The Glowing Edge

Tag: power

  • Putting Snap in Your Punch

    Putting Snap in Your Punch

    Power is an open secret in boxing, and most fighters hear their coaches talking about “punching through” and “putting your body behind” a solid, powerful shot.

    But there is another, sneakier and equally effective method to score punches, intimidate an opponent, and win your game, and that’s in developing a stinging snap in your punch; particularly your jab.

    A regular jab can be used for a variety of purposes in the boxing ring. It can measure the distance between you and your opponent or it can open the way for a power shot, among other things. But it can be a devastating shot all on its own if you can make it into a snapping whip of a shot, the kind of punch that comes out of nowhere, hits like an electric shock, and disappears before your opponent can even register its presence.

    What gives a punch snap

    A snapping punch is created out of speed and minimal contact. It’s a punch that goes out fast and returns fast. You have to turn it over (right at the end of the shot), touch with sting, and bring it back to guard position in rapid-fire succession.

    A well-landed shot of any kind has a distinctive sound on the heavy bag or mitts. There’s a particular thwack or pop that gives you the feedback you need to know you’ve scored with precision and pain. But a snapping punch has a higher sound, almost like a dry stick being cracked in two.

    The advantages of snap jabs

    1. They save your power.

    When you’re punching for power alone, you will burn a lot of energy quickly, and you run the risk of gassing out. You can’t launch bomb shots rapidly, either. Nor can you spend the entire fight throwing one knockout punch after another; there’s a dance, a balance to be maintained. Boxing is a conscious mental play of the game pieces, and rather than blindly launching everything you have at once, you have to choose your shots.

    2. They’re fast! They buy you valuable time.

    A snapping punch has the great advantage of being incredibly fast. When you get one off, you startle your opponent and buy yourself even more time to launch and score again before they recover. It also allows you to throw more shots than you could if you were loading up power hits one after the other.

    3. They preserve your guard.

    Because your return to guard so much faster, you’re more protected than if you’re leaving yourself open during a push-through or penetrating power hit.

    How to throw a snapping punch

    You have to have your distance exactly right. Throw some measuring jabs out there, and once you know the range for a snap-touch, fire a couple off. If you’re advancing on the jab, you have to put that into your calculations. Try from your stable stance before tossing in an advance, because advance-jabs tend to be more “punch through” than snapping jabs.

    But the biggest secret to throwing a snapping punch is relaxing. It sounds counter-intuitive, but it’s absolutely necessary. Think about a coiled whip. The stiffer the braided leather is, the less bite the tip will have when it makes contact. But if it’s supple and loose, Indiana Jones is going to make you cry.

    Got snap?

    Leave me a comment and tell me your technique!

    Photo credit: Marco Crupi Visual Artist via photopin cc

  • Boxing Over 40: How to Instantly Double Your Gym Time and Eliminate Your Joint Stress

    Boxing Over 40: How to Instantly Double Your Gym Time and Eliminate Your Joint Stress

    I recently got a fantastic new boxing training partner. Any time you find someone reliable and skilled in your sport, you’re bound to learn new things right away.

    Yvonne is a former world champion and pro fighter in her 40s, and she just moved to my town a couple of months ago. We started working together in the gym, and after a few training sessions outside the ring she told me she was ready to do some light sparring.

    What was different about our sparring was that we decided not to wear headgear. Our intent was to get good work in, but not to hit hard.

    Training without headgear

    For Yvonne, a seasoned pro, boxing without headgear was nothing new. For me, it was something I’d thought about, but I’ve never had a training partner I trusted enough to do it with on a regular basis.

    Could she get hurt by me? Of course. I weigh 20 pounds more than she does, and love to stand and slug. But as a long-time pro fighter who is light and quick on the inside, she could lay some pain on me as well.

    Sparring without headgear means you both agree to work on solid hits that don’t punch through, even throwing many shots that only touch to score.

    Controlling your power

    The urge to use power in boxing is incredibly seductive. It’s normal, of course, to hit hard; everyone expects that. But there’s a fine line when you’re training in the ring. You don’t always know what your sparring partner is going to do. Will they try to get work, or are they trying to prove something? Will they be letting emotions, baggage, or a loud corner, parent, or coach drive them to try to hurt you?

    Sometimes it’s a question of being new to the sport. The newer you are, the less control you have. This is why it’s best for a newbie to be in the ring with an experienced boxer.

    But once you are reasonably good at your sport and can control your shots, are you willing to? There are people watching and judging. Do they doubt your power? Do you doubt your own power? What are you risking by pulling your punches?It’s a vulnerable feeling, hitting without hurting.

