LA Weekly

In one of those not-surprising-at-all things you find yourself doing when you reach a certain point in your life -- a point often accompanying entry into middle-agedom, when things are suddenly turned upside down, when you realize you don't control much, if anything at all, and you're not quite sure what's up or down -- I've started boxing.

I started with a few friends who began going to this gym, California Kickboxing and Fitness in Pasadena (Cakickboxing.com). Forget what you're thinking. This is a place that can be a serious as you want it to be. It's run by Joseph Del Real, whose mixed martial arts pedigree is too long to go into. And our boxing instructor is Benjamin Martinez, a former pro who went on to be a WBC supervisor and is now a serious trainer. These guys are frighteningly good at their disciplines, but what makes the place great is that they are both really cool, regular guys. They grew up around here, love to crank punk rock, Joy Division and great music during workouts and get really stoked when they see folks of any age, or size, who are stoked to learn.

At first, my friends and I were just going to get in shape and a boxing workout is one of the most brutal workouts you can imagine. My initiation was shocking. After the first workout, I thought I might pass out. During the first few weeks, I'd come home with my body quivering and trembling with fatigue and lay in bed quivering. The next day, I'd feel like I'd been run over by a truck.

That's gotten a little better. But something else happened, too. We all started getting stoked on the art of boxing itself. Six of us started going regularly, taking the instruction seriously, working on our own and generally absorbing the vibe. As the gym was preparing four of its fighters for a big amateur match, called a Smoker, one of its fighters, a 240lb, bear of a heavyweight named Jeff, needed sparring rounds to get ready.

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Sorry it's been so long. It's been really, really long. I've been in a situation that I wouldn't wish on anybody, namely getting divorced. There's no way to sum up what it's like in a neat post, but I'll just say that I've wanted to spare my readers, all five of you, from what would likely have been an excess of feelings. Not to mention, the other party involved deserves some privacy. Having said all that, I do have to say that this is a process and a time when one really learns the value of friendship and when everything you've done in your life to be good to your friends comes back to you exponentially. I can't say enough about the value of friendship and about how kind and understanding friends, colleagues and even people you barely know can be.

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