It was another no sparring day for me last night at the gym. My left hand and arm are still not performing up to par, so I wisely begged off from getting into the ring.
Alfred was sparring with Alan. He was not committing totally to a lot of his punches, especially the jab. I have the same problem, basically because I worry about really hurting someone. I know that's silly, given that boxing is partially about inflicting pain. Alfred had sparred earlier, with Josh, I believe, and both men were stiff. Alan kept telling Alfred to "stay loose".
Carlos got in the ring with Leon. Leon wore him down, but Carlos remained in the ring until the rounds were over. At one point, Carlos was on all fours on the canvas, crawling around, dead tired. But he got back up and into the game.
"None of the women showed up," Alan said later as he drove me home. "It's not like any of them were hurt." "You're right. I was the only one who got knocked out," I laughed, but that wasn't entirely true. I had forgotten about Maggie, whom I knocked out a few weeks before. I called my friend Linda, who was at home recovering from a fall. I told her about me being laid out in the gym. She gasped. "Maybe I'm getting too old to keep taking hits like that," I said. "You have to be careful. Girl, don't do that anymore," Linda said. Paulette, a fellow church-goer, had told me that perhaps I should concentrate more on the coaching aspect of boxing instead of the fighting aspect.
It keeps crossing my mind. But I made a promise to myself that I would stop competing and sparring when I turn 50 years old. That won't be until 2011. I figure that if I still feel good enough to fight between now and then, I might as well. I still have to figure my weight loss goals into that. While I was out running errands today, a guy trying to get a date with me asked if I was pregnant. Last night in the gym, I kept looking at my pot in the mirror. I really need to do something about that.
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