We were on the upper NC section of the Blue Ridge Parkway this year, which has more open, rolling pastureland than you see in the “High Country” lower down. The park’s boundaries are narrower in this section — sometimes only a half-mile wide — so in addition to enjoying some grassland “hobbit hikes” along with our mountain-climbing and waterfalls, we also brushed up against more farms, homes, and… well, cows… this year. (We called them wild cows, or cow-bears, in order to feel more daring and adventurous.) (more…)
Tag: lessons
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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.
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Boxing Lesson: Advance on the Jab
It may be that trainers have been saying this to me for years now, and I’m only just recently able to hear it.
There is so much to be mastered in boxing that sometimes it’s all you can do to cope with the basics. You have to simply survive in the ring for a long time before you stop sucking and start to look like you know a couple of things. It can be incredibly hard to operate calmly when you feel like you are under fire, but I promise you, it does happen! You get one tiny building block, then another and another.
I feel like I am finally at the point where I’m able to hear my trainers tell me to advance on the jab. Jay was saying this well before I was at Second Round, where I’m hearing it now from Coach “One Bad Jab” Massey.
It sounds ridiculously simple, doesn’t it?
For whatever reasons, I’ve either not heard it, or haven’t been able to implement it until recently. It could be that I was simply relying on my fairly good reach, and just never gave my jabs that extra push they needed to punch through, rather than to my target. Using your rear foot to push yourself forward in a short, strong burst on the jab gives you a couple more inches and really sends that jab home with a bang.
This is an offensive jab, whereas many of my jabs are also defensive, thrown to keep someone out of my range or stop my opponent’s advance. That’s all good, but advancing on the jab is another way to intimidate, score, and control in the boxing ring.
Check out one of my favorite fighters, Ana “The Hurricane” Julaton (8-2-1, 1 KO), the WBO super bantamweight world champion who recently defended her title against #1 contender Franchesca “The Chosen One” Alcanter (18-10-1, 9 KO’s).
Julaton’s jab is unstoppable. She won the fight on this perfect shot, a handful of power rights and that sick left hook.
Watch how she advances on nearly every single jab. It’s incredible to see, and it’s made even more powerful with the warp speed at which she moves. The fight begins at the 7 minute mark on the video below, and this video includes the entire 10 rounds. Ana is in the red and black.
By the way, Ana Julaton just became the first female boxer ever to appear on a Topps trading card. Cool, huh? Oh, and since they gave Ana one, they had to give one to Manny Pacquiao, too.
But around my house, we’ll be hoping for a Julaton.
Image by maxtm on Flickr
*Incidentally, the ref in the ring in the photo at the top of this post is one of the coaches at Second Round where I’m boxing now. He is frequently back and forth to NY (and many other places) as a boxing referee. I think he’s been doing it now for more than 40 years. I’m forever coming across him in video and photos.
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How Boxing Inspires People
Train Me Right — What We Are About from jill Morley on Vimeo.
I just found this awesome video over on Jill Morley’s blog and was glued to the screen as each fighter told just a small piece of his or her story.
The woman who appears at the end of this video, Kaiyana Rain, also has a fight blog, and I’ve added her to my blogroll. I will definitely be checking in to read over there so that I can continue to learn from and be inspired by her.
If you’ve ever wondered why we do it, these people will give you a little piece of that answer.
You may find that you need some of what they have, and if so, I hope you’ll get to the gym and take a serious look at the possibility that you can win a measure of hard work, peace, struggle, beauty and boxing badassery all for yourself, no matter your age or sport.
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New Lessons in Boxing
I’m making my way back from the Christmas holiday slouch — a much-needed break — and I’m doing okay. And the first challenge of the new year was sparring with a group of young men from the UNC boxing team (yep, they have a boxing team! No women, though.), who joined us recently at the gym.
Sparring with the UNC Team
It is admittedly nerve-wracking, having a bunch of big, muscled, fit young college men show up at your ring. You never know how all-out the mix-up will be. The first time I ever experienced this I completely bailed out, the level of testosterone and terror was so high.
And that’s precisely what happened for our younger and newer team members. This time, though, I was determined to stick in there.
