of articles I’ve already written that may be useful to you:

    What You Should Know Before You Spar

    What to Expect the First Time You Spar in Boxing

    So. Last minute words of advice? You bet.

    1. It’s not about how hard you punch.

    Remember, if you hurt your sparring partner, you don’t have a sparring partner any more. First time boxers tend to let their fear power their shots; do what you can to calm yourself before ringtime so that you don’t drain your energy with nerves and so that you don’t throw hard and wild.

    2. Gloves up, chin down, elbows in. Keep a jab going.

    If you can do nothing else, do these four things. The first three keep you from getting hurt, and the jab should keep you working on some kind of offense. Jabs and straight rights are enough for your first time sparring. Don’t sweat it if that’s all you can remember to do.

    If you can remember all this and still have room to think and work, then keep your head and feet moving so you don’t eat every punch that’s thrown. (But that’s advanced.)

    3. Tell your partner it’s your first time sparring.

    Your trainer should let you go in with someone much more experienced than you, so that your partner can evade your wild stuff and bring the game to your level so you can get good work.

    Unfortunately, not all gyms are so careful. In that case, here’s what you do…

    4. Set the bar — go in punching with about half your power.

    That should elicit a response that is at about the same level.

    If your partner ignores your “bar” — i.e., the level of power you’ve set — then you can either tell them to turn down their heat OR you simply return the power. Careful here, this is how inexperienced people get hurt.

    5. Decide how many rounds you’ll go in advance.

    If you regularly train on the heavy bag and have no problem making it through six rounds in a row, you can most likely make 3 decent rounds in the ring.

    If you’ve been doing Tabata workouts (I like mine with 40 seconds of ultra-intense exercise — like a sprint — with 20 seconds of rest, 4 times in a row) three times a week, you’ll have the sprint capacity you’ll need for 3 rounds.

    Some people say if you can run a 5k in less than 30 minutes you’ll be able to go 3 rounds — NOT the case at all!

    What you need is anaerobic conditioning, not aerobic conditioning. This means your body has to perform without enough oxygen. So measure yourself with sprints or hard 3 minute rounds of any exercise where you go all out, then recover 30 seconds, then go all out again.

    For your first time sparring, don’t go over your round limit because you’ll be boxing exhausted and you are more likely to get injured.

     6. Be willing to roll out after one or two rounds, if needed.

    Be friendly, thank your opponent, but avoid injury! Injuries suck, because they keep you out of the ring. Ring time is the holy grail! And you can always wait out a few rounds and roll back in.

    7. Pace yourself.

    If you come out guns blazing, you aren’t going to make it to the end of your first round. If you throw several flurries in a row, you’re gonna get gassed.

    Throw singles, doubles, flurries (if you can), and intersperse them with some defense and good footwork. This is really important because you don’t yet have a sense of how much energy sparring will suck out of you.

    Later (not your first time sparring!) when you’re practicing, include 30 second sprints at the end of every round. My current sparring partner and I go toe-to-toe for inside fighting at the 30-second bell at the end of every round. This helps us build capacity for 30 seconds worth of flurry work. You can also do it in shadow boxing or bag work by using the last 30 seconds of every round for one-two punching as fast as you can until the bell rings. Killer.

     8. Fight till the bell rings.

    This is crucial. You really do want to try and make it to the bell, no matter what. Train that way, think that way, fight that way. This is the sport we’re in, and finishing the round is a major indicator of your ability to make it in the sport. Unless you have an injury, fight till the bell rings.

    9. Final word: It’s normal to be afraid. Fight anyway.

    Everybody’s scared. I’ve been doing this for years and I still get gut churn when I’m sparring with someone new. It doesn’t take a hero to fight when you’re not scared; the real champion is somebody who will be terrified but roll under those ropes and get to work anyway.

     Congrats on your first time sparring! I hope you’ll report back here (or email me at Lisa [at] The Glowing Edge [dot] com) and let me know how it goes for you, whether any of this advice was useful, and what lessons and advice you have to share as well.