    But if you’re able and willing to do it, there are tremendous benefits.

    Sparring without headgear makes me pay close attention to my work. I have to focus more and be less sloppy, because if I quit thinking, I can hurt someone.

    I try to balance my head and body shots now because I tend to be a headhunter, and now I’m aware that my partner is unprotected.

    I’ve become bolder — I know I’m not going to get hurt — so I can take time to focus intensively on new things — particularly inside work, which is not where I like to keep my game.

    Easing the punishment to your joints

    But more than anything else, I’ve realized how much less joint pain I’ve had.

    When you spend two or three of your training days piling up rounds of heavy bag work and/or sparring, your body takes some damage. Up until now I’d been spending most of my gym time working with power.

    And the heavy bag (especially) doesn’t give much; every time you use power on a heavy bag, that resistance takes a toll on your hand, wrist, elbow and shoulder joints.

    Doubling and tripling your training

    Because of the heavy damage to my body in boxing, I had restricted high-impact boxing work (heavy bag and/or sparring) to no more than one day a week. The other training days I did weights, cardio, and so on.

    Once Yvonne and I started sparring 6-8 rounds once a week with no headgear, I suddenly experienced a complete elimination of day-after joint pain. I no longer needed recovery time, I no longer had trouble sleeping on my side.

    Now we spar 6-8 rounds twice a week, and still I have no difficulties, and am ready to add a third day of boxing-specific work on the heavy bag.

    I’ve been amazed at the difference, and incredibly pleased with how my body is performing.

    Still hitting hard

    Can I still hit hard? You bet your ass I can. Do I still lay into the heavy bag? Sure. And I tackle padwork now and then, and expect to do harder sparring periodically as well.

    But for now, I’m very happy to have doubled my training time and completely eliminated my joint pain.

    What about you? Have you found ways to fight well and still care for your body? Leave me a comment below!

    Top image credit: Martial Arts Nomad on Flickr

  • The Geography of Boxing Guts

    The Geography of Boxing Guts

    There is a visually simple way to understand where you are — and change your position — on the fear scale in boxing.

    Sparring can be scary, of that there’s no doubt. And there’s always dread to overcome when making the decision to roll under those ropes. But there’s actually a very physical way to shift yourself forward and make it into the ring.

    The first thing you need to understand is the difference between a regular sparring night and a hard sparring night, because if you are going to see the absolute truth about where you stand and make real progress in shifting yourself forward in boxing, you need a hard sparring night.

    On a hard sparring night, things get very clear, very quickly.

    A single look at the gym will tell you everything, and you can make your decision about whether you decide to fold and watch or play and win.

    And you absolutely will win if you play.

    Because just being willing to get in the ring during a session like that will move you forward, no matter how you actually perform during your sparring.

    But there’s more to it than that. Let me see if I can explain…

    The typical sparring order and match-ups

    In most of the gyms where I’ve trained the littlest boxers typically go first in sparring. Maybe it’s because they’re small or young, and their parents will be waiting to get them home, fed, and off to sleep.

    After the younger ones have their ring time, the rest of the team begins to work, not necessarily by rank, but simply based on what the coach wants to achieve with each boxer. I might get paired with someone who is a fast puncher because the coach wants me to practice my defense, for example. Or a heavyweight will get put in with a visiting heavyweight because the home boxer rarely gets a chance to really unleash as well as experience the power and pain that another person of the same weight brings to the ring.

    If a boxer is behaving poorly, refusing to take instruction, and allowing their emotions and issues to cause them to brawl rather than box, the coach might put them in with someone who is technically better and who can pound a physical lesson into them. Incidentally, that lesson is called “get yourself under control, boy” and it’s still hard for me to understand, but my husband says it’s a guy thing. It looks like a street fight, and it’s often bloody, but it seems to be a part of the way boxing works.

    And as I mentioned earlier, there are also different kinds of sparring nights. Some are more easygoing and filled with stops and starts, and some are all-out war.

    War nights are good to have on occasion, because a real boxing fight is not about patty cake. It isn’t you and your buddies, messing around. It’s serious hard work, and it can be  brutal.

    Every gym has war nights. My gym had one recently, too.

    What happens on a war night

    There were maybe 15 to 18 boxers training in the gym when the coach sent everyone to gear up and went and took his place ringside on a painted wooden stool.

    The young kids did not go first.

    Instead, Coach put in two of the top boxers in the gym, instructed everyone to ignore the bell, and calmly uttered the one word that causes every fighter’s engine to roar to life, “Box.”

    Those are the first two clues to a hard sparring night. Different order of business, no bell boundaries. Your gym might keep to the bell, but no bell means you’re about to work quickly all the way to failure (and then you’ll work some more).

