The Glowing Edge

Tag: intervals

  • When Sparring is Magic

    When Sparring is Magic

    I can’t remember when I last had one of these days, but this week it all came back to me in one of those clear, beautiful, pristine experiences of pure sparring magic.

    Sparring is always hard boxing work. It’s actually much more pleasurable than having a fight in many ways — less stress, less endless waiting, more actual time in the ring, and you often learn more as well.

    But in the sporadic sparring experiences I’ve had in the past 6 months or so, I haven’t had one of these surreal days in the ring where everything came together like magic. This week they clicked.

    Coach Massey was training a team of people in a different gym, and I wanted to get up there to see Eric, a friend of mine, who recently started competing. I also hoped to get some new and different work — working in a new gym with new people is a great way to shake up your training routine and test yourself. I hate it, and love it at the same time.

    The dread that comes before

    I woke up with the dread churning in my stomach. What if I suck? What if I humiliate myself? Have I been training hard enough? I have to stop slacking on my intervals. Etcetera. I forced down some bran flakes for breakfast and had a banana an hour or so later. I hydrated constantly. I stopped periodically during my morning to get mentally centered, rolling the tension out of my neck and reminding myself to relax.

    And of course I took a wrong turn on the freeway and was abysmally late. Ugh.

    But the moment I walked in, Coach Massey hailed me from ringside, and I immediately saw my friend Eric shadowboxing in the back. The place was filled with sunshine (unlike every other gym I’ve trained in recently) and the doors were propped open for the breeze. A former trainer of mine was working hard in the ring with a man holding pads and wearing a heavy punching vest; both of them glistened with sweat.

    A pleasant surprise

    And get this: two women were geared up and waiting to roll under the ropes next.

    Two women! Both about my size. About to spar! In case you’re missing the import of this, let me assure you that this is unprecedented where I live. I rarely have the chance to train with one woman, and two is somewhat mind-boggling. I watched them for a moment and realized I was going to get a chance to get good work in — both of these awesome women were paying attention, working hard, and neither seemed out for war or bloodshed. This wasn’t going to be an ego session; it was going to be honest boxing labor.

    I was so excited I could barely stand to warm up. I gave Eric a hug and put in a halfhearted round or two of stretching and shadowboxing before I eagerly geared up and stood ringside, waiting for my chance.

    Do women box differently than men?

    Just this week I had been having an email conversation with Adam Welsh (you’ve heard from him before here on TGE) about a comment pro boxer Anne-Sophie Mathis made recently about preferring to spar with men, because in her experience, “men are much more technical, their body language is more beautiful. The girls are certainly more vicious and aggressive, but they lack a little consistency…”

    I’d been turning this thought over and over again in my head. ARE women more aggressive in the ring? If we are, it’s because we know that we have to fight twice as hard to be taken half as seriously. Or at least, that’s my feeling. But I hesitate to paint with so broad a brush, and say that all women are like this…

    But I was ready to say that I preferred male sparring partners, too. Not for the reasons Mathis states, but because I’m more used to them, and they don’t seem to need to prove anything with me (most of the time). There’s not much respect to be gained by a male boxer from beating the crap out of a woman — but if she brings game, there can be a good sparring session for both partners.

    But yesterday I changed my mind.

    Both these women were so good to work with. Christy was — amazingly — a new Master’s fighter. I’m not sure I can name even ONE other female Masters boxer in North Carolina. My opponents are always out of state. Christy and I were exactly the same weight and height. This NEVER happens!

    The second boxer, Erica, was perhaps in her early 20s, and had just won the Golden Gloves. A bit lighter than me, but same height.

    I would work with both of these women any day of the week, any time. They gave good game, and I know I drew great pleasure out of our work and got some good stuff in.

    Burning off the edge

    First Coach Massey put me in with Nassir, a former trainer of mine, and he effectively warmed me up and burned off my nervous edge, although it’s hard to box with him because he’s so fast. He can stand in the middle of the ring and never move his feet and you still can’t seem to nail him with a solid punch. If you give him his feet, just hang up your gloves and go home; you don’t stand a chance of landing anything.

