Fighting and Faith

After finally getting my taxes done late this afternoon, I took a long walk from Howard Street up to the gym.  Alan was suited up, but I ended up sparring again with Kenny.  Kenny gave me some extremely good pointers after we did a couple of rounds.  First of all, I have a bad habit of not aiming my jab at someone's face.  Kenny was easily able to avoid it by slipping the jab and countering with a right.  I don't move my head (something that Alan also has pointed out before), and that makes me an easy target. 

"You have good body shots.  You know how to box, Hillari. You hit very hard for a female.  That's why I was moving out of the way a lot.  I got hit with one of your body shots, and I was like (expletive deleted)!" Kenny said.  Alan agreed with him.  Kenny continued,  "Since you're short, you should hit from angles."  He asked why I didn't throw hooks.  "I try, but I never seem to be close enough to get any off," I answered.  "You can throw them either close up or from a wide angle", he said, showing me how its done.  We had gotten on the black heavy bag, and Kenny asked me to show him how I throw the hooks.  "That's good!  Why don't you use that?  You should use that!" Kenny exclaimed.

Greg, who hadn't been at the gym for a long time, came in to do a light work out with two of his friends, Robert and another new guy who's name I didn't get, but I will the next time I see him.  Robert and the other new guy plan to take their physical exam with the police department.  They've already taken the written exam.  Other guys present were Derek, Frank, Ray, and Colonel.  Oscar works on Wednesdays, so he's not able to come in on those days. 

Robin did not come in, but Erica and Sarah did.  I forgot to mention to Alan that Sarah has sparred before.  She was another person whose long arms I could not figure out how to get around.  However, with the advice from Kenny, I may now have an edge. 

Alan had told Josh a few weeks ago as we were leaving the field house, "Hillari's knows about the faith", in response to a joke Josh made. . .something about making me Jewish.  Alan and I had another interesting conversation about religion tonight after the gym let out.

It was prompted by me saying, "Pastor Roger's going to talk about me."  "Why?" Alan queried.  "I was talking about perhaps becoming ordained as a wedding officiant.  I was thinking about picking up some extra funds presiding over weddings.  Pastor's conservative.  . .doesn't believe women should be pastors," I answered.  I had seen some churches online that would be willing to ordain people for free.  I can also see Pastor Roger admonishing me if I show up at church with a ordination certificate.  I had joked with the Pastor earlier about preparing a sermon to preach at my church.  As usual, Pastor Roger gave me a look that said, "This chick is nutty." Alan and I hadn't talked about religion in awhile, and I missed those conversations.  I always learn something else about Judaism that I did not know before. I tell Pastor about those conversations from time to time.  Alan once joked and said, "He might think I'm trying to convert you!"

Spring Newbies and Old Faces

While waiting for Alan to come in, several of us were out in the hallway at Loyola Park, including the new people who showed up for the first day of the spring session.  One of the women, Erica, said that her boyfriend had came to the gym in the past.  He told her that it was alright.  It didn't occur to me to ask who her boyfriend was.  Later on, Matthieu, a Frenchman who used to work out there, came in.  "I'm here to see her," he said, pointing at Erica.  "Oh, you're the boyfriend she was talking about!" I exclaimed.  He has signed up again, and will be in soon.

Robin, another new person who looked to be closer to mine and Alan's age, came in.  "I just want to get in shape.  I think it's a good idea to learn how to throw a punch.  If someone messes with me, I'd like to not fight like a girl.  You know, with the arms flaying in the air," she said.  Neither Erica nor Robin were keen on sparring.

A couple of faces from the past were in the place:  Tommy and Sarah, both of whom used to come in when Steve was the coach.  Sarah used to have long brown hair; she's cut it short.  Tommy's still trying to manage his schedule so he can come back to the gym.   Both he and Sarah asked about JJ, whom I haven't seen in awhile.  "I came in and recognized no one except you," Sarah grinned. 

Kenny and I sparred, and he is quick.  I did catch him once with an overhand right.  That was after I tried to throw a right and slipped and fell to the canvas.  That has been happening too often when I spar.  It makes me feel like the overly clumsy little girl I once was (and I have the scars to prove that).  After our two rounds, he told me he figured I would use that punch sooner or later, because he always notices that I practice throwing it. "You throw that punch well," he said.  He worked with Oscar, Jacob, and another new guy, Derek, on a defensive drill.  They had to block against the one-two-three (jab, right, left hook). 

The place was packed.  I overheard Jacob and Hector joking about how now they would have to take numbers and wait in lines to use the bags and shadow box in the mirrors.  Hector was sparring with Oscar, I believe, when one of his contact lenses slipped and went further up into his left eye.  Eventually, it came back to where it should be, and I was glad. 

My middle and lower back feels a little sore now.  Sigh. . .I think a lot of that is due to how I sleep at night.  I try to sleep on my back, but I tend to favor sleeping on my right side.  Throughout the night, I'm in all kinds of crazy positions, and then here lately, I've been rolling out of the bed onto the floor.  Maybe I'm fighting opponents in my sleep?

Boxing's Problems In My Opinion

I was reading an article in The Ring about a bit of feuding between Top Rank Promotions and Golden Boy Promotions involving the possibility of a fight between J.C. Chavez Jr. and Miguel Cotto.  The writer of the article, Ivan Goldman, stated, ". . .feuds are dumb.  And they hurt business."  He's right.  More dissension is not needed in boxing.  Instead, many improvements are needed:

1.  A national boxing commission, the idea of which has been brought up by ESPN boxing analyst Teddy Atlas and Sen. John McCain many times.  It would cut down on professional boxers who shouldn't be fighting for various reasons including major health issues and loaded hand wraps, for example, attempting to get their licenses reinstated by commissions in different states whom they think will help their cause.  If everyone is on the same page concerning the rules, then the sport is safer and fair for everyone.