    The top boxer stayed in the ring as multiple fighters rotated in and out. I’ve been in that “stay in” position in other gyms (with less skilled people than Second Round) and it’s something everyone should experience once in while.

    When the coach puts you in and makes you box to the end of your ability with a string of fresh fighters, you not only feel great to be in that position, you learn a lot about your strengths and your limits. You find out what areas of training you’ve been neglecting. You discover how long you can last. You learn how to defend once you’re played out.

    The top boxers at my gym went in, one after another. The shots were not training level. No one pulled punches. No one messed around. Everyone threw full power, all out.

    About 5 minutes in, someone went over to the boom box and turned the volume way down until all we could hear was the relentless slam of leather against flesh, the bright pop of a glove against headgear, and the dull thud of a perfectly executed body shot.

    The church of boxing had been called to order, and the supplicants focused all their attention on the ferocious litany in the ring.

    This is the time when you can see, visually, exactly where you are on the fear scale.

    Where boxers stand

    On a hard sparring night like this, the unspoken code is: watch or leave.

    Every heavy bag hung undisturbed. The constant chatter of speed bag was silenced. There was no intermittent clang of weights being racked. No one skipped rope, or shadowboxed, or chatted aimiably on the ragged, garage-sale couches at the back of the gym.

    And if you find yourself in a holy moment like this, look around to see where everyone stands. Physically.

    Most of the fighters were ringside, leaning up against the ring apron, watching the action through the lower two ropes.

    One man stood, jump rope in hand, about 6 feet back. Periodically he would wander over to the heavy bags. I was fairly certain he would not get in. (He didn’t.)

    A thin young teenager stood nervously next to the freestanding pull up machine. I thought he might not get in, either. (He didn’t.)

    Anyone further back than that is most likely doing their best to avoid the battleground and stay out of the fight.

    Which is perfectly acceptable.

    But the phrase “know where you stand” is particularly useful here. If you want to shift your fear, you need to walk forward. If you want to tell your body that regardless of what your brain says, you intend to spar, you need to stand where you are actually touching — connected to — the ring.

    And here’s another piece of that same puzzle…

    Are you ready?

    Last night I suddenly realized, during this moment, that although I was leaning against the ring apron, peering intently through the bottom two ropes at the action, I had not geared up.

    In fact, neither had the guy with the jump rope in hand, by the heavy bags.

    It’s true, I was late coming in, and was only warming up as everyone else was getting ready to spar, but now that the game was on, what did my relative unpreparedness say about my willingness to get in the ring?

    It was clearly a war night. I’ve been here before; in fact, the first time I experienced it I bailed. I needed to take stock and make a decision about how much I would allow my fear to rule me.

    I turned and walked to the back of the gym, quietly gathered my gear, and returned to the side of the ring and began to gear up.

    The unspoken request

    If you expect to be put in the ring on a night like this, you have to mentally request it. Your posture, your attitude, your engagement level all have to tell your coach that you are willing to get in if he calls your name. He’s not going to call everyone, because the stakes are higher, and there needs to be room for people to keep themselves out of the fight even if they stay in the gym.

    This is about eye contact. About listening intently to whatever comments and instruction the coach is giving the fighters. It’s about leaning in, both mentally and physically, no matter how much the edge of the ring feels like the edge of a blade.

    The test of fire

    The coach at Second Round is phenomenal.

    A former pro boxer himself, Coach Massey completely understands the dynamics of fear, and the geography of boxing guts. He works with, rather than against his boxers. He rarely raises his voice, but instead trains us to hear his voice anywhere in the gym (no matter the din) and respond to his instruction. He will take me farther than I would go on my own, and I can count on him to judge accurately when to push and when to leave be.

    Last night there were many other issues to be worked out among our top fighters before I could get a chance to box, but I was ringside, I was geared, and I was mentally asking to fight, despite my fear. I knew he would call my name, and finally I heard him say, without even looking in my direction, “Lisa. On deck.”

    I swallowed hard, levered myself up onto the ring, and waited outside the ropes for his signal.

    As it happened, I was in pretty good shape for my challenge. I’m keeping up with my workouts and doing my sprints. Earlier in the week I had gone 6 rounds or so with no bell, working on inside fighting only. Trey, a beautiful, powerful light heavyweight had given me plenty of hard work, forcing me to stay knee to knee, leaning into me and making me bump him off with my shoulder and dig in with right and left uppercuts before finishing with a left hook to his head. Over and over. Slowly I shed my fear of his powerful shots to my body, and quit hopping backwards to my more comfortable outside fighting position.