    If I had to name his weakness it would be that he depends so much on his hyper-speed that he punches less than he probably should. But I wouldn’t be idiot enough to tell him that while I was in the ring with him.

    Next I had rounds with each of the women, and suddenly the pace was slower and I could see everything that was happening (which I can’t do with Nassir).

     The step-off

    You know how boxers have a little switch-foot stutter step thing they often do in the ring? They’re in their stance, right foot and shoulder forward and left foot back. Then suddenly, they switch stance (left foot and shoulder forward) and step off? Easy, right? Yeah, everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face. My sparring partner Sinclair was working with me on this move a few weeks ago. And it was just not happening unless I expended superhuman effort.

    In the ring with these women, it suddenly was there for me. I didn’t have to think about it, it was just magic. My brain worked on other things and my feet did the step off at the right moments entirely without my input. It was beautiful.

    Coach Massey saw the first one and whooped. I had no idea what he was excited about. I could feel the glide, the move, the pure lack of effort, but I didn’t know he was watching my feet. Both of us paused in our round and looked at him.

    “Lisa pullin’ the step-off!” he hollered, and I grinned, taking full credit even though I’d had no part in it.

    Boxing is so like this. You work your ass off on something and NEVER get it right for AGES, then suddenly, it’s burned into your muscle memory and it comes together. Magic.

    If you do it once, it’s a fluke. But I was doing it regularly, every round, with just the right timing.

    What the hell? But I wasn’t complaining.

    It made me feel great that Coach called over another boxer and instructed her to watch my feet to see how I was doing it. It’s just a good thing I didn’t have to explain it, because I have no idea how it got there, hah. I probably couldn’t have done it on command.

    The slip

    This was another muscle memory move that came together nicely, but this one happened because I wasn’t in with Nassir or Sinclair, or any of the regular guys I fight with who are blazing-fast. I was in with women closer to my own experience level, and I could Flat. See. And evade. Damn near everything.

    Thank you, Baby Jesus and all those hours spent eating punches while struggling to overcome the hop back, flinch, blink, and turn away reflexes. It was worth every sweaty hour of that work. I was ducking under (!) slipping side to side, and keeping just inches out of range.

    I did notice that I tend to slip right more commonly than left, but NEVER have I slipped so many punches that I noticed such a thing before!

    Ahh, I love the magic.

    The fuel

    The last good piece about this awesomely awesome sparring experience was that I didn’t gas out. I had the fuel I needed to do what I was asked to do. Gotta tell you, I CURSE those intervals when I’m running steps, but I am SO glad I suffered through them when I perform well in the ring.

    Your heart just needs that kind of hard training in intense, 3-minute bursts with 30 second recoveries in order to be able to show any kind of chops in the ring.

    I hate intervals, but I’ll tell you now, I’m a believer.

    And I’ll keep doing them.

    Meanwhile, I’ll be curious to see if my next sparring experience goes as well as this one did. Can’t wait to work with Christy and Erica again! Ladies, I salute you; you were gutsy, beautiful, and I enjoyed every second of our work together…

    Stay strong everyone, and if you’re struggling and wondering if it will EVER come together — it will! Promise.

  • Transitioning

    Transitioning

    I’ve been offline, trying to catch my breath between wave sets and wipeouts.

    The turbulence of job shifts (I’m now working from home rather than from an office in another city), training shifts (my trainer moved out of state, my fight is coming up in April), and other big and small events and financial re-arrangements have significantly changed the shape of my days for the past month, and I’m working to discern how I will fit into my own life for the next bit of the future.

    Out of necessity I withdrew from nearly all of my social hubs and just tried to hang on. Now the first and biggest wave of the set has passed (that was the biggest one, right?), and I’ve wiped out but I’m upright, catching my breath and trying to figure out how to meet the next one, which I can already see coming. Hell, I can see ten of ’em from here.