2.  One definite champ for each category.  There was a time in boxing history when this was the case.  Somewhere down the line, all the alphabet sanctioning bodies (as The Ring magazine refers to them) got involved.  So we have several heavyweight champions, several middleweight champions, and so on.  A few years ago, I had a guy tell me that was why he didn't the follow the sport any more; it was too confusing to keep up with which boxer was at the top.

3.  Follow the lead of Cuba and other countries where boxing is regarded as a top-tier sport.  Cuba has long been known as having an excellent boxing program that trains up world class fighters.  I hear people complain that there are no major American heavyweight boxers, and most of the ones now are from the Ukraine and Russia.  Obviously those countries still have a major respect for pugilism.  Boxing used to have that kind of respect in the good ol' USA, but when was the last time you heard a major boxing match be the lead story on the sports segment of local or national newscasts?  Every once in awhile, I hear of some college that has a boxing program as part of their overall sports program, but that's rare.  I have yet to see the sport included in the physical fitness programs in grade and high schools (while the football, basketball, and soccer teams get top billing). Private gyms and city-run recreation centers offer boxing, but often times, the young people who really want and need to get to them can't afford to pay the gym fees. 

4.  Stop ignoring and dismissing the presence of women fighters, managers, promoters and trainers.  I've mentioned on this blog before that the road to being a professional female boxer is not smooth.  Males often start training younger and have more avenues to get experience.  Before the boxing analysts start complaining about the quality of some the female boxers they see, they need to think about that.  The boxing magazines rarely mention anything about female boxers, managers, promoters and trainers, and they certainly aren't doing full-blown articles about them.  Despite the fact that there are plenty of female boxers -- both amateurs and professionals -- some still treat the women as jokes, or worst yet, insinuate that they should stay in their place, wherever the hell that is.  A key to seeing that boxing survives is to acknowledge and celebrate everybody in it.  The "old boys club" mentality is so 20th century.

5.  Put boxing back on the TV networks.  Hey, if I'm not able to pay my cable bill for any reason, then I don't get to see any boxing matches on TV.  Don't get me started on those high pay-per-view fees for some of the bigger matches.  I listen to those older than me talk about boxing matches regularly aired on the major television networks (ABC, NBC, CBS) back in the day, and I envy them.    There has been efforts to have the major matches shown in movie theaters (Mayweather v. Mosley, for example), but not every movie house is -- or will -- show the fights.  That could be a reason why the audience for boxing has shrunk over the decades because the fights are not accessible to everyone who want to see them. Personally, I can do without the constant football/baseball/basketball go-round on the TV networks.

Round Two For Alan and I

Earlier in the day, I saw Ralphie on Lawrence Avenue.  I couldn't call to him because I was on the bus.  A few stops later, Boban got on and recognized me.  "I heard you have a fight coming up," I told him.  "Yeah, this Friday.  I'm going up to the gym right now," he said.  I wish I could see his fight, but money is tight right now.

The heat must be off at the field house.  It was cold in the gym to me until I started moving around.  I was the first one in, followed by Alan.  Alan complained that his right shoulder didn't feel right.  Colonel, who arrived next, had told him on Monday that the rotator cuff might be torn.  Tonight, he suggested that Alan get an MRI done.  Alan's not sure how he might have been injured.

It didn't stop him from sparring, however.  First, he was in the ring with Jacob, who's been improving each time he comes into the gym.  They did a couple of rounds, and then I got in with him.  I threw a left jab, and Alan caught it between his gloves, then fired back with a right.  That was a new move on me.  When I was close enough, I got body shots and some hooks in.  For the most part, I was on the receiving end -- once again -- of some full shots to the face and head.  I asked Alan about the sneaky catch of my jab after we were done, and he showed it to me again. I'll have to remember it.  "Should I bother to bob and weave at all when I'm fighting someone taller?" I asked.  "You have to fight on the inside because you can't fight someone with a reach on the outside.  You have to be always on the attack, so yes, bobbing and weaving is very beneficial," Alan told me.

I practiced bobbing and weaving as much as I could before my knees started protesting.  It was amazing that I was able to function at all, considering that I only had one hour of sleep.  Yesterday afternoon, I fell asleep around 4:00 PM, intending to get up after an hour or so.  The clock read 11:40 PM when I finally woke up.  At first, I was mad because I thought I missed the latest episode of "Lights Out", but fortunately, it was airing again at midnight.  Couldn't go to sleep after that, so I was up until 6:00 AM.  The scenario reminded me of my paternal grandmother, who napped a lot during the day.  I would be at her house and find her up, looking out of the window at two or three in the morning.  "Are you okay?" I'd ask, thinking she was ill.  "Nope, I just couldn't sleep," she'd answer.  My late dad once commented that she was always up at odd hours of the night.  It was probably due to taking siestas earlier in the day.  I now seem to be doing the same thing she was.

Leon, shown in the above picture in the dark shirt, came in with a female neighbor of his.  Leon sparred for a couple of rounds with Jacob.  His neighbor occupied herself by punching and kicking the heavy bags.

Jacob re-hydrates himself in this picture, after his sparring session with Leon.

In this picture, Colonel (on the left) and Ray have a conversation.  Ray asked me if I would help him with technique on the speed bag the next he came in.  He was good on it at one time, but has fallen out of practice.  I'll be happy to help him out.

"I'll go to bed as soon as I get home," I thought to myself.  Yeah, right.  I forgot that I had to eat something, and of course, watch some late night TV.  But I must get at least six hours of sleep tonight or I'll really be dragging tomorrow.

