Sparring With the Professor

After he sparred with Jamil, Professor and I went for three rounds.  I used up a lot of energy throwing punches that did not connect.  Professor was very agile, and he turned away from most of them.  At least my jab was better, according to Alan.  Professor was dancing around a lot, and I tried to stay on my toes to match his movements.  It was to no avail.  "My old behind is not going to get anywhere chasing this young man around the ring," I thought to myself. I was plodding after awhile, and running our of stamina. 

When the 30-second bell rings, Alan always points it out to the fighters.  Then he says stuff like, "You're almost home, you've only got a few seconds," when actually, it's more time left than the boxer knows.  "You always say that," I told Alan while trying to keep my eye on Professor.  "It's a lie," he grinned.  "I know," I grinned back. 

After taking the usual break to cool down the hot flashes, Alan told me, "Give me four rounds on the bags."  I ended up doing five, and the last one was a burn-out.  There are so many things to remember, and I was trying to keep up with them all -- footwork, hand positioning, proper form, correct throwing of punches, etc. -- while doing that.  It was a good workout.

I was somewhat impressed that I was able to move as much as I was.  Earlier in the day, I fell down some stairs again in church.  Missed the last step and went flying.  I got up quickly, but I had bumped both knees and landed in an awkward position.  My left leg was turned in a funny way.  I thought about the fall Alan took, and asked him if his leg was better.  "It still hurts," he said.  "Have you gone to the doctor yet?" I asked.  "No, but I'll go," he answered.  "Why is it that men will not go to the doctor?" I wondered.  "Because we think we can heal ourselves," Alan said.