    On war night my gas was good, I wasn’t already tired out, and I felt mentally as solid as you can in these situations.

    My first opponent was a fierce young man named Shaq. He’s fast, but he’s smaller than I am, so I knew I could take his power. I intended to give him a taste of my hard right, and I was primed to stick with the inside game if he forced the issue. I planned to employ every illegal tactic I could (our coach is pretty lenient on this issue) to tip the scales in my favor. I’d already seen some damn messy (and bloody) brawling, and I’d heard the coach tell us  that just because a shot was ugly didn’t mean it wasn’t effective. I was ready.

    No bell, just the word from the coach. I rolled in with guns blazing, and Shaq let me dominate the first minute or so.

    He’d already been fighting and I was fresh, but I started to suspect he was “going easy” on me, so I pinned him to the ropes and growled at him. “You better bring me something to work with, dammit,” I told him, and before I could finish up with a suitable threat, he had spun out and rocked my head back with the most beautiful, crispest jab ever thrown.

    “Nice.” I commented, “Thank you.” And we were on.

    We worked a couple of rounds I think (no bell, hard to figure it), before the coach switched up fighters again, and I ducked out feeling wonderful. I knew he would put me in again (he did, with a very tired Trey), and I might not look as fresh or fight as well, but I’d already won the real victory.

    I’d gone forward. I’d shown I was ready. And I got in.

    And that’s the most beautiful part of boxing.

    Photo by Official U.S. Navy Imagery, creative commons license

  • Power Up, Women

    Power Up, Women

    I need to travel over to Athletic Women Blog more regularly, because every time I go I get dosed up with a massive hit of all-out inspiration. Look people, I know this video is a advert for UnderArmor (which I do in fact wear), but the fact is that any commercial that powers me up like this is a win. For them, for me, for my game. Women love to kick ass and take names, don’t we?

    Here’s another one, also poached from Rob Mars at AWB, that does the same thing and it’s not even selling me stuff. It’s just an incredible show of woman power in its most graceful and (potentially) dangerous form. I clearly need to sign up for ballet lessons. Somebody hand me a sword.

    Finally, I can’t seem to get embed support on this one, but check out this women’s boxing newsreel, dated 1928, from British Pathe. Again, posted by Rob on AWB. It cracks me up that the woman (who is boxing a man) is wearing her boxing boots with a fringed leotard. She flat out rocks, too.

  • Make Your Punches Count

    Make Your Punches Count

    Eight phenomenal non-stop rounds in the boxing ring last night with my trainer.

    I am consistently amazed at how much my boxing improves when I’m in the ring with her. I work so hard, learn so much, and have such an incredible experience.

    I had gotten to the gym an hour early to do 30 minutes of slow cardio and a long, careful stretching routine. I felt pretty warm and flexible, but wanted to preserve my energy for our rounds. I have not been training with intervals lately so I knew I’d have to work harder than usual to go whatever distance she chose. She knows I always want at least 6 rounds, but she has the capability to do far more; I’ve seen her go 15 straight rounds as fresh boxers on our team cycle in and out with her. She has phenomenal stamina.

    Last night I was a little nervous before we began; I couldn’t get the image of Bonnie’s last fight out of my mind. The jab-right combo — which instantly dislocated her opponent’s jaw and ended the fight with a first-round TKO — played itself over and over again in my head. I didn’t want to say too much about it in advance to Bonnie because I didn’t want listening bystanders to make jokes.

    It helped that she was relaxed but very serious as we geared up; this is a pro boxer coming off a big win, maintaining her form for her next fight in August. It could be a title fight. What we’re doing together is for real.

    Right before the bell rang I caught her eye. “I’m a little nervous,” I said, tapping my left glove to my jaw.

    She immediately caught on. “No need,” she returned quietly, shaking her head slightly. My fear immediately dissipated. What this woman says, you can take to the bank. The bell rang, we tapped gloves, and began to box.

    She almost always lets me throw the first combinations. Sometimes it’s spooky; you have the sense that she’s sizing you up and once she has your measurements will quickly put you on the canvas. When I’m in the ring with her I can feel her coiled power, all that potential energy swirling and packing into her body and awaiting release. Mostly I take the open shots she gives me with the sure and certain knowledge that I have one solid defense against a boxer who is better than I am: one million jabs.

    I have to throw more shots, whether they are good, bad, or otherwise. Jabs are the way to keep your opponent from thinking and planning. They keep her off of you, make her hesitate or defend. A wall of jabs is the surest way to open a path to a real shot, a solid right or a hook to the body, whatever it takes to get in on your opponent and score some pain.