All Men and One Woman

"So this is the limbo period between sessions?" Alan asked.  The winter session ended last week; the spring session begins this upcoming Monday.  Professor, Jacob, and Colonel came in.  Also, a friend of Professor's, Ray, came by.

Jacob and Professor sparred.  Jacob commented that Professor got in a good shot to his mouth.  Later, Professor worked the pads with Jacob and also showed him how to move around the ring.  Colonel said that his arthritis was bothering him ("It sucks to get old," he kept saying) so he begged off of sparring, opting to shadow box in the mirrors instead.

Alan and I sparred, and as usual, he caught me right in the face with a punch.  He stopped for a moment, and rolled his eyes.  He didn't mean to hit me like that.  "Are you okay?" he asked.  "Yeah," I said, figuring it was good that I was still on my feet and conscious.  I was better at giving body shots this time around.  It's always hard to connect with Alan's face or head. "You need to spar with one of these younger guys who are slick in their movements. I can't move like that anymore," he said after we completed two rounds. Like Colonel, I was fighting the effects of arthritis, too.  My knees were crying a little. "Why do you stop after you get someone in the corner?" Alan asked. "I always feel like that I'm crowding them too much so that I can't effectively get any punches off," I answered.  Alan said that I should stay on opponents once I get them backed into a corner.

It appears that I'm stiff more often these days and for longer periods of time. My back was almost as stiff as my knees as I stretched out before getting into the workout. I could grumble that I'm too young to have problems moving around. But based on my age, and the fact I've put a lot of punishment on myself (ice skating, roller skating, in-line skating, and martial arts before boxing came along), I don't have much of an argument. 

The Middle Aged Folks Spar Again

It's the last week of the winter session, and the gym was quiet Monday night.  Alan, Jacob, Professor, myself, and Josh (Josh showed up the last 15 minutes of the evening).  Jacob and Alan sparred, and I called out instructions to Jacob.  "Throw that right all the way out," I told him, as I saw Alan winding up to throw an overhand right.  Alan got Jacob in the side of his face with a right at one point, and I gasped.  "I just slapped at him," Alan said.  Jacob got in a few good shots to Alan's middle, and a few to his head.

Alan and I sparred; it was the first time I sparred in two months.  I fell at one point, partially because I tripped over my own feet, and partially because Alan threw a good punch.  He had to help me up off of the canvas.  I threw a few hard punches during the first round, and Alan joked, "So. . .you want a piece of me?"  I took some more punches to my eyes and face before the sparring session ended after the second round.  "That's enough for your first time back," Alan said.  My knees were fine; I had gone to the doctor for a check-up earlier in the afternoon.  The doctor told me since I wasn't feeling any more major pain from January's car accident, there probably wasn't a need to have X-rays done.

Professor worked with Jacob on the pads, helping him throw his right hand better, as well as his hooks.  Josh walked in while they were doing that.  He wanted me to hold pads for him.  "Professor's got his on.  I'm tired.  I just got out of the ring with Alan," I told Josh.  Josh didn't ask Professor for time on the pads, however.  He did ask him to check his form on the bag, and Alan watched as well.  "I let you come in and just burn yourself out on the bag because you come in so late," Alan told Josh.  "That's fine for a workout, but if you want to learn the punches, you have to come in earlier, take your time, and slow down on the bags."

Feeling Old On Monday

Colonel was complaining about his hip.  It'll have to be replaced eventually, and he's not looking forward to it.  He told me about the long recovery he endured when he had the last one replaced.  I believed him.  Yet, he's a tough guy.  I heard him tell Alan "push me, even if I complain about the hip". 

I certainly felt like an old woman today.  I've been feeling like that most days for the past few weeks.  I've been fine in the morning, but dragging by the time afternoon rolls around.  I usually walk home from my job at church.  Halfway to the house, I'm plodding along as if I'm walking in mud.  Once I get home, I'm ready to go to sleep, and I often have a hard time keeping my eyes open.  If I do take a nap, I'm up most of the night.  Today in the mail was an advertisement for a book to help women who are going through perimenopause like myself.  It talked about fatigue, insomnia, and stubborn pounds not wanting to go.  "Hmm. . .sounds just like what I've been experiencing," I thought to myself.  The other night, I woke up to find my T-shirt was drenched in sweat.  Neither the radiators nor the space heater was on, and I was sleeping under a heat blanket that was not turned on.  I concluded that I had experienced night sweats.  It might be time to look harder into some herbal remedies to soothe some of the change-of-life symptoms.

Alan asked me if I wanted to spar, and I told him, "On Wednesday."  He sparred with Eric, who hit him pretty hard several times.  Leon came in and sparred with Professor, and Oscar sparred with the Colonel.  As I watched them, I kept wondering if my left knee will hold up when I get into the ring later this week.  It felt fine as I did stretches today, but I wasn't too sure.  The right knee took somewhat of a hit also back in January when I nearly ended up under the wheels of a car.  Both knees may fail me at the wrong moment in the ring.  I overheard Colonel talking about the arthritis in his knees.  I could sympathize with that, as I moved slower than usual around the heavy bag. 

Park District Cost Cutting

The gym wasn't open tonight.  The Chicago Park District decided to close their facilities today in an effort to cut costs.  Just so happens that today is also Casmir Pulaski Day, a holiday that is celebrated only in Chicago, I believe.  I was grumbling about the closure when I read it in the Red Line paper last week, thinking that it would put a dent in training time for the Golden Gloves.  But now that all the guys have lost their matches, it doesn't matter, at least not for that tournament anyway.