The UNC guys came in with almost no entourage and a good attitude, joining in our warm-ups, joking and friendly. And even though there were some politics and a small amount of drama involved, we had some good sparring together.
Sparring with the Second Round Team
So I was feeling much better when a week later, another boxing team showed up at our gym unexpectedly (detail mix-up) for sparring. This team’s rather extensive entourage arrived before they did, and it completely set us all off guard. We eventually learned that this was the team we were expecting to meet the next morning at another location for a three-gym sparring session.
But, given that our two gyms were here on the night before, we did our best, and amazingly (given my discomfort and nerves), I boxed well that night. I worked primarily with my own team mates, but also did three rounds with one of their up-and-coming young female boxers, as well as a very memorable round with their 6-time national champion Olympic hopeful (male).
I was confident and strong, and I went home at 9:30 pm, showered, changed, and went out to for a few drinks and some local rock music with my husband.
The next morning he woke up with a fever. One of our sons had just been sick, and so I braced myself for the inevitable domino effect to run through my family. And I checked myself constantly — was my headache due to boxing, drinking, sleep deprivation, worry, or was I getting sick too? Was my muscle soreness from the hard workout the night before or did I feel feverish? I had promised to be at the 3-gym sparring session, but was I well enough?
I went anyway. I was nearly an hour late, arriving dehydrated, exhausted, and anxious. Bad mix.
Sparring with Second Round and LA Boxing Raleigh
There were a ton of boxers there, mostly experienced and strong, but a few greener boxers as well. It was probably one of the highlights of my boxing career to date that when I was called into the ring, my coach told me to “hold back” and the opposing coach told their fighter to “go all out.” It’s so rare that I get to be the superior boxer! But I felt like crap, though, and even before the bell rang I knew I was in for a whuppin’.
And I took my licks. The two boxers (both women) that they put in with me were certainly greener, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hitting me with every ounce of power they had. I stumbled once, early on. My feet refused to move. My head refused to think. My gloves rode low and I took hit after hit to the head. Once I was so ungainly that I got head-butted — her head to my chin — and I have a whopping bruise and a sore jaw as a result.
Absolutely 100% of the damage I took was my own damn fault.
I was slow, tired, and unprepared. I am easily the better boxer and yet I let the newer boxers take me down. I barely made it through four rounds. I deserved every bit of my pain, and I’m doing my best to call it a lesson well-learned.
Here’s my recap:
Lesson One: Hard sparring two days in a row is advanced.
If you decide to do it, you need solid cardio, good sleep, no drinking, and plenty of hydration. Eating right is essential. Fuel your body in all the right ways in advance. As one of the coaches ringside said to his miserably flagging fighter, “Anybody can box when they’re in shape.” Avoid the misery. Be ready.
Lesson Two: Sparring with another gym takes a greater toll than sparring with your own team.
People are scared and uncertain and some have things to prove. Everyone fights harder; there’s never “light” sparring. It’s often harder than an actual fight, because you’ll have more rounds and more opponents. Be aware that the next few days you will need to pamper yourself and recover. Also you’ll want ibuprofen.
Lesson Three: Always protect yourself.
If someone is throwing heat in their rounds, you need to be able to tell them to cut that shit out before you start your own rounds with them. Don’t mice words, don’t be polite. Be direct and forceful. I only did it once with the UNC boys, and it was entirely effective. He pulled the heat and after we sounded each other out, he gave me good work.
Yes, your coach or trainer is also looking out for you, but frankly, you should be doing this for yourself. Boxing is a dangerous sport, no lie. It’s also very individual-oriented. There’s no team of players in there with you who can protect you if you falter. You can’t call a time-out and ride the bench for a few minutes — you’re in there until the bell rings. Every boxer has to evaluate the danger and operate within risky boundaries. You don’t want to screw around with this, or leave it to someone else.
Lesson Four: You can learn a shit-ton of new things if you are willing to do it.
The young up-and-comer from the unexpected sparring night was incredibly fierce. She constantly came forward on me, bringing me game. She had a high punch output and made me use a little more power than I should have in order to hold her off of me. I want to work with her again in order to practice blocking more of her shots.