    I’m in transition, I know this feeling.

    In boxing, we work to get good at transitions. The entire purpose of training with intervals, for example, is to get good at physically working hard (sprinting, punching, etc.) for a 3 minute period, then to recover well in 30 seconds or a minute in order to work extremely hard for another 3 minute space. During that recovery time you mentally shift into neutral and try to convince your body to slow down. Deep breaths, hands in the air if you have a stitch, slowing down the heart rate as much as possible. Standing straight, never bending double with hands on your knees. Straight and tall, breathing, looking forward.

    I’ve rarely been aware of much outside my boxing corner during the periods between rounds. I don’t hear the perpetual thump of hip-hop over the sound system, the rapid-fire gunning of the speed bag, the shot calls of other trainers in the gym, or the thwack of leather meeting leather on the heavy bags. All those external stimuli are drowned out in the deafening roar of my blood and the heavy buzz of focus that narrows your vision to a 20×20 square of dirty canvas and the ropes that give it boundaries.

    The one thing I can hear — and in fact what I am listening for — is a corner.

    During the period between rounds, your corner is telling you that you performed well, that you can breathe, that you are okay. You stake everything on believing them.

    After a few seconds your corner begins to set your course for the next interval. She outlines a strategy, notes what strengths you should employ, and points out the lapses in your opponent’s style or form and how you can take advantage of them. And in all of this, more than anything else, your corner communicates that she believes in you. I know few powers on earth more significant than that one.

    When you are in transition, you need someone to believe in you.

    Someone to remind you of the many things you already know, to point out the skills you have worked so hard to build, and the goals that brought you to this point.

    As I write this I am one week into training for my next fight, without the trainer I’ve loved, learned from, and counted on for the past two years . Her life has undergone a series of changes as well, and now she’s in New York launching her next big thing.

    I’m sporting a black eye just turning to green and nursing a severely strained shoulder. My normal training schedule is completely wonked because I’m no longer at my office, no longer enjoying the work perk of a fitness gym one block from our building. I’ve missed two weight sessions and am looking at a week of restricted activity because of this injury.

    I can feel myself thinking, “Well, you aren’t off to a great start, are you?” I took my first round hard, and am having a hard time figuring out how to get through the next.

    Listening for the voice of a corner.

    And there has been a new voice — entirely unexpected, but there nonetheless.

    When I called Terri “The Boss” Moss, promoter of the upcoming Atlanta Corporate Fight Night, to let her know my job had changed, my trainer had moved, and I’d been injured and might have trouble getting ready for my fight, I was expecting her to be polite as always, but privately frustrated and annoyed. After all, she has a lot riding on this event, a thousand details to oversee, and lots of boxers to coach.

    What I got was a corner. The voice of an experienced boxer, a woman who knows how training can go awry, who understands the position I am finding myself in, and who immediately began the litany of “You’re doing fine. Breathe. Here’s what I want you to do.” It looks like I may be driving down to Atlanta for some serious corner time.

    I have to say this about the women boxers I have met during this strange and beautiful journey: you are the most incredible women I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine how I would have made it without you. Thank you for the hard training, the indefatigable spirit, and most of all, the graceful cornering.

    Here’s to the next round.

    Image by akeg on Flickr.

  • Overcoming Reluctance to Train

    Overcoming Reluctance to Train

    You might think that I wouldn’t have any trouble overcoming the “I don’t want to work out today” blues, as much as I train. You’d be wrong. For me it happens about once a week.

    However, I’ve been doing it long enough to have developed a few tricks to deal with my periodic reluctance to train or go get my workout done.

    1. Set a goal you can keep

    This is where it all begins. If you work out I’m guessing you have a goal in mind, even if you haven’t put it into words very clearly yet. Do that. Put it into words. Why are you packing up all your crap and heading to the gym every week? Be able to name your answer every time that question shoves its way to the forefront of your reluctant-feeling brain.