    And a huge thanks goes out to Michael Smith, a new boxer who emailed me to let me know he was about to have his first sparring session and got me started thinking about this again. Be sure to check out his boxing blog over at The Road to Pugilism. Kick ass, Michael!

    Creative Commons image by Fabio Macòr on Flickr

  • Alicia “Slick” Ashley to Headline “Brooklyn Explosion” Fight Card

    Alicia “Slick” Ashley to Headline “Brooklyn Explosion” Fight Card

    On January 19, 2011 (delayed from the original date of the 13th, due to inclement weather), one of boxing’s top bantamweights Alicia “Slick” Ashley, will battle 8 rounds with Crystal Hoy in Maureen Shea’s “Brooklyn Explosion,” to become the first female to headline a boxing main event ever in New York city.

    NABF featherweight titleholder Maureen “Moe” Shea (15-2) is known to many boxing fans for preparing Oscar winner Hilary Swank for her role in “Million Dollar Baby.” Shea — a former sparring and training partner for Alicia Ashley — is now adding yet another accomplishment to her list: the first active female boxer who is a promoter. It just makes sense that Shea would bring Ashley to the top of an NYC boxing card.

    Jamaican-born Ashley (15-9-1, 1 KO) will take on Crystal Hoy (5-3-3, 2 KO) for 8 rounds, and you can expect this battle to blind you with speed and smooth, fast power. There’s a good reason Alicia’s ring name is “Slick.” She moves like magic in the ring; one minute here, and the next minute gone; she is incredibly light on her feet and agile with her hands and body. You’ll often see her forcing her opponents to chase her around the ring; Ashley dances effortlessly, gloves down, appearing not to be making any effort at all until she slips inside with the power punches, then disappears.

    You can get an idea of what I mean by watching just a little of this fight (not nearly her best showing, but a quick example) with southpaw Elena Reid. (Scroll the clip forward to get the fourth round started.)

    And Ashley has traveled all over the globe to get her fights; it feels right and good to have her fighting at home in Brooklyn; I hope this will bring more attention to the phenomenal female fighters in the City — I say let all the rest of the contenders come to her!

    I’m not sure if there are any tickets left for “Brooklyn Explosion,” but you can get more information about tickets by contacting Amanda at Global Boxing Gym in North Bergen, NJ at 201.348.3149.

  • Cristiane ‘Cyborg’ Santos Might Pose for Playboy

    Cristiane ‘Cyborg’ Santos Might Pose for Playboy

    Cris Cyborg Santos is an incredible MMA fighter who replaced Gina Carano as the top woman in the cage in ’09. Now she will defend her title against the very skilled Marloes Coenen in a Strikeforce fight scheduled for January 30th. This fight is expected to once again catapult women’s fight sports — and MMA in particular — to the forefront of the nation’s attention.

    And now Sherdog reports that Cyborg is considering posing for Playboy.

    Ugh, I hate this.

    Women’s fight sports have had an uphill battle on their hands to gain any kind of serious and official attention in the past 20 years. Women boxers have only had official sanction since the 90’s (and just this year gained admittance to the 2012 Olympics and celebrated the first woman ever inducted to the Boxing Hall of Fame), and female MMA fighters as well as boxers have struggled mightily against the sexist, misogynistic influence of fight sport leaders like Dana White.

    While posing naked for Playboy will certainly bring media attention to women’s fight sports, it brings the wrong kind of attention.

    We don’t need for the top women fighters in the world to be thought of primarily as objects of sexual fantasy; this makes it just that much easier to dismiss them as minor players — trivial creatures rather than real women who have spent years of hard work and discipline on their sport.

    What would be better is more promoters ready to put women on their fight cards, more media outlets ready and willing to cover and broadcast women’s fights (thank you, Showtime), and more event hosts who enable fans to create and share their own media (I HATE the no photos, no video policies at so many fights).

    Cyborg: For the sake of women fighters everywhere, please, please say “No” to Playboy. And keep kicking ass in the cage. You are an incredible fighter, and that’s how the world should know and remember you.