The Olympic hopeful dude was a sheer joy — his coach put him in on defense only with me (which I often hate, as it makes me feel like a baby) but he was so good that I could hardly lay a shot on him. His foot speed was great, but he really shone when he stood still and let me throw combos; his ability to evade my shots with fades, slips, leans, and ducks was amazing. Once I tried to pin him in a clinch and he simply wrapped my arms and turned me neatly 180 degrees with a quick spin. Utterly illegal, completely hilarious. I loved it.
And damn, I can hardly wait to get back with those girls from the three-team day of sparring! One of them was incredibly effective at pinning me to the ropes with her wide hooks. She was shorter than me but she was great at using her extra weight to wear me down. The other was quick with her right, and I don’t think I blocked a damn one of her power punches. I want her again, too. Both of those girls would make me use my feet and responses to evade their combos.
Lesson Five: Facing fear needs practice.
It’s incredibly useful to go spar with new people because it lets you experience the adrenaline dump, the fear, and the nerves, which are all a part of an actual fight, and a part of life. Part of me thinks that if I can just go through it enough in boxing, it will quit having so much debilitating power over me. Who knows.
I do know that I have some mental work to do, to build myself back up after sucking so bad on that third sparring event. Mental and physical. But for now I’ll take a couple of days off, ice what’s sore, and take another dose of aspirin. I have new lessons to assimilate before I go hunting for more.
North Burnaby Boxing Gym on Flickr.
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New Lessons in Sparring: Controlling the Ring
I like to box from the center of the ring.
I was never that boxer who floats endlessly around the ring, dashing here and there and making the entire fight more of a dance than a boxing round. It’s a thousand times easier to stand in the center and pivot to face those opponents who like to run laps in the ring.
I guess I must have been used to standing in the center with few to challenge me for the privilege, because on Sunday I had a new sparring partner, and I never once wrested control from him. It was a bit of a surprise, and a deeply pleasurable learning experience.
George is a philosopher. As we were warming up and casually discussing use of power in the sparring arena, he sagely pronounced, “The amount of power a boxer should be sparring with should be such that if you make a hit square in the nose, it might bleed but it won’t break.” I loved that.
George is twenty-one years old, 145 pounds and close to my height. I saw some video of him sparring with a newbie and immediately understood several things about him. One, he has a teacher’s heart. Two, he isn’t a giant ego, waiting to show off his stuff on someone who is not as good a boxer as he is. And three, he clearly loves fight sports and wants everyone else to love them too — he has an infectious grin that rarely leaves his face.
As soon as I saw the tapes, I immediately began working to arrange time in the ring with him, and he was most gracious and accommodating.
On Sunday we bumped gloves and settled into our rounds. He let me take the lead, dictate the level of power we would be trading. He smiled and nodded, encouraging me as I worked my combinations. I could see his strong martial arts training in his stance, his way of using his entire body — rather than just his upper body and feet — to box. There was a sense of poise, of balance in him. He wasn’t afraid to lean waaaay back to avoid a punch, something boxers rarely do. He used my own momentum to swing me into positions I hadn’t planned on. And his gloves were blindingly fast.
Four or five rounds in I suddenly realized it: I’d not once controlled the ring. His offense was constant, no rests or pauses, and I was forever on the defensive and near the ropes. But there was something else, too. I stopped us.
“Why am I never able to gain the center?” I asked, pulling my mouthpiece out to talk.
He grinned, pulled his own mouthpiece out and pointed it at me. “You’re always in the center, aren’t you? I’ve seen you spar; I don’t think anyone’s challenged you. I like to keep control of the ring, too. And I haven’t been letting you take it.” We walked through some moves and he showed me how he was constantly staying one step ahead of my pace, cutting me off whenever I tried to get past him. And for some reason I was often inclined to circle left on him rather than right, even though we were both orthodox fighters.
It was in naming that last fact that I realized what the extra “something” was. “You’re squared up!” I cried. “You’re facing me dead on. Boxers never do that!” We always try to keep one shoulder forward, presenting as small a target as possible. His wide, straight-on stance had been triggering my desire to circle left, as I would on a southpaw. On a conscious level, I knew he was orthodox, but on a subconscious level, I had never been certain which way to go.