Kenny told me something the other day that I hadn't thought of before.  I told him I have diabetes, and it was recommended that I eat four to six small meals a day to keep the blood sugar even.  "That must it make it hard to cut weight for fights," Kenny said.  That's true, depending on what I eat, and unfortunately, I slip up from time to time and get food I shouldn't have.  Basically, I wouldn't wish diabetes on anyone.  Who wants to be told they can't eat this and that, especially sweets like they used to do? 

I've been thinking about working out in the church gym again, since I have a possible rematch with Andria coming up later this year.  My school schedule will be lighter this upcoming session, so I might be able to fit some extra exercise time in.  I need to do that anyway.  Ever since my knee was injured back in January, I've felt the pounds sneaking up on me. 

Found what I thought was a major steal on a used kettlebell the other day.  There's a shop called Play It Again Sports that sells mostly used sporting goods.  My main purpose was to buy a baseball bat to keep in my office at church.  Summer is coming, the gangs in the neighborhood have already started acting up, and there are times when I'm in the church alone.  'Nuff said. Pastor Roger shook his head when he heard about the baseball bat, as he also does whenever I tell stories where I advocate practicing self-defense.

In the shop, I saw a kettlebell with a price of $1.67.  "Alright!" I thought to myself.  Actually, it was $1.67 a pound, and the kettlebell was 25 pounds.  I have a few of those at home, but none above ten pounds.  I'd like to have heavier ones and do more kettlebell workouts to build muscle (especially to strengthen my bad knees) and to burn fat.

And Then There Were None

I napped a little too long this afternoon, and had to practically run out of my apartment to get to the Golden Gloves Saturday evening.  I walked in just as a little girl began to sing the National Anthem.  Once the song ended, I found Oscar and Kenny.  Alan hadn't arrived yet, so Kenny got Oscar's headgear and gloves.  Just as I suspected, Oscar's fight was scheduled early in the evening; his bout was the second one.  Alan arrived a short time later.

Oscar's opponent, Charlie Richardson out of Mango gym, was taller than he was.  "You're going to help in the corner, right?" Alan asked, but I replied, "It'll probably be better to have Kenny there to translate."  Oscar's English isn't so good, and the Spanish I learned in high school didn't stick well in my brain. I was hoping that Oscar wouldn't keep going for Richardson's head and concentrate more on body shots.  Unfortunately, Oscar had the fight stopped on him in the second round.

I saw Bill, the coach at Hamlin, who asked if I was okay.  He'd heard about me getting hit by a car back in January.  That accident cost me a rematch with Andrea at that time.  But Bill told me the rematch is still available.  We've got all spring and summer to prepare for it, as it won't take place until later in the year. I told him that I planned to start sparring again later this month, and that I was willing to take the rematch.

Kenny's fight was number nine of the evening.  It appeared that the people on his opponent's side were a little nervous when they learned their guy would be fighting Kenny.  "That's a good sign," I laughed.  But, alas, the laugh would be on us.  Kenny's opponent kept holding him, and Alan pointed that out to John, the referee.  Kenny was sort of forced into fighting the way his opponent wanted him to fight.  After awhile, the referee kept repeating to both fighters, "Don't hold, don't hold."  Kenny's opponent was awarded the win.

Before Professor's bout, Alan and I got some food from the cafeteria, and he treated me.  I only had a cheeseburger and a Diet Pepsi.  "You're a cheap date," Alan told me, and I laughed.  There was a cute little boy at the next table, who was sitting with his father.  He and I played "peek-a-boo" for a few moments while Alan and I ate.  Alan and I didn't linger too long because many of the matches seemed to be ending quickly, and we wanted to have time to get Professor ready for his match.

"If I didn't see you, I wasn't going to fight," Professor told Alan when we caught up with him.  Professor's turn came against Daniel Johnson from Rockit Gym.  Johnson looked more muscular, but when both men got into the ring, Alan and I didn't think that Johnson had a huge advantage over Professor.  They looked to be about even.  But then, Johnson appeared to be the busier person once the bell rang.  The next thing Alan and I knew, the fight had been stopped -- and not in Professor's favor.

Alan offered to give me a ride to the 'L.  On the way out, we wished Reggie good luck as we wouldn't be around to see his fight, which was going to take place much later in the evening.  Reggie has been training at Loyola, but was fighting for LA Fitness.  I just checked the results of Reggie's bout, and he didn't have any more luck than Professor, Kenny, and Oscar.

I sighed as I waited for the train.  "Everybody's out," I thought.  It's not the first time that's happened.  When Steve was the coach, there were seasons when all the fighters who were competing were done before the prelims were over.  It's not a good feeling, but you always have to remember that it takes a lot of courage to step into a ring.  Not many can do that, and the ones who competed on Saturday did their best.

Liver Shot

I got to Gordon Tech closer to 7:00 PM Friday night for the Golden Gloves, and quickly found Kenny and Danny.  They were sitting way up in the bleachers.  When Alan came in later and we gestured to him, he gave us a look that said, "I can't make it all the way up there!"  He remained down on the floor. 

I talked to a guy named Victor who was looking for a coaching job with the Park District.  I told him about a posting I saw about Simons Park needed a new coach.  "I'm assuming that Johnny Heard is retiring," I told Victor.  Victor confirmed that Heard is a a friend of his, and yes, Heard is retiring.  I suggested that Victor start with checking the Chicago Park District's web site.

Kenny assisted Alan in the corner with Danny.  Barely a minute into the fight, Danny was on the canvas.  I first I thought he took a low blow.  Turns out that it was a liver shot.  The referee had no choice but to count Danny out when he didn't get back up quickly.  I felt bad for him.  He started out strong, but got caught as they say.

