Me Sparring While Middle-Aged and Slow

In this photo, Alan watches Brandy and Geniece spar, while Jason works out with the wheel on the apron of the ring.

Geniece was tough.  Brandy popped her in the head and face, but Geniece kept going forward.  I was thinking, "If I was hit like that, I would have been on the canvas."  In fact, I remember nearly falling to the canvas a couple of years ago when Brandy caught me with a right.  Alan caught me before I fell completely down.

I sparred with Brandy for four rounds, but I wasn't prepared at all.  She had been gone from the gym for about a year before returning.  But Brandy had lost nothing in that time.  After the first round, Brandy asked me, "Are you awake?"  I was plodding around and not returning punches well.  She said she would go lighter for the next round.  I still didn't move any faster.  "Catch her up against the ropes," Alan told me, but I couldn't do it.  Every time I tried, Brandy came forward, raining down jabs and rights on me.

Brandy got me in the stomach, and my head and face didn't fare any better.  I tried to sneak in some overhand rights, but just as I thought to throw them, she would be too close to do them properly.  My left eye took about three hard rights.  Afterwards, I looked in the mirror.  My eye was red, and my vision was a little impaired.  Afterwards, I had to sit down for awhile.

Kenny came in.  "I'm 170 pounds!  See?  I've got to get this off," he told me.  I had talked to his dad, Colonel, on the phone earlier. Colonel wasn't feeling well, so he didn't come to the gym.  But Kenny came in with another timer, since the one in the gym has been acting up.  "I'm surprised to see all these people in here.  I need to come in earlier so I get some time on the bags," Kenny said.

Katie was on the bag just as Keith walked in the gym.  Kenny not only sparred with Keith, but he coached him, too.

Jason wanted me to throw the medicine ball around with him, but I had no energy.  I don't think he asked anyone else, because I didn't see him with the ball.  He could have asked Igor, but Igor didn't seem to be in much of a social mood.  But then, Igor doesn't usually appear that way.  The relationship between Igor and I these days seems to be similar to the one between Basil and Manuel on the 1970's British sitcom, "Fawlty Towers".

"The only thing that will help Hillari is a osteopathic doctor, but she won't go see one," Alan commented later.  "There's not much that can be done for arthritis," I said.  "Yeah, but Hillari, something is torn in your left leg," Alan said.  He's probably right.  I worry about the discomfort becoming permanent since I can't really afford to see a doctor for that issue. I made an appointment to have my prescriptions refilled, and I'm cringing about how much that might set me back financially.  Like people say, if it isn't one thing, it's another.