    Lucky for me the old Bonnie, the pre-getting-ready-for-a-fight Bonnie, was back last night. She was content to make me work hard for four rounds while she sat back and sipped lemonade, periodically shooting a wicked punch out to make me remember just how deadly she can be.

    I was thrilled and amazed at how many of her left hooks I slipped. I got into a pattern with my combos — finally! — of punch-punch-punch SLIP. And it worked, because Bonnie loves to throw those hooks at my head when I come in at her. Several caught me clean, but many more slipped, catching no more than the edge of my glove or headgear. I was jubilant.

    In round four I began trying to throw my own left hooks. We’re both orthodox boxers but I frequently circle left on her for fear (respect, I meant to say respect) of her left hook. Last night I was circling right, having figured out the left hook but now being wary of that deadly right cross. I threw several hooks, but they were all in my arm, no body power behind them because I was staying to my right. Where the hell is Mike Tyson when you need him? I kept at it until I saw her grinning.

    “What? I’m trying to get in a left hook, dammit,” I slurred over my mouthpiece.

    “I know,” she said, “but you have to move in closer to get it.”

    Yeah, right. Move in closer to that right cross. My jaw ached just thinking about it.

    “Use your jab,” she advised. “Get in behind it, then whoomp.” She demonstrated for me.

    I tried a few times, even demanding that she slow down and let me move through it a few times on her. But when we got back into the action, I bailed. Back to a thousand jabs and slips, at least that was working for me.

    In round five she started in with her real power. “Bonnie’s warm!” I shouted to the gym. “That means cheer for me, not her,” I joked to one of the guys watching ringside. I was comfortable, in the zone, stoked. Honored that she knows she can unleash that kind of power on me, and more: I can take it!

    The gym echoed with the sound of serious blows being exchanged. I went ahead and exchanged all my chips for power and threw the hell out of what I had. She and I both roared with that crazy, brutal, we’re-in-it-now joy. I was drenched, working hard to breathe after combos. The world faded and there was only boxing.

    At the bell for the seventh round I realized a small crowd had gathered to watch. I suddenly realized that this was the first time Bonnie had been seen in the ring since her fight. I had made my six rounds with joy, with pleasure, with power. And now I was sucking for air and people were watching. Oh well, I thought, let’s see what I have left to give. And we boxed.

    Unfortunately, I caught a solid uppercut to the diaphragm toward the end of the seventh round, and all oxygen exited my universe. Bonnie knew it immediately, and I turned to the ropes and raised my arms to let some air back in to my lungs. “Just a second,” I gasped, “…need just a second.” She backed off and paced, and I cursed gently (because I find this helps) until I could breathe again.

    Ten seconds later I banged my gloves together. “Let’s finish this,” I called, and we touched gloves and worked.

    I finished the seventh round and collapsed gratefully against the ropes, finished. Except Bonnie wasn’t finished. “That was seven rounds?” she asked our ringside crowd, sneaking a look at me. “That feels so… unfinished.”

    I groaned.

    “I hate odd numbers,” she continued, laughing. “And I’m not even tired. Let’s do one more.”

    She knows I can’t resist. I’m helpless against her charm. Or else I am stone cold crazy.

    Yeah, probably that latter one.

    “You got it, Boss,” I told her, dumping half my water bottle over my head. I had no jabs left. I’d thrown everything I had. My arms were marshmallows. I got back in my corner, mentally prepared a battle plan for keeping out of range and covering up with a tight guard, and awaited the bell.

    It was true, she looked fresh. She performed with power and precision, hardly winded at all. I survived the eighth round with determined grace, and stripped my gloves off at the bell. I felt incredible, awesome. Best night of my week.

    But I was thinking later about why she was so fresh after eight rounds.

    As I looked back on it I realized that as the better boxer, she knew she didn’t have to throw as many punches as I did. She threw far fewer, but many more of hers were good or even excellent hits. Many of my jabs, which are effective at keeping her out of my space, don’t land with power or don’t land at all. They are still effective, but it means I’m throwing far more than she does. I go after her with everything I have, staying on offense at least 80% of the time, rarely resting.

    She boxes as if on very serious holiday, absolutely nothing is wasted, no moment is unplanned. Every combination, every segment of footwork, each careful moment of rest and defense is laid out like a fierce ballet. Every single punch counts.

    God, I want to box like that.

    I’m guessing she’ll give me more lessons. Meanwhile you can call me Woman of 1000 Jabs.

    And keep your eye out for my left hook, people. It may be young, but it’ll mature and bring a house of pain with it.

    Image of me sparring by Ken Hall Photography.