  • Blood and Uppercuts

    Blood and Uppercuts

    Last week I was in the ring with one of my trainers, Nassir, who will be making his pro boxing debut in the next month or so. Nas is blazingly fast and uses his considerable hand and foot speed as not only a physical but also a mental advantage over his opponents. Boxing with him can very quickly leave you with that upsetting “what in the hell just hit me?” feeling.

    As I rolled under the ropes for our sparring session I noticed that Nas was not wearing a mouthpiece or headgear. Pros fight their official matches with mouthguards but no head protection, although most everyone spars with complete gear. He caught my questioning look and told me that he wasn’t going to gear up, but that I was still to box with my full power. He didn’t say anything as crass as “You’ll never land a thing on me,” but I grinned, and readied myself for a couple of hyperextended elbows: I knew he was going to show me the speed demon footwork. He was gonna make me work for the goods.

    And the bell rang, and we were off. I saw my main trainer standing ringside with her arms crossed; she’s pretty strict about headgear in our gym but was willing to let this one ride for a bit.

    Nas kept himself primarily on defense (he didn’t throw many punches), and restricted me to jabs only for the first round; he’s been helping me extend my punches to my full reach, and by forcing me to shoot the same left hand over and over I would eventually begin to burn in the muscle memory. This simple restriction also meant I could stop worrying about what shots were open or what combinations to work so that I could concentrate on my foot speed. I knew I’d have to run him down to land any shots.

    It felt like a magic combination. My job was clear: shoot that jab like a machine gun and move my feet as quickly as I possibly could. Step, slide, pivot, double step, slip inside, whatever I had to do in order to land my jabs.

    And midway through the first round, they began to land with some consistency. I felt a thrill of energy running up in me, and by the second round I was adding a periodic straight right to the jab just to help maintain my balance. Nas gave me the nod when the power hand began to land. “That’s the kind of extension I want to see,” he grunted, darting out of reach again.

    I began to feel a new, sweet ache running up my left arm that told me I was burning the shot in; these were muscles I hadn’t been using correctly before and it felt painful and fantastic all at the same time. To save my aching arm I began adding hooks by the third round.

    And I began to see something very juicy. Nas was repeatedly leaving himself open for an uppercut.

    The four punches (left jab, straight right, left hook, right hook) I was throwing are the bread and butter of most amateur boxers. The last two standards are the left and right uppercut, and are the hardest to land with strength and power. You have to be in close, see an opening in your opponent’s guard, and react incredibly quickly. It’s a bit like standing by the railroad tracks and trying to pitch a strike through the open window of a speeding train as it passes you by.

    I would see the opening, but not be close enough in or fast enough to try it on him. At the end of round three I said as much to Bonnie, watching ringside.

    “I see that uppercut, I swear he’s teasing me with it,” I panted. “But I can’t get it in there. He’s too fast.”

    My trainer raised her eyebrows at me. “You’re not ever gonna land an uppercut if you don’t start throwing some,” she commented dryly.

    She was right, I wasn’t even trying for them. I ground my teeth in frustration and desire. The bell for round four was about to sound. I was gonna pitch every fastball I could muster at that train and if all I had to show for it was busted windows, well then at least I was pitching.

    I pulled back to jabs to free my mind and kept my foot speed up. Nas swung down in front of me, swatting me now and then with a hook. Every time he ducked low I shot the uppercut, but nothing connected.

    His guard was wide, too wide. I could easily fit my glove through that pipe he was showing me, I just had to stick to him like a burr and throw till I got it.

    And damned if I didn’t get me one.

    The instant I felt it land — solid leather to his face — I whooped with delight and leapt about the ring like a kid who has unexpectedly gotten her first win by knockout. I pumped both gloves in the air and yelled around my mouth guard, “I got it! I got it!”

    Bonnie was working to keep from smiling, but I turned and saw Nas shaking his head and grinning. He slapped my glove in congratulation. “You got it,” he agreed, “now get back to work.

    I bounced up and down a few times on the canvas; my tired legs were suddenly made of springs. I whacked my gloves together, gave Nas a glovetap and returned to my stance.

    Which is when I saw the blood staining his teeth, and running into his mouth.

