"Oof! Ohh!"

As usual when we're in the break time between sessions, the crowds thin out a little.  Professor came in briefly, sparred with Kenny, then left.  Colonel was in for a minute, too, then he departed.  Amy and Renee were there, but neither wanted to spar.  Amy had planned to spar with her sister Sarah, but her sister didn't come in, so Amy said she'd wait until Wednesday.  Nathaniel and Jesus both sparred with Kenny, who gave them tips on how to improve their game. 

Alan and I sparred, which we hadn't done in a long time.  I was proud of myself for catching several of his underhanded jabs before they connected.  I also cracked him with a few hooks, an uppercut, and some rights.  He got me with something, and I slipped, fell, and rolled backwards.  He had to help me up off of the canvas.  Then Alan figured out that he could catch me with body shots, and he used them often.  I covered up against one shot coming in, but did not anticipate there would be a kidney shot behind it.  "Oof!" I went, as I covered up too late and backed up.  I came to a stop near the ropes and went "Ohh!" 

I haven't taken very many body shots over the years.  I remember Carlos gave me one that darn near stopped me a couple of years ago.  Amanda got in some when we sparred several weeks ago.  My head usually takes the brunt of the punishment.  I think I'd rather go with the head shots, because I can (mostly) shake those off.  Body shots aren't easy to work past.  "Are you okay?" Alan said, after he rushed over to hug me as I leaned on the ropes.  "I'm okay", I said, but it was a few seconds before the action continued.  I managed to finish out that round, which was my third.

After several minutes, Alan asked me again if I was okay, which he always does.  "I'll really feel it two days from now, and wonder why I'm in pain.  Then I'll remember: 'Alan hit me!'" I laughed. 

Alan mentioned that he had his ribs broken during a match, but he continued on.  I believe that was the fight that Alan took on when he was in his late 40s; at the time, he hadn't been in a boxing match since he was in his mid twenties. He had gotten the fight based on a casual conversation he had with Johnny B., who's a local fight promoter.  "What in the world made you take on that fight at that time?" Kenny asked.  Alan shook his head and said he figured he was up for it.

Kenny talked about fighting guys in their 50s who were still trying to be slick in the ring.  "Once people get that old, they have to realize they can't do that slick stuff they were doing 30 years ago," he pointed out.  Don't I know it, I thought to myself.  When I first started to box, I could move around the ring a lot better and faster than I do now.  I remember sparring for four and five rounds at a time.  But that was ten years ago. 

I remembered that Monday would have been my younger brother's birthday.  He passed away from heart failure at age twenty-two. He was not a big sports fan, even though our late dad tried to get him interested (mostly in baseball and football).  Baby brother may have thought I was a nut for fighting, but he might have cheered me on anyway, telling people, "She used to beat me up when we were kids."