He Keeps Going and Going. . .

When I got to the gym, only Alan and a colleague of his, Patty, were inside. "Where is everybody?" I asked. "Maybe the rain is keeping them away," Alan supposed. It was about twenty minutes before anyone else got there. Ricky's sons arrived first.

Carlos sparred with both of Ricky's sons. Ricky had a pair of gloves on. "Are you going into the ring?" I smiled. "Oh, no! I'm perfectly willing to be the parent who encourages the kids to participate," he laughed. The boys didn't do bad at all against Carlos.

It was my turn to step into the ring with Carlos. He and I had not sparred before. Carlos didn't hit as hard as he could have, but then, I wasn't hitting him hard, either. He willingly gave me some openings to get punches in, but by the middle of the second round, I was moving like an old turtle. Carlos was light on his feet, which was amazing, considering he had just gone several rounds with Ricky's sons. Carlos is like the Energizer Bunny whenever he's in the ring.

Carlos' son Justin gave both his dad and I curious looks when we came out of the ring. He said something like, "Dad, you fought the girl?" The little guy is funny to me.

It seems that I have fewer hand wraps than I did before. Some of them were given away -- I gave Jamil a pair, and I think I gave either Sadiq or JJ a pair awhile ago. I have a black pair that Country (Mike) gave me a couple of years ago, a couple of red wraps, and some blue wraps. The blue wraps are mismatched. One is from Ringside and I think the other is Everlast. Who knows how I misplaced the hand wraps. The blue ones are for kids's and women's hands, and they are shorter.

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I prefer the longer wraps because of the extra padding -- and protection -- they give my hands. There are many ways to wrap the hands to sort of cut down on injuries (but not completely). As a middle-aged person, plus being a writer and currently working as a church secretary, I have to be particularly careful about my hands.

Back To Sparring

Oscar and I sparred last night, and he has become greatly improved. He got me with many combinations. I got winded early, and it showed. Remember, I hadn't been sparring for awhile, not since Ieisha scored a TKO on me about a month ago. My mouthpiece was choking me. Alan ran water over it, and he was going to put it back in, but I declined it. I have to get used to wearing it again. "Keep your mouth closed," Alan told me.

I was popped in the mouth, and I tasted blood. After the two rounds were done, I asked Alan if I was bleeding, and he didn't see any red. This morning, I noticed a small cut inside my lower lip. That's the second time I've been cut open in the ring.

My eyes looked puffy too. Upon closer inspection, it looked more like signs of aging, a series of wrinkles/crows' feet forming. That was how Dad looked around the eyes the older he became. Today would have been his 76th birthday. I can still hear him laughing when he learned that I box.

I learned that Alan is about 10 years older than I. I remembered that Steve, the former coach, was about 12 years younger than me. I've now had the pleasure of getting boxing wisdom from both an older man and a younger man.

Alan sparred with the younger of his cousin Ricky's sons last night. I was relieved to see that he wore his headgear. I had just come off of sparring with Oscar, so I sat on one of the stools ringside to watch. Alan popped the kid a bit hard in the face. "I'm sorry!" he told him. "What are you trying to do, Alan? Kill him?" I joked. Later, Alan asked me, "Was I hitting him very hard?" "No, just that one time you caught him," I assured him. "I'm an old man, so I can't out slick guys in the ring anymore. I have to rely on my hands to keep them off of me," he explained.

I've been thinking about having a heavy bag in the house for some time. I have a plastic, inflatable bag that I brought from Everlast. It's okay, but it reminds me of that pop-up clown bop bag I had when I was a little girl. I can't hang one up in the apartment, but I could get a stand alone one, like a Cobra bag. If I had a heavy bag, I could also go back to practicing my martial arts moves. It's been a while since I've been in a martial arts class, but I still remember the techniques. Muscle memory is a beautiful thing.

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Blasts From A Left And The Past

Ieisha and I sparred last night. "I don't have a mouthpiece, so don't hurt me too much," she joked. I agreed to go light. After taking a long bike ride up to Fort Sheridan the day before, my knees weren't in the best shape. Since I couldn't move as fast, I had to rely more on punching. I also had to watch out for Ieisha's punches, which I thought I was doing better than I did before.

Alan noted that I wasn't hitting hard. "She's breathing hard, too. Get in there," he told me. I also thought I was covering myself up better, although Ieisha got me with some good body punches during round one. During round two, I should have remembered that Ieisha can fight southpaw. She caught me across the bridge of my nose with a punch, and I backed up. Each time I came in, I went more for the body then for the head. The hooks weren't getting in well.

She caught me in the face with her left, and I was stunned. It was my intent to shake it off and keep going. My legs decided they were done, and they buckled under me. I found myself looking up at the lights in the ceiling. "I'm fine, I'm fine," I told Alan from my prone position on the canvas. "Stay down, stay down," he told me. After a few moments, I sat up. It was another few minutes before I could stand up.

