But last week, I left sparring class with a different feeling: defeat. And that left a sour taste in my mouth that I couldn't wait to get rid of.
On Monday, I returned to practice with resolve in my eyes and a bit of fire under my ass.
"What happened last Friday wasn't going to happen again. And if it did, I would be able to hold my head high, knowing I did everything I could to prevent it from happening," I told myself.
What followed was the best cumulative week of pad work, light sparring, conditioning and heavy bag striking I've had yet. My punches were crisper. My head movement was faster. I was actually remembering to block my opponent's strikes. Stuff was making sense, for a change. There was little thinking and more doing. And it felt great. Even James commented during our regular mid-week training session that I looked like a completely different boxer.
That was music to my ears. But I knew my real test was Friday. Sparring night.
Posted by Dayton History Fight Night on Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Entering the dojo that night, I felt oddly calm. To the other Fight Night participants, I might not have seemed like I was the personification of tranquil, focused aggression due to my constant pacing and short replies, but the truth was, I felt relaxed. But in boxing, it's natural for that feeling to vanish in a split second. On Friday night, it took about 20 seconds.
My first sparring opponent, Larry, who stands an imposing 6-3, 270 lbs. or so, delivered a dizzying right cross that wobbled me, less than 30 seconds into our bout. I staggered across the ring, frantically trying to regain my balance. I was dazed and confused. But I refused to go down, instead, continuing the round, attempting to be as aggressive as I could against Larry's noticeable size advantage. It was a tough lesson in remembering to keep my hands up, while tucking my chin and staying mobile. Easier said than done, clearly.
The next round was against Joe, a trainer with a specialized background in boxing. Joe began our fight inviting me to push him against the ropes and work him over with body shots.
"Use your shoulder! That's it, there you go! Pace yourself, now,” Joe said.
My advantage was short-lived. After enduring a bundle of body hooks, shovel punches and over-hand rights, Joe peppered me with series of punches called the "Ali Shoeshine."
It looks something like this:
http://youtu.be/SWIqakxbyN8
It sounded like a machine gun. Still, I didn't collapse, and I finished out the round, panting like a dog after long walk.
Two more rounds, against Fight Night participants followed with mixed results. I felt like I gave almost as much as I got in those rounds. It was a long, successful night that featured more punches taken than landed.
Still, I left the dojo with a feeling of growth. You're going to get hit when you box. That much is a given. How you respond, on the other hand, is up to you.
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>> Dayton Fight Night training, Week 2: Getting back on the horse
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