    Oh, and make it a goal you can actually achieve. My main training goal is to be in the gym three times every single week. I set it there because I know I can do that, and more. So when I actually train four times a week (which is nearly every week), I feel like I’m going a step above. I’m a rockstar.

    2. Keep your gear always packed, always in the car.

    I can work out any day of the week at any time, because I always have my gym bag packed and ready. Every time I get back from the gym I carry out the sweaty stinky stuff and go put the clean stuff in, ready for next time. There’s also a non-melty power bar of some sort in there, so that I don’t have the “I’m famished” excuse.

    Probably the nicest side-benefit of this is that I can stop at any cool new park or trailhead I happen to discover, pop the trunk, change shoes, and I’m off. Not my regular workout, but a fabulous addition which really lifts my spirits.

    3. Know your biggest excuses, and defuse them in advance.

    My biggest excuse for not training used to be the fact that I hate taking a shower in a crappy gym. The way I defused it was by visiting my all-time favorite luxury bath goods store (Hello, Lush!) and stocking up on the best soaps, shampoos, and other fragrant treats. I put them in my gym bag, and poof! Suddenly I’m looking forward to my shower.

    Now my go-to excuse is “I don’t feel like going.” For this one I offer “discounts.” Rather than my regular 30 minute cardio sprints session, I tell myself I can simply run easy for 30 minutes. Or something similar. Generally what happens is that I get to the gym, get started, and my spirits improve! I find myself rising to the bar, even though I’ve told myself I can take it easy.

    4. Give yourself incentives.

    Once in a while I promise myself one of my favorite post-training treats: a berry smoothie. These babies are better than fried donuts at the fair, in my estimation. One cup of frozen raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries, a scoop of protein powder, a scoop of creatine (on weightlifting days), and a splash of orange juice. If I have plain yogurt, I’ll throw that in too. This is my version of the Scooby Snack, and I will pretty much walk over hot coals to get it. Can you say Incentive Program?

    Another way my husband helps is by offering to meet me after my hardest boxing nights and take me out for a drink. I adore him for this, I truly do! A man and a martini can very nearly heal the world and bring about world peace in my universe.

    5. Keep it interesting.

    If I had to run on a treadmill for 30 minutes I would probably expire from misery. But tell me I have to throw sprints on jump rope for 10 minutes, do spin bike hard for 10 minutes, row for 5 minutes, and run stairs or do box jumps for 5 minutes and I’m all over it. Ta-daa! There’s your 30 minute cardio.

    6. Shorten that damn thing!

    Here’s the deal. Most of you are spending too much time in the gym. This is because you’re slouching around, watching television, trying to avoid the next set, or simply moving too damn slow. If you put some intensity into your workout you don’t need to be there for three hours. Or even two hours. Hell, you can be trained, changed, and outta there inside of an hour if you work it just right.

    Dump your endless, boring, low-level cardio jog for a series of hard sprints and recoveries in whatever thing you do — run, bike, swim, row, heavy bag, etc. You can even incorporate skipping, jumping, ladder drills or agility dot drills. Whatever it is, do it in intervals and do it hard. Recover for 30 seconds or a minute from each hard interval, and start the next one.

    Get a solid 30 minutes in and move on. Studies show that this method actually burns more calories (if that’s what you’re trying to do) than the death-by-treadmill stuff anyway. (Google Tabata workouts and read up on it if you like. Or just ask any boxer in the world.)

    7. Don’t train hard all the time.

    When I have a fight I’m training for I ramp up my workouts 7 weeks in advance. Afterward, I take it easy — I don’t ditch my training, I just relax the pace. I’m not a machine, I’m a human, and I allow myself to enjoy the ebb and flow of a healthy life.

    Nobody stays in peak condition 100% of the time, nor should they. Maintain a solid baseline, and jack it up for the important stuff. That’s what makes staying healthy sustainable.

    What are your tricks to beating the “I don’t want to work out” blues?

    Leave me a comment and tell me how you overcome your reluctance to train.

    Image by Steve Maw on Flickr