Carlos sparred with Ralphie. I noticed a guy standing near the ring watching them. I was surprised to see that it was Jamie. Jamie used to come to the gym during the first year I started going there. It was good to see him. He told me he ran into Steve a few months before. Jamie told me that he was coming back to the gym on Wednesday.

Oscar and Leon went up against each other again. Earlier in the evening, Leon was joking with Oscar. "What? What did you say?" he said menancingly to him. We all laughed about that. I continue to give Oscar credit. He took several hard hits in the head from Leon, who is literally a giant over him.

Alan asked Ieisha and I about perhaps getting matches this Friday at Garfield Park's boxing show. The coach was trying to guess our weights and heights. "You're about 140, right?" he asked me. "I wish! The last time I checked, I came in at 179," I answered. I know that's too big for someone who stands five foot one. I've been losing weight at a good rate, but I need to lose more.

Cut weight with the women's sauna suit by Everlast.

This morning, I told the Pastor I needed to get aspirin from the first aid kit in his office. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Oh, I got knocked out last night," I casually answered. "Hillari, Hillari", Pastor lightly admonished, shaking his head as I followed him down the hall to his office.

"I'm a pretty tough built chick, Pastor," I laughed. "Don't you think you might have a concussion?" he asked, as he took a seat in front of his computer. "Probably. I wouldn't be surprised," I said. "If you still have a headache after taking the aspirin, maybe you should go to the doctor and get checked out. If you have some real damage, you could die the next time you get hit," he said, his face serious. "Coach was talking about getting a match for me this Friday, but maybe I'd better re-think that. After a knockout, a boxer is supposed to take off for awhile," I answered.

Repetitive Injury

My upper left arm had been hurting for over a week. Finally I went to my friendly MD this morning, who ruled out anything serious. "It's probably a muscle injury from throwing left jabs in the gym," he said. He suggested that I get a heating pad, and keep him notified in case things get worse. The pain flared up as I was hitting the heavybags last night, but like I always do, I ignored the pain and kept going.

Candace and Steve did some light sparring, with me calling out instructions to Candace from outside of the ring. He gave her a lot of attention last night, which will be cut short next week when the new crop of people come in for the fall session. We'll only be in the gym on Wednesday of next week; the gym is closed next Friday because of the annual fieldhouse boxing show. I still haven't practiced "The Star-Spangled Banner", which I'll sing to open the show. I need to get on it.

Everlast is one of the sponsors of the World Boxing Championship that is coming to town next month, so they hooked us up with a lot of new equipment. There were boxes of stuff when I arrived last night. The idea of the tournament organizers is that the international boxers would go to local Chicago gyms to workout while they are here. The new equipment will be nice for them to use. Steve hung up the double-end bag last night, and it feels fine. JJ was grumbling about a pair of the new bag gloves: "They're too fuckin' tight!" I told him all the new stuff will take time to break in.

Only Candace, JJ, Ben, Steve and myself were in the gym last night. I came in late because I had to go to my regular visit with my foot doctor first. Couldn't go home to change because I had to attend a mid-afternoon meeting at the main downtown office of my job, so I was carrying my gear with me. I changed into a white T-shirt and dark shorts right after the meeting. Les gave me a double look when he saw me. No, I was not going to the fundraising auction that was taking place after the meeting (which is why the meeting was scheduled when it was). Couldn't justify paying the high ticket prices, nor afford to bid on anything. It was not in my budget.

Everlast Outfitting

G came in with a list on Friday of all the equipment that Everlast wants to give to the gym. A major world boxing competition is coming to Chicago in October, a sort of precursor to the Olympics games that the city hopes to host. Everlast, the oldest boxing equipment company in the world, has offered to donate stuff to the Chicago Park District boxing gyms. We would get gloves, mitts, heavy bags and whole lot of other brand new items. It's just a matter of figuring out where to put it all when it comes.

Steve kept saying he wasn't feeling well, and he planned to go home early. Yet, he stayed until almost the end of the evening. Graubien brought his wife, four daughters, and a friend of his daughters to the gym. I saw the girls peering in, and thinking they were just kids hanging around, I asked if they were interested in the sport. They just smiled back. Later I learned that none of them speak English. Graubien was finally able to bring them all up from Mexico, and get their immigration papers in order. Steve let a couple of the girls put gloves on and do a mock sparring session.

Then two other kids walked in, a boy and a girl. When kids see other kids in the gym, they assume it's allright for them to be there, too. "No hitting the bags," I warned those two. I explained to them the procedure they'd have to follow to join the youth boxing program. "Why are those kids in the ring?" the boy asked. "Because their father is here to watch them," I told him.

Steve read the story I had written which was printed in True Love magazine, which just hit the newsstand last week. True Love is one of the many "confession story" magazines that you see on newsstands, full of stories with titles such as "I Faked My Death To Get Away His Torture" and "Left At The Altar By A Two-Timing Groom". He liked it. I made a copy of it for Les to read. Les told me he read -- and liked -- the story I wrote that was published in True Experience a couple of months ago. I have to make a copy of that story for Steve to read.