Tomorrow night will be Kenny and Oscar's turn in the ring.  

Boxing In a Small Place

In the middle of the Golden Gloves festivities last night, Tina Wonogas asked the crowd, "How do you like the new place here at Gordon Tech?"  The response was underwhelming.  "Okay, wrong question!  Are you having fun tonight?" she continued.  I kept thinking as I looked around the venue that it was so small.  By the times the finals come around, the place will be packed like sardines in a can.  There were less bleachers and less room on the floor for reserved seating. 

The usual faces were present: Shifty, Percy, Ted, Tracy, Johnny, Jack, Bill, Luis, Sam, Chupa, Gary, etc.  I didn't know that Alan was acquainted with referee "Gentleman" Gerald Scott, who is often seen on HBO, Showtime, and ESPN officiating matches.  Alan, myself and Professor were sitting ringside near the referee while waiting for Professor's match to come up. 

I realized just after I got there that I had forgotten to bring my camera, otherwise, I would have posted pictures on here.  I won't forget it next time.  I just have to dodge the security guys who don't want people taking pictures.  It shouldn't be a problem if I'm taking pictures of individuals as opposed to taking shots (or video) of the actual matches, however.  The organizers are tough about that, though.  I overheard Tracy, one of the event's organizers, telling off a reporter who apparently showed up last night wanting a story, but who didn't clear things ahead of time. 

Earlier in the evening, a coach's meeting took place in the school's cafeteria.  Alan hadn't arrived yet.  I told Professor, "Maybe I better go and see what they're talking about."  I am a coach after all, so why shouldn't I not go?  It was the first time I had attended a coach's meeting at the Gloves.  There had to be about seventy guys in that meeting.  Myself and an Asian woman were the only two females in the room.  John, an official, went over some rules and procedures that the coaches needed to know.  I was surprised to learn that officials and referees have to had overseen 300 to 500 fights before being allowed to officiate over Golden Gloves matches.  Luis Rios made it clear that passbooks were going to be checked of everyone who was planning to work the corners of the fighters.  Apparently there had been incidents of people in the corners who weren't officially authorized to be there in the past. 

Unfortunately, some guys who plan to fight and want to fight on certain nights don't get to do so.  That was the case with Kenny, who expected to have a match Thursday night.  "This is going to eff up my training schedule," he told me later as he drove me home.  Reggie and Professor made the schedule.  Danny and Oscar are tentatively scheduled for tonight; Kenny will return for his match on Saturday.

The guys made fun of me because I was eating what they thought was a whole lot before the fights began.  It's become a running joke at the Gloves for the past few years now.  I hadn't eaten since 11:00 AM, and I was starving by the time I got to Gordon Tech around 6:30 PM.  I had a thick cheeseburger, BBQ chips, a slice of banana cake (I was entitled because my blood sugar was a little low), and a Diet Pepsi. 

"You don't have a wife beater shirt?" Alan asked Professor.  He ended up having to cut the sleeves off of the T-shirt that Professor was wearing.  Kenny held pads for Professor to warm him up beforehand.  Professor spoke to professional boxer David Diaz before his fight and got some encouraging words.  Professor slipped on the canvas twice during the first round against a guy named Marcin Kunicki who was fighting out of HyperFight Gym.  He rallied back to catch the guy with a series of jabs.  But by the third round, both men were in trouble as they were tired out.  While Professor sat in the corner between the second and last round, Alan admonished him.  "One effing body shot!  You can't give him one effing body shot?"  A body shot most likely would have stopped Kunicki.  The bell rang again and the men fought their fatigue to get through the round.  In the end, Professor got the win.  Manny, who was there, commented, "The other guy kept looking like he was surprised that Professor was still throwing punches at him!"

Reggie's fight was several bouts later, and a posse of his friends were there to cheer him on.  Reggie was up against Lucas Hyre, who was fighting for Team Colon.  Reggie tagged Hyre with a left jab, and Hyre fell into the ropes before stumbling to the canvas.  The referee ruled that to be a slip.  Reggie's next actions left no doubt, however.  He backed his opponent up into a corner and pummeled him with body shots and hooks to the head.  Hyre slumped down in the corner, and that was it.  Reggie was declared the winner, and I believe he did the job less than one minute into the first round.  His friends and I jumped to our feet and chanted Reggie's name.

Preparing For Thursday and Friday

Frank came in and asked, "Where is everybody?" Danny 2 (Kenny's friend) was stuck at work, and Professor wasn't there, either.  Oscar, Kenny, Colonel, and Danny 1 were there.  Sparring took place, but Alan didn't want the guys to do too much of it.  It's too close to the Gloves, and it wouldn't do for anyone to get hurt before their matches.  Earlier at work, I printed out a copy of the Gloves' schedule for Alan, and I brought that in. Kenny and Danny will have matches on Thursday, and Oscar is scheduled to fight this Friday.

My left knee keeps frustrating me.  One day it feels fine, then the next day, I'm back to limping again.  On other days both the left and right knee want to fight with me.  I can run down the steps of the 'L station, then a few hours later, have a hard time climbing up the steps to my apartment.  I was practically tip toeing to work this morning because of all of the ice on the ground.  "I won't have to worry about diabetes killing me off," I grumbled to myself.  "It'll probably be due to a slip on the ice, which I'll think is nothing, but it'll never heal, and then I'll die." I worry that when I do resume sparring sometime in March, the left knee will not support me like it once did.  Like Kenny told me some time ago, when an injury happens to a joint like that, most times it is never the same like it was. 

