Hitting that wall...

I think the weekend started badly when I decided to cycle home from work on Friday night, although it seemed a good idea at the time. Running a pub means late nights, especially at the weekend, and on a Friday night trying to get a cab after the trains have stopped can be a long, tedious experience. So why not cycle home and get some extra exercise in on the way...?

When I was first nominated to join the White Collar Boxing the first thing I did was call my then 8-month pregnant wife to seek her blessing. She had just one question for me - "Does that mean you won't be drinking for a few months?"

The ride home was uneventful, with less traffic on the roads than on my other trips, and when I got home I felt kind of self-satisfied and a little buzzed. That buzz kept me awake a bit longer than I could have done with, but when I finally fell asleep it was a good, solid, deep sleep... so deep that I slept through my 5.45am alarm...

During the initial weeks of training my wife would encourage me to break my diet, with a "go on, you've worked so hard - one beer won't hurt!", until I finally asked her why she seemed so unsupportive of my efforts. She responded simply that: a) she wasn't sure of my commitment; and b) she thought maybe that offering me 'rewards' for my hard work was one way to show support... so we talked through what she could do to help me stay on track, and since then she has been a total rock.

Not my real alarm clock. Why
would I take a picture of that?

When I did wake up it was 6.42am, and I was due at the gym in twenty minutes. For the first time since starting the WCB I actually toyed with missing the session, but my now-supportive wife chipped in with words of encouragement. Well, that'll teach me! Still disoriented and sleepy, I tried to do some subtle stretches on the train, but the rocking motion wasn't helping and I swear I almost dozed off upright at one stage. I then power-walked from the station to the gym, trying to put on my wraps as I went, with only varying degrees of success. 

I know some of the other contenders are still enjoying Friday nights out, so when we were told that this particular Saturday morning would be a sparring session I felt pretty optimistic. I knew I would have had my own late night, but assumed my sobriety would give me a clear-headed advantage in the ring. However, when I arrived to find them all at various stages - some prepping with partners or on the bags; some in the ring sparring; some, having already sparred, stretching and dissecting their performance - everyone seemed pumped. Everyone except me.

I grabbed a couple of minutes on a bag, and one of the other lads took pity and paired with me for some warm up work, but I had only been in the gym five minutes when I was told to put the headgear on and get in the ring - last man up, so more than a few eyes on me.

John C. Reilly. Just because I
needed a quote about being
unprepared. Cheers John!

"Being unprepared makes me nervous. I'm old-fashioned show folk."

John C. Reilly

I'm old-fashioned show folk myself. After years of acting and playing music, I am still uncomfortable with improvisation and like to know my lines / lyrics backwards before going anywhere near a stage. Much like Mr Reilly, being unprepared makes me nervous - and, boy, did the nerves hit me on entering that ring. I looked across and recognised my opponent as someone I had done some pair work with a week prior. I remembered him having a fairly solid punch (and being 10 kilos heavier than me), but being a little slow and lacking aggression. I could still feel butterflies, but maybe this wouldn't be too bad...

How wrong can you be? Pardon my language, but he battered the f*** out of me. I was totally gun-shy and kept turning away in fear, which only served to take my eyes off where I should be punching and, more crucially, where his next swing was coming from. I was spot on about him having a solid punch, but his speed was more than adequate to despatch me, and there was certainly no timidness in his desire to do so. That was quite possibly the longest two minutes of my life...

And this is what I drank.
Because if I am going to
break my drouth, it won't
be for any old pish!

I left training that day dejected. It all just seemed like it was too much, all that hard work and effort, training and maintaining an appropriate diet, for what? The chance for pain and humiliation? I sank back into some comfort food, had a whisky (just the one, honest!), and spent the rest of the weekend wallowing in self-pity.

My wife occasionally makes dumb comments. It's one of her most endearing qualities to me, and makes me laugh. But I laugh not because she is a muppet, but because I find it funny to hear daft things come from someone so incredibly smart... smart enough to know how to manipulate me, in particular!

No matter how hard I tried, the black cloud hovering over me ruined a rare date night on Saturday, and threatened to derail a family cinema outing on the Sunday. But all throughout the turbulence, my wife kept dropping subtle hints about the people who were supporting me and how proud she was of me. She cut me some slack with food choices at dinner, but used healthy cinema snacks for our son to guilt me away from jumbo sized popcorn. She brought up her own post-pregnancy efforts in the gym, and used them to enquire about my future training. She effectively got me back on that horse... and I am not sure I could have done it without her.

Monday's session was tough, but mostly because I was still shaking off the residue of my disenchantment. Then on Wednesday we were back to sparring again... and imagine my horror at finding myself paired with someone 20 kilos heavier than! But this time was different. I felt ready - not to go in there and win, but to go in and learn. Sure, he got in some good hits, but this time I actually took them and didn't turn tail. And I got a few decent jabs in myself, earning a modicum of praise from the Coach at my improvement. 

I couldn't find an appropriate
Sun Tzu quote, so I went for
the next best thing...

I have a long way to go, there is no doubt of that. But one thing I need to do is what my wife resolved to do a couple of weeks back - to stop viewing the WCB as something I am merely trying to do and get behind the fact that it is something I am wholeheartedly doing. After all, sometimes the best lessons are learned from someone who can be a bit of a muppet!

"Do... or do not. There is no try."

Master Yoda

See what I mean?