He laughed. “Not quite,” he corrected. “I’m squared up until we engage, then I shift to throw or defend.” He demonstrated. Full on, then shift to an angle. Then full on again. Quick, economical movements. So that was one of the factors that had kept me off-balance.
Add to that the fact that he never rested. Dude had a full tank of gas and was willing to burn it. I have been in the habit of throwing, resting, throwing. Or even allowing my opponents to throw themselves out so that I could then move in with my own offense. George never quit throwing punches! He was a master of flurries, and there was nothing to do but defend, eat some punches, and throw despite an oncoming combo. It was fascinating to realize it, and hard to break through.
One step ahead. Full-on approach coupled with an angled defense and delivery. Constant offense.
Utter control of the ring.
This is what having a new sparring partner does for you. I was absolutely thrilled to encounter it all.
And I can’t wait to get in the ring with him again.
Image by melanieburger
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Lessons in the Ring: Footwork
Recently I had the privilege of working one-on-one with a favorite trainer of mine; his name is Mike and he has the moves of a ninja assassin (I know tons of those guys) and the heart of a teacher. He mostly teaches MMA, and I frequently find myself thinking, “If I could box like he fights…” So with that in mind I arranged for a little bit of training time with him.
It’s amazing how much you can learn in one short hour. Mike had me shadowbox for a few minutes or so, and gave me some pointers that will take me months to integrate.
1. So much hinges on balance.
I didn’t realize I’d been keeping most of my weight either on my front foot or (more frequently) my rear foot. This means I’m slow to move and if I add leaning back (which I tend to do) I could easily end up on my butt on the canvas.We have an old tire out on the loading dock behind our gym. I’ve spent time standing on it in my boxing stance, shifting my weight forward and back in the classic boxer shuffle, trying to get the hang of keeping my balance so precisely carried between my front and back foot that I can move quickly in any direction.
Sound easy? I wish.
2. Use the ball of your rear foot.
I had been letting my toe pivot when I threw a straight right or a right hook, but I wasn’t keeping the ball of my back foot in solid contact with the ground and using it to push my punch out. This means I’m letting my arms do all the work when I could use my legs too.3. Duck under with a crescent step to the side, right hook.
I really wasn’t working any angles, just boxing straight on. Mike drilled me on this simple “crescent” step — where you slide your right foot up and out to the side — before throwing a right hook. The ducking and sliding is in combination with a wind-up for that hook, which can go to the head or body. But all of it depends on getting the footwork right.4. Keep toes on front foot pointed straight at your opponent.
I had been pointing mine to the right slightly, as if I were trying to get a head start in moving to the right (customary, when two orthodox fighters are working together). But this leaves me just slightly off balance and prevents me from moving quickly to the left.Just four more lessons on the way. Shout out to Mike Velotta: thanks so much!
Image by danielmorris (kinda Christmassy, dontcha think?)
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3 New Lessons in the Boxing Ring
My newest sparring partner is 6’4″ and two hundred and please-don’t-hit-me pounds. Monstrous. And wonderful in the ring. We had a very respectable five rounds in the ring this weekend and he taught me a lot.
Obviously a guy this big has to work with care when sparring a skinny chick like me. So we did what you do when you know it’s not evenly matched: you warm up a round or two, then begin to work on some very specific skills. In his case, defense, and in mine, getting past his defense. So I started out working my way past his ridiculously long reach to land a punch to his head or body, and being deeply satisfied when I could land something solid without taking too many of his jabs in exchange.
But after a while I began to notice how much chasing I was doing in the ring. We were circling at a pretty high speed, and I could feel myself wearing out. The constant advice from my trainer and my corner was to keep moving, keep moving. It was imperative to slip and dodge as many of his punches as I possibly could. And I was pretty damn motivated to do so, but was starting to really get winded by the third round.
On the bell I heaved my mouthguard out and panted, “I feel like I’m having to chase him all over the ring. I can’t figure out what to do; I have to keep moving.”