  • Chevelle Hallback vs Holly Holm in “Warrior Vengeance”


    On March 26th Chevelle “Fists of Steel” Hallback (27-5-2), one of the world’s most powerful and athletic boxers, will meet Holly Holm (26-1-3) on Holm’s own turf in Albequerque, NM on the “Warrior Vengeance” card. Holm will be defending her WIBA Light Welterweight title in this rematch, promoted by Fresquez Productions.

    “My first fight with Holly was one of my worst performances for date,” Chevelle admitted. “This time,” she noted, “ I have enough time to prepare for the altitude. I believe when I am in superb shape there is not one female fighter out there in my weight class or above my weight class that can beat me.”

    Of Holly Holm’s three rematches, she has won two and battled a third to a draw, but these stats don’t intimidate Hallback. “I enjoy the role of the underdog. It makes me work harder and the victory that much sweeter.”

    Holm is an incredibly disciplined, thinking, and tactical fighter where Hallback is about angles and pure punch power (which you can really see coming out in the training video above); Hallback has an astonishing knockout rate of more than 30%.

    I’m also embedding a video of Hallback in an MMA cage fight with Melissa Vasquez — the fight lasts less than one minute and ends by TKO in a stunning display of hit power. THIS is the kind of intensity I’m expecting to see in Holm vs Hallback, and I believe it will go on for round after round.


    I’m hopeful that Fresquez will once again offer this fight on PPV webcast; if so, it’s a fight you will not want to miss.

  • Test Yourself

    Test Yourself

    After recently learning my body fat percentage I decided to incorporate heavier weightlifting into my training in order to trade a bit of fat weight for muscle weight. I dreaded it, frankly. For some reason I had decided that I was already lifting heavy enough weights, and in fact I think I had it in my mind that I couldn’t lift heavier weights.

    One day in the gym I challenged that assumption.

    Normally I do chest presses with dumbells, and I will pick up two 20 lb weights and do three sets of 15 reps. I’m feeling silly even telling you this, because on Test Day I picked up 22.5’s and did an easy set, then 25’s, then 30’s. With absolutely no difficulty. None whatsoever. I was sure this was a fluke.

    I finished out arm and back exercises as usual then went over to the leg machines, still suspicious. Normally I’ll set the extensions on 30 lbs and do three sets of 15 reps. On Test Day I loaded 50 lbs and moved easily through two sets. Then 70 lbs. Another set, no problem. This was becoming embarrassing.

    On leg presses I always pick 90 lbs, simply because anything over 100 sounds enormous. Test Day: I loaded 150, since it is more than I weigh and it seemed like a serious challenge. It was easy enough to finish two sets. In a moment of “Oh, this is just stupid, I’m not Superwoman,” I jacked it up to 210 and found I couldn’t even get the plates off the stack. “See,” I told myself, pulling it back down to 190, where I completed my last set, but had to work for it. But 190! A cool hundred pounds more than I had been doing! Why didn’t you tell me I was such a slacker?

    I’m stronger than I thought. I’m Super Jr. Woman. Miz Up-and-Coming.

    I’m going to keep shifting more of my exercises up until I can’t complete my long sets, but I’m going a bit at a time to avoid over-stressing anything. It’s been about 6 upgraded weightlifting workouts so far, and there have been no negative repercussions, problems, or difficulties.

    Let my oversight be your lesson: test yourself! You never know what you can do until you try. Trite as hell, but also true. I’m not sure how I missed it all this time.

    But I’m on my way now.

    Image credit: mrflip on Flickr
  • Fat vs. Muscle: It’s Gonna Be a Showdown

    Fat vs. Muscle: It’s Gonna Be a Showdown

    I recently learned my body fat percentage. Um, yeah. I’m officially a fitness geek, it’s okay to think it. I went to the Human Performance Lab near where I work and paid $10 to get pinched in seven places with a small pair of calipers. My numbers were entered into a computer and voilà!

    Carnie fan that I am, I made the (very professional, very smart) man who oversees the Lab guess, before he weighed me or took any measurements, what my body fat percentage was going to be. These guys are good, really good. “Seventeen,” he said, without batting an eyelash. And 17% is exactly what it was.

    As it turns out, most women who are in reasonably decent shape are in the 20’s. A female athlete who trains hard will usually be in the teens. Women who go below 12% often begin having difficulties with menstrual cycles and other things. “Essential fat levels” for women are about 10-13% and for men it’s 2-5%; that’s what you need to regulate hormonal balance and body temperature, protect internal organs, and serve as a  fuel reserve for the body. Bodybuilders get down into single digits, and there are physiological prices that you pay. You don’t want to stay down in the low singles for long.