    I whooped again, then my inner nice girl reigned it in. “Uh, Coach, you’re bleeding,” I mentioned, and tried not to cheer out loud. I had not only landed the uppercut on the fastest man alive, but I’d made him bleed!

    Looking ringside to see who was watching, I pounded my gloves on my chest like Godzilla. Me, I was banging. That was me.

    Bonnie gave Nas a quick glance then crossed her arms again. “I told you to gear up,” she said, with only the barest hint of a smile.

    Image by anarchosyn

  • Lucia Rijker in the World Boxing Hall of Fame


    On Friday, October 24th, 2009 undefeated boxer Lucia Rijker (17-0, 14 KOs) became the first female inducted into the World Boxing Hall of Fame. The WBHF is the smaller of the two recognized boxing halls of fame, the other being the International Boxing Hall of Fame.

    Binnie Klein of WPKN interviewed Rijker before her induction. It’s definitely worth your time to click through to hear this; it isn’t often that we get a chance to hear from one of the great women boxers of our time.

    Rijker’s boxing style scares the crap out of me. She stalks her opponents then strikes like a sledgehammer; wicked nasty. I mean, look at that video. Rijker hardly even uses her guard, she just slips the punches and delivers her cargo, 922 pounds of deadly force.

    I recently spoke with my trainer about why Lucia Rijker is the first woman inducted into the Boxing Hall of Fame, and she reminded me that women’s boxing has only been officially recognized since the 1990’s, and boxers have to be retired for five years before they may be inducted.

    Which is rather amazing in itself on a number of levels. Women have been boxing for nearly as long as men have, but the fact that their achievements in the sport were either supressed or considered illegal means that there was also no official recognition for them.

    Thank you, Lucia Rijker and World Boxing Hall of Fame. May the changes continue to roll down like mighty waters.

  • I’m Learning to Box

    It sounded good at the time, anyway. This summer I decided to shift away from running as my main aerobic exercise since I felt like I was always complaining about how many miles I wasn’t able to do. My right knee has that distinctive Rice Krispies sound that tells me I may have to schedule a doctor’s visit in a few years and I probably won’t like what I hear when I do it. So, in classic avoidance technique I decided I should shift to boxing. Me smart.

    Me hurt now.

    After a month of anticipation, phone calls, and research (I watched Rocky and browsed fashionable boxing accessories), I had my first boxing class today.

    Apparently boxing is like church: no one arrives until after everything begins. But I was there, and after the instructor helped me wrap my hands, he tossed me a pair of gloves, put me front and center and we were off and running. People drifted in while he put us through a basic full-body callisthenic routine, and once we began punching combinations on the heavy bags the serious sweat began to flow.

    The words “speed rounds” may give me nightmares tonight. I kept my feet moving (boxing is more like running than I knew) and my hands up (mostly). Who knew two 14 oz. gloves could weigh as much as anvils? Or — and let me say this is the worst part of boxing so far, worse even than the pain I feel right now before the aspirin kicks in — stink so horribly?? Next order of business: get my own gloves. Which I’m sure will always emit the fragrance of fresh and dewy roses.

    Speaking of roses, I was the only woman in my class today. And it could be that I wasn’t dressed appropriately, but I won’t know that until I see what other women wear. The standard outfit I saw on the guys consisted of ginormous baggy shorts, skull motif tee shirts, and ragged sneakers. Scruffy is presumably the way to go, and my trim aerobics shorts and cheery sport tank were decidedly out of place. Also, today I noticed that I’m really tall. Everyone else is crouched down, hunched into their punching bags. I move less like Muhommad Ali and more like Gumby. Maybe later I’ll get the gist of that “float like a butterfly” thing.

    Overall, I kept up. I was in better aerobic shape than most of the guys there, although I’m sure my punches are about as hard as room temperature butter, and I just laughed and laid on the floor when the instructor called for (and snapped off) fifty push-ups during the “cool down.” Riiiight.

    My shoulders, upper back, and neck are all crying for a three-day vacation in Maui with complimentary Mai Tai’s now, but I’m mentally psyched, and I find myself saying “Yo, Adrian!” when I see someone in the hall. I’ll let you know how it goes.