“You do have to keep moving,” my coach replied, “but you need to quit chasing him. Move your head, slip his punches, but stay in the center of the ring and let him come to you for a change.”
You would think this would not be so difficult, but I feel like I’ve been diving after my opponent since the first day I stepped into the ring. I’m not sure why I do this, but for the first time ever I forced myself to put all other systems on auto-pilot (keep the jab out there, move the head), stop circling, and try to wait for my opponent to come to me.
It’s agonizing, the waiting. And it wasn’t working right, I could tell. At the end of the third round I groaned my frustration to my trainer. And she gave me a magic word that made it fall into place. “Pivot,” she said. You can’t stand there and get pounded, you have to move. But you don’t want to burn up your energy circling all over the ring. So stay in the center, throw your combination, then pivot away so that his returning fire hits the spot you just left. And then he has to come to you to throw again.” Suddenly everything came in to sharp and immediate focus. I saw — literally, as if someone had projected it on a screen — how this tactic could work. I bit down on my mouthguard, banged my gloves together, and when the bell rang I surged to the center of the ring.
It worked. Throw, pivot. Throw, duck, pivot. I was awkward and sloppy, but onto something. Coby grunted encouragingly when I got it right, and we worked the round three more long minutes, swinging, sweating, and making our brains teach our bodies new patterns. The fourth round passed in a haze of hard labor.
At the bell I poured water over my head and asked for help again. I could feel it coming together, but was having trouble keeping command of the center of the ring. “Why am I still losing control?” I asked, working to recover my breathing.
“Because,” she said, “you are moving at the same speed as your opponent. You’re running less because you’re pivoting, but he’s able to circle the ring on the outside enough to keep wearing you down. You have to cut him off, and to cut him off you’ll have to move faster than him for a minute. Dart in front and force the confrontation. Punch and pivot. Recover while you wait for him to come to you. If he starts circling again, cut him off again. Dart ahead, throw, pivot, rest. You’ll get it. Keep working.”
How did I never realize I was constantly matching, but never exceeding, the speed of my opponent? But it was totally true. And I found that the short darts, the burst of energy, served me well. There was no finesse left in me, no secrets, no subtlety. But new knowledge buoyed my spirits and I pushed myself on, finishing our fifth and last round feeling like a rock star.
Stop chasing and pivot. Wait for him to come to you. Cut off the ring by moving faster than your opponent. Three new lessons, and dozens of sparring sessions stretching ahead of me in which to practice and learn them. It feels awesome to be growing and learning in the ring.
And it’s even better knowing I have incredible sparring partners and trainers there helping me become a better boxer. Exuberant and grateful fist bumps to all of you: Coach Bonnie, Lisa (in the corner), and Coby. You guys rocked my week.
Image credit: helico on Flickr
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Needed: More Hungry Boys
The Ice loves to cook. This weekend he wanted to make biscuits, a favorite for us. I requested a double batch, since the single barely makes it around the table in our family. The Ice has never made a double batch of anything before, so we talked about careful measurements and keeping track. He waved me out of the kitchen, preheated the oven, and happily began.
Ten minutes later I heard a plaintive “Mom, this isn’t right.” Oh boy.
“Did you put in each ingredient twice?” I asked.
“Yeeee-ah,” he responded slowly, “but something’s wrong with it. It isn’t supposed to look like this.”
I peered in to see a soupy mess in the bowl. A whole lot of soupy mess. Yikes.
We ran the check together. “Did you measure the Bisquick in twice?”
He had.
“Did you measure the milk in twice? Two-thirds of a cup, two times?”
He nodded, pointing to the measuring cup as proof. Ahh.
We have a four-cup measuring cup. Since the first measurement on the cup is a giant “1” I knew exactly what had happened. He had measured one and two thirds of a cup in. Twice. Which equals soup.
I shook the Bisquick box — still heavy. “I just loooove biscuits,” I told him jauntily, and dumped in the rest of the box. Well, I do.
We had five batches of biscuits for dinner. They were very good, they were. If you were here, we would share them with you. And send some home with you, too. Some for your neighbors as well.