    Body fat measurement is a much better indicator of overall fitness than body mass index because it doesn’t need to take into account your height. The BMI test has to make assumptions about what a person of a particular height should weigh, and that’s not entirely helpful, especially if you are an athlete with lots of lean muscle mass.

    I only made the trek out to this Lab because a co-worker raved so much about how this was helping him meet his goal of cutting back body fat so his abs would look good for swimsuit season (see, guys do it too). I didn’t have any such goal. My weight is exactly where I want it: I feel strong and by staying at 143 or so I can easily fight in the weight category I’m currently in or cut 4 pounds and be comfortably in the weight category below me. I just went out of curiosity.

    But once I saw my body weight percentages I began to formulate a new goal. If I could trade a few pounds of that fat weight for some muscle weight, that might be really nice. Keep my weight the same, but have more power. The more I thought about it, the better it sounded.

    SO. I’m shifting my training regimen in order to incorporate heavier weights. I’m looking at those big barbells and nodding in satisfaction. Back up, boys. They’re gonna be mine, all mine.

    Image Credit: eschipul on Flickr
  • Breaking in New Boxers (with an emphasis on the breaking)

    Breaking in New Boxers (with an emphasis on the breaking)

    When untried boxers get in the ring for the first time, it’s often a mess.

    At some gyms, little care is taken to see new people nurtured; they throw you in the deep end and see if you can swim. If you talk to many boxers you will hear trial-by-fire stories over and over again. An inattentive trainer allowed his bruisers to treat newcomers like tin cans, or worse, the trainer himself got in the ring with a fresh recruit to show off his superior strength and skills. It’s a backwards kind of tactic that actually seems to work sometimes: “See, if you take it like a man and keep coming back for more, eventually you too will get a turn to bully people in the ring.” And the unfortunate belief that boxing is all about brutality gets yet another toehold.

    Add to this the fact that when you are new to the ring, you simply don’t know what to expect. Typically you think you’re there to beat up or get beaten up, kill or be killed. Terror and determination combine like ammonia and bleach and the result is toxic. New fighters are known for wildly throwing every ounce of power they can scrape together as soon as they come out of the corner in the first round they ever spar. Add to this the fact that they usually don’t have jack for wind, and 30 seconds in they are gasping for air and looking around for a baseball bat to even up the odds. That isn’t always the case, of course. Sometimes they come in with a fury and the power to fuel it for a short burst of time.

    There is a stark dividing line for those who decide to try out the ring. If they are shepherded carefully through this first critical experience they may stick with it. But more fall away than stick, and much of that has to do with who is in charge at the gym.

    Our trainer is very good at bringing new boxers into the ring. Frequently she will get in with someone and allow them to box while she simply practices evasive maneuvers, letting them see how it feels to throw a punch before they learn what it feels like to take one. This actually often has the interesting side effect of bringing some humor into the ring. It’s like standing three feet from a basketball goal and throwing airball after airball; eventually you just laugh at how bad you are. She also runs most everyone who comes through the doors through rigorous conditioning for a few weeks before allowing them in the ring; this way they have at least a small start on the ability to breathe while under fire. And if it’s clear a newcomer has power and speed but just no experience, she will allow them in with a boxer from the team and let us to begin to school the new person as she coaches from the sidelines.

    Once in a while, it doesn’t go smoothly. Every boxer has a story, and most bring their issues into the ring with them. It can be a bumpy ride for a team who is regularly bringing in new people.

    We recently had a young man with tremendous promise and power but inconsistent performance roll in and quickly bust up our steady working routines like a bowling ball on the ninepins. In the few times he’s been here, I’ve seen him bring garbage into the ring, but I’ve also seen him box beautifully and with control once. He is not heavy but he is extremely strong and fast. We hadn’t seen him in weeks, and he sauntered in late and didn’t warm up with the team. Normally this means you don’t get to spar with the team, but sometimes our trainer tries to give the younger ones a break.

    The kid went in with a solid sparring partner who had a few pounds on him, a thought that should have kept him in check. But he barreled out of the corner and started slinging punches like sledgehammers, arms swinging wide and high but still somehow dropping in with shattering force. Our guy called him quietly to pull his power and settle in. Everybody heard but the kid, and suddenly a loaded jab popped the team member’s nose and we had blood. Our boxer shrugged it off, and our trainer called the kid down. No response. Blood dripped steadily and splattered all over the kid’s gloves as he punched. The experienced team boxer worked steadily, keeping his emotions and his power mostly in check, but the kid threw wildly, attacking with abandon. A heavy right cross hit above our man’s eye like a rock. Immediately a blood blister the size of a grape rose, and the third call-down went out. Nothing. By the end of the round the team member’s eye was dark purple and nearly swollen shut. The kid bounced crazily on his toes, and the next team member went in.