I keep assuming things about Pastor Roger that aren't true.  "Why do you think I disapprove of you boxing?  I never said that," he said recently.  "Well, you've said some things that make it appear that you don't think women should participate in certain things," I said.  We were talking about the girl in Iowa who won a wrestling championship.  Pastor understood that some boys might have been reluctant to wrestle her because they did not want to touch her inappropriately.  "I don't have a problem with you boxing because you're a woman.  I have a problem with the fact that you're boxing and you're not twenty years old anymore," he grinned.  I had to laugh.  "That's a nice way to put it," I said. 

A Sunday At The Gym

Alan opened up the gym this afternoon particularly for the guys who will be competing in the Golden Gloves this week.  Kenny, Oscar, and Reggie, who are all signed up to compete, were there; Jacob and I came in just for the workout.  All of the guys, including Alan, sparred with each other.  My left knee continues to keep me on the sidelines. 

A few kids came strolling in asking where Barry was.  "He's not here on Sunday," I told them, and I repeated the answer -- a bit more sternly -- when they asked the question again.  I had been at church earlier today where one kid felt the need to go running around the pews during service, and most of the rest were unnecessarily loud during the fellowship hour.  The last thing I wanted to deal with was more kids acting out.  One of the kids claimed he had a fight coming up.  Alan told them they could hang around to watch, but they couldn't work out.  Disinterested, they left, but not before one little boy gave me a hard stare down.  "Whatever," I thought, "they need to go home and do some homework or something."

Reggie said that it would be announced on the Chicago Golden Gloves web site tomorrow who will have matches this week.  That's a welcome change from getting all the way down there on the first night, only to learn that some people will not have a match, and being unsure as to when they will fight. 

Those In The Gloves

Fernando, a trainer, came in with one of his fighters, Reggie, to get some sparring in for his guy.  Reggie is strong with muscular arms.  He signed up to compete in the Golden Gloves.  Reggie sparred with Kenny.  In the photo below, Alan watches as they mix it up in the ring.

The other guys who signed up for the Gloves are Kenny, Oscar, Professor and Danny (Kenny's friend).  Alan is planning to open up the gym on Sunday afternoon so they all can get extra practice.  That used to happen when Steve was the coach, and it was close to the Gloves.  Alan has to clear it with Mary.  Below, Professor (in the blue headgear, leaning on the ropes) watches Kenny and Reggie spar.

So many looky-loos were hanging around in the gym today.  I got that "looky-loo" term from an ad for a home business opportunity I saw years ago.  It basically means a person who goes window shopping with no intention to buy.  There were four of them hanging around.  I had to tell one of them to stop hitting the heavy bags; he had no gloves or handwraps on, and on top of that, the form displayed wasn't so hot.  "You can break your hand, son," I said.  Another one was on the second heavy bag in the ring, and as soon as the bell rang to end the round, I walked up and stopped the bag from swinging.  When the bell rang again, I practiced on it, effectively keeping him off of it.  I overheard one of the looky-loos say, "Hey man, I bet she could kick our asses." 

Alan told me that Josh came in last Wednesday, but Jordan hasn't been in for awhile.  I had noticed that everytime Oscar was sparring with someone, Jordan was watching him with interest.  Then I'd hear Jordan ask Alan if he could spar.  I'm assuming that Jordan wanted to mix it up with Oscar.  I could have told him, based on the times I sparred with Oscar, is that Oscar is not an easy target.  In the next photo, Oscar spars with Kenny.

I was afraid to get on the scale in the gym.  I haven't been on the one at home in awhile, thinking that, due to not being able to work out much, I was going to be unpleasantly surprised.  Well, I was a little.  The needle hasn't moved up much, but it didn't move down much, either.

Alan asked if I was going to spar.  "Eh, my knee still needs more time to heal.  You know I'm such a delicate flower," I said jokingly.  "A rose among thorns," Alan grinned.

Renewing At Gordon Tech

I went up to Gordon Tech High School to renew my boxing coach's license.  After decades of the Chicago Golden Gloves Tournament being held at St. Andrews Gym, it will now take place at the high school.  Allegedly, it is a bigger venue.  I only saw the library where the registration was held, so I have no idea how big their gym is. 

Danny, Kenny's friend, was there filling out his registration when I arrived.  Other familiar faces included Ted, Jack, and Rita.  Ted told the men sitting at the first registration table, "She's signing up as a boxer."  "No, not this time.  Renewing for the coach's license," I answered.  The process was painless and quick.  New this year -- coaches now get license books, just like the fighters.  "Just show them that book and you can get into the tournaments free.  If anyone says anything different, you tell them that the president of USA Boxing Illinois told you that you could," one of the older men at the table told me.  "Thanks.  Your name, sir?" I responded.  He extended his hand, and I shook it.  "I'm Louis Rios," he said.  He owns a well known and respected gym. 

I'm not sure which other boxers from Loyola Park may have signed up.  I'm assuming that if Alan didn't renew his coach's license today, he'll do it tomorrow. 

Valentine's Day at the Gym

Upon seeing all the guys in the gym when I walked in Monday night, I commented, "So I see I wasn't the only one who couldn't get a date."  Alan laughed and wished me a happy Valentine's Day.  Two of his high school buddies, Ira and Donny, were visiting the gym that night.  He introduced them to me.  When Frank came in, it was like old home week.  He had gone to the same high school as Alan and the other two men.

Sparring was done on a round robin basis.  Below, Alan and Ira watch as Kenny and Hector spar.  Later, Alan sparred with Danny (Kenny's friend).  I believe Oscar sparred with Jacob.  Professor sparred with Kenny. 

