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.
I think Benjamin and Joseph and others around the gym were a little taken aback by how eagerly my crew, 30 and 40 something ex-punkers, junkies and alkies all of us, stepped in the ring with Jeff, who is a scary prospect -- big, strong and surprisingly quick handed. I explained to Benjamin and Joseph that we weren't your average white boys. None of us had escaped the traumas that life can deal out and some of us seemed a bit like magnets for them. Which may have something to do with our enthusiasm for the fight. And with Ben and Joe's enthusiasm for us.
What's the attraction? Life gets pretty elemental in a boxing ring. Senses are heightened, energy that may have been anxiety over things beyond one's control just an hour ago gets focused and directed, the mind weirdly clears even as it's assaulted by a host of sensations -- fear, anger, aggression, adrenaline... courage, perhaps. And like anything that pushes you out of your comfort zone, there's a tremendous feeling of accomplishment for merely having stepped there.
Last night my friend, Mke, who's a manster (half man/ half monster) with a vicious hook to the body, may have cracked my ribs during a pretty heated sparring match. I woke up this morning, after a night of sweats and chills from the pain, called him and told him I hate him...But he knows the truth. In a weird way, I couldn't be happier.
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Nice article bud, was a very interesting read :) I've been interested in starting boxing when day in the future, but am unsure about it, but everyone who does it seems to love it - so maybe I'll try it!
Posted on December 9, 2007 5:03 PM by Oliver Charles