    This one is tall and has both reach and ability, but he had been feeling ill all day, and didn’t have the power in him to settle the kid. He made it through his round, ducked between the ropes, and strode quickly for the bathrooms to puke. He came back looking pale but less shaky.

    The third round was assigned to the best boxer on our team, and we all tightened against the ring like fish on a chum bucket. Bonnie gave our guy the nod and we knew he had permission to take the kid to school. The newbie looked a little warily at him, but then came those same punches. Our guy gave one warning. Then, in one of his favorite moves, he let the kid put him on the ropes and tire himself out with a flurry, then snap! — out came the hook like a cobra. The kid seemed a little surprised, but it didn’t put an end to the brawl. Our boxer calmly matched him hit for hit, snapping the kid’s head back a few times. It seemed to let a little air out of his tires, and I saw that tired look creep in. The rest of his round was sloppy, but a little less out of control.

    After that third round the kid came out of the ring and the rest of the team steadfastly ignored him as we worked through the rest of our sparring. I noticed that no one spoke to him or even looked in his direction until we’d run through our abdominal work-out and even wiped down the heavy bags. At the end of practice, all of the men on the team went over to talk with the kid (and not necessarily gently) about how the sparring went. He worked hard to claim that he had done nothing inappropriate, but they were having none of it and made it clear that he still had some work to do when it came to controlling himself in the ring. Our best boxer summed it up for him: “If you had been here to work, we would have worked with you,” he said. “You were warned several times. If you throw heat, you’re going to get heat back. Save your all-out for an actual fight.” He turned and walked off.

    Sparring with new boxers is always difficult. Some think that sparring is a time to bring all your power to every punch and show everyone how macho you are (girls do it too).  Some just don’t know how strong they are until they inadvertently give their partner a black eye or a bloody nose. And all of them are new. They don’t have the experience or the training to be able to control their punches very well, even if they try. Injuries happen more frequently in connection with newcomers than anyone else, and a team — as well as a newcomer —  has to be resigned to that. It’s a part of boxing and always will be.

    Image Credit: nicubunu on Flickr
  • Breakfast of Superheroes

    Breakfast of Superheroes

    Okay, people. You need to get more protein into your mornings, and ease back on the Lucky Charms. Anyway, you’re wasting money on the Lucky Charms when all you do is eat the marshmallows and leave the oat-y bits. So save those for a dessert and listen up.

    You work, play, and train hard, so you need a power start in the morning. The sugar / empty carb overload plan is not going to do it, and don’t fool yourself into thinking that whole grains on their own will, either. I cycle through the following four breakfast menus:

    Steel cut and rolled oats with cinnamon apples and ham

    Put half a cup of water in a pan on high. When it boils, add a quarter cup of steel cut oats. While those boil, chop up half a big apple. Turn the oats to low and add a quarter cup of rolled oats. Chop a 3 oz slice of lean ham and put it in the bottom of your bowl. Take the oats off the stove, mix in the apple, and dump the whole thing in your bowl over the ham. Sprinkle heavily with cinnamon. Heaven.

    Protein berry smoothie

    I buy frozen berries and use them when I need them. On a protein berry smoothie morning, fill a large bowl with frozen strawberries and raspberries and defrost them slightly in the microwave. Dump them in your food processor and add frozen blueberries, soy milk, and a giant scoop of soy protein powder. You can also add a scoop of creatine if you’re working to build muscle. Don’t add orange juice! Too many super-sugars, and you will find the berries are plenty sweet enough. Lovely.

    Eggables omelette crammed with veggies

    I use Eggables (or the generic grocery version) in cartons because they have less fat than regular eggs. Shake the carton and pour a layer into a medium-sized preheated iron skillet. The mix should sizzle going in. Grind fresh pepper over it, and leave it to cook on medium while you wash and chop half a box of mushrooms. Put mushrooms in a giant bowl with about 4 cups of fresh spinach leaves in the microwave with a plate over the top to hold in steam and wilt it all down. I throw in some chopped onions too (I keep some in a baggie in the fridge). Your omelette should be cooked through; slide it out onto a plate, peel a stick of mozzarella string cheese over it if you like, and pile the veggies on top. You might be able to fold the monster, but you might not. Powerful!

    Cottage cheese with red pears, raspberries, and almonds

    I’m lactose intolerant so I don’t eat this as much, but I take a tablet for that if I am going to have this breakfast. Chop half a red pear, half an apple, and a full cup of defrosted raspberries into your bowl with a cup of cottage cheese. Top with chopped almonds. Pure pleasure.

    Image credit: http://futuristmovies.com