There was a lot of activity in the gym, as has been per usual over the last few weeks.  I wasn't feeling my workout for some reason, and I didn't work as hard as I usually do.  I was so happy to get down to the gym the one day of the week I've been able to go, but then I got lazy when I got there.  Below, Frank and the Colonel (Ken Sr.) talk, as Hector looks on.

I don't know what's up with Angela.  She started the second week of this current term, came in one other time, but hasn't been seen since.  If you're wondering why there have been no shots of women (other than myself) here lately, it's because I'm the only woman in the gym again.

A couple of looky loos -- one Black, the other Hispanic -- who had hung around the gym the week before came back to get another look.  I heard the Black kid say something to Alan about the fee being a little high for him.  I've said it before; the high fee keeps a lot of guys out who would otherwise be there. 

I had gone to fill the water bottles when suddenly, a group of kids appeared outside the door of the gym.  It looked as if one kid was being ganged up on and the confusion threatened to spill inside the gym.  I hurried back down the hall with the idea that I may have to break up a fight and/or throw somebody out of the gym.  Turned out the kids were playing around, and they quickly dispersed.  However, it didn't look good.  A preview of what we might have to put up when the weather is warm again, perhaps. 

It's Poppin' At Loyola Park

After leaving church for the day, I slipped and fell -- on my bad knee, of course -- about a block north from the building.  I was so disgusted that I cursed and just sat on a snow bank for a few moments.  A kindly male stranger who was passing by helped back up on my feet.  It snowed again for a little while this afternoon.  There are mounds of snow on street.  Below is one right outside the Loyola Park field house.

Looking around the gym on Monday night really made me wish -- again -- that I could be there on Wednesdays, too.  This winter session has been poppin' with activity and a near-packed gym. 

Michael, Kenny, Jacob and Oscar sparred.  Michael told me he was going to beg off sparring from here on in, as he doesn't want to get seriously hurt.  He thinks he's become too old for that activity.  "You're not that old," I told him.  "You're an anomaly, and Alan is nuts," Michael smiled.  Oscar had to reach up to get to Jacob's head, but managed to get a lot of good shots in. 

Kenny, Professor and Hayk gave pad work to others. Hayk worked with Danny as seen in the picture below (Hayk is on the right).  Kenny even gave pad work to Jordan, who kept bugging him for it earlier in the evening. 

I finally asked the Colonel what his real name was.  "It's Ken," he said.  "Oh," I said, looking over at Kenny, his son, "Ken Sr. and Ken Jr."  "People call me Colonel, Commander, Officer. . .I answer to it all.  Just as as long as they don't call me something that begins with mother and ends with er!" he said, and we both laughed.  I found out from him that Kenny reached 2nd place two times at the Golden Gloves.

While driving me home, Alan asked when I would begin sparring again.  "Probably in March.  I want to rest my knee up," I said.  "That's the smartest thing you've said," he said, grinning.  I playfully popped him on his shoulder.  "Well, you were in the gym the day after you were hit by that car, hardly able to walk.  That was crazy!" Alan continued.  

Snowed In

Professor sent me a message asking if I knew if the gym was open tonight.  A quick check of the Chicago Park District's web site showed that Loyola was one of the field houses that would not be open this evening.  It's too bad.  My paralegal class was canceled this evening, but I would have trudged through the snow to go to the gym.

I had a taste for eggs and bacon this morning.  Too bad I didn't have a taste for them yesterday afternoon while I was shopping at the Morse Fresh Market.  I fought the snow drifts this morning to make a trip to the corner store.  The snow showed me that my left knee is still very unstable.  "That's all I need to do is to re-injure it," I grumbled to myself.  As I approached the corner of my block on the way back, I saw a guy standing there, looking in disbelief.  "All this snow," he said, as I got closer.  "This is 1967", I commented, referring to the blizzard that literally shut Chicago down in January of that year.  "You remember that, too?" he said, and we both laughed. 

High Monday Activity

Kenny told me he noticed that I wasn't throwing my uppercuts correctly.  I had been leading with my head, plus, winding the punch back too far before executing it.  He showed me how to throw them shorter and with more leverage using my shoulders.  I appreciated that, and I practiced them most of the evening. 

Alan kept telling me to "turn your back leg!" when I threw my right.  Both knees are jacked up: the left from the car accident a few weeks ago, and the right because it had to take on extra work duty because the left is messed up.  It was hard to get my right knee to cooperate, but it did, eventually. 

A lot of guys were in the gym Monday night: Hector, Kenny, Willie, Oscar, Michael (with glasses), Professor, Danny, Frank, Hayk, Vil.  Jordan was there, too.  His name was on the attendance sheet, so I guess he's paid up.  No Angela that night -- she's the only other woman signed up for the gym this session.  Josh, Jamil and Leon didn't come in, either, nor did Sadiq, whom I saw driving a cab while I was on my way to church on Sunday.  Kenny told me that Chloe had come by last Wednesday and asked about me.  I'm sorry I missed her.

The Colonel was there, which was a surprise.  Hadn't seen him in a few years.  I learned that he's Kenny's dad.  The Colonel -- so nicknamed because he's a Vietnam veteran -- is pretty amazing.  "This is my second workout of the day.  I did Jiu Jitsu this morning," he told me.  In the past, the Colonel had done triathalons.  For 30 years, he taught fitness classes at the McCormick Boys' Center.  He's 64 years old and looked to be in great shape.  He plans to come by the boxing gym more often.

A lot of activity was going on: Frank sparred with Michael, and that was their second time (they had sparred last Wednesday); Oscar sparred with Kenny; Willie was holding pads for people; and Professor had some of the guys doing push ups.  The way Jordan was hitting the speed bag, I thought for a moment that he might break it.  Hector was surprised at how busy the place was.  "It usually gets like this before the Golden Gloves," I said. 

Tossing, Huffing, and Puffing

Professor, Kenny, Oscar, and a new guy, Hector, threw the medicine ball around, a drill that lasted several rounds.  If someone dropped the ball, all had to drop and do ten push ups.  It looked like a good exercise.  Of course, I couldn't do it, as my left knee is still out of whack.  Hector got tired, and bowed out.  "Twenty years old and huffing and puffing!  When I was twenty years old, I didn't know what huffing and puffing was!" Kenny remarked.  "I know that's right!  Neither did I," I said.  If only I had the energy and stamina I did back then. 

Alan moved around in the ring with Paul.  It was Paul's first time.  Alan was not hitting hard, but he did tap Paul about the head.  After two rounds, Paul was done.  "I'm amazed at how exhausting that is!" he exclaimed.  "See, I told you it's different from hitting the bags," Alan said.

Kenny sparred with yet another new guy, Danny (not to be confused with the other Danny, who was also in the gym).  Danny is 22 years old, and a southpaw.  Kenny is quick, but so is Danny.  Their style of fighting is similar to each other.  It was very interesting to watch.  Oscar also sparred with Kenny, but Oscar kept leading with his head instead of with his jab. Oscar also had his right hand down too much, and Kenny was tagging him left and right. 

Just to show you how nutty I can be, here is a shot of me with the knee supporter on.  Alan shook his head and said, "That knee doesn't look good.  You could possibly injure it further.  A ligament may be torn."  "My problem is that I'm hard-headed," I told Alan.



It felt like I hadn't been in the gym for ages, but that's because I'm only able to show up once a week for awhile.  I really wish I didn't have to miss the second day, but it's only another month and a half and I'll be back to my regular schedule. 

Mondays Only

I had half a mind not to go down to the gym on Monday.  Despite of it being Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day, the gym was open.  I had fallen asleep, and had a hard time waking up.  My knee has improved, but not enough to do any sparring.  The thought that Monday is the only day I'll be able to get to the gym for awhile also bummed me out.  If only that paralegal class I have to take was not scheduled on Wednesdays.  I'll have to do a boxing workout on another day of the week, on my own, depending on how much my left knee can take.

Alan's arms were looking devoid of hair.  "Did you shave your arms?" I asked.  He laughed.  "Yeah, I had my wife help me do it.  It'll look odd for awhile until it grows back in.  I got tired of looking like Teen Wolf.  That's what Leon used to call me," he said. 

Professor sparred with Jamil, and it was a good session, full of left handed action.  I videotaped it using Professor's cell phone.  A new guy, Kenny, went a couple of rounds with Oscar.  Alan kept telling Oscar "Break!" and Oscar kept hitting Kenny anyway. 

I saw a Jordan listed on the attendance sheet.  Alan asked me who it was.  I'm wondering did Mary's speech about "no pay, no play" the other week prompted Jordan to scare up the gym fee.  If it was that Jordan, he didn't come in.  Jordan didn't come in regularly back in the day when Steve was the coach, so. . .

I stepped on the blue scale in the gym.  "Under one-eighty.  Not by much, but under it," I thought.

There's Always That First Real Pop In The Face

I hobbled down to the gym again Wednesday.  I was wearing knee supporters, one on each knee.  My right leg has really had to do a lot of work since my left knee is still mainly out of commission.  I was hitting one of the bags when Alan gave me a curious look.  "You're not sparring tonight, are you?" he asked.  "Of course not!  I'm stubborn, but not that stubborn," I grinned.

Michael and Jacob sparred; they did three rounds and a half, exchanging some good shots.  "You've got a little blood on you," I pointed out to Jacob when it was all over.  Michael had tagged him in his nose.  Both men were tired, but agreed that it was a good session. 

Eric was sporting a black eye.  "How did you get that?" I asked.  "Jamil", he answered.  They had sparred the other day, but I didn't realize that Eric had taken that kind of a hit.  Later, he made a comment about people maybe not being as wild when they fight without headgear.  "Not to say that I would do that," Eric grinned.  "Me neither.  I'm too old to do that," I said.  "I have to protect this," he grinned, indicating his face as he stepped into the ring. "This is all I've got going for me!"

Josh had come in earlier than he usually does, and he decided to move around in the ring with Eric.  Josh was rather tight in his movements.  He also kept picking his front leg up as if he was going to kick Eric.  Both Alan and I had to warn Josh to keep his leg down.  I recognized the pattern.  When I was taking martial arts and boxing classes back to back, I often had to remember not to use movements in one discipline that belonged in another. 

Suddenly, Eric popped Josh in the face with a right.  The round was far from half-way over.  Josh had to stop for a minute.  "Take a few deep breaths.  You're alright," Alan told him.  Josh had sparred a few times before, but that was the first time I had saw him experience a hit like that.  The action continued, and Josh was done after that round. 

Oscar, whom I hadn't seen in months, came in.  Alan said, "Oscar is a good fighter," and I agreed.  He and I sparred often.  We were a good match because we are about the same height.  "You know, he fought for a few years in Mexico," Alan continued.  That would explain why Oscar always appeared to look like he really knew what he was doing.  Oscar plans to return to the gym. 

Maybe I'll Be The Bionic Woman

After church this past Sunday, I was on my way to Dominicks when I was hit by a car.  The driver, who was extremely upset and mortified, checked to see if I was alive, as well as a couple of bikers who witnessed the accident.  I was bruised up on my left side.  The main damage was to my left knee, which had gone out a few days ago in the gym.  Now it's badly sprained.

That didn't stop me from a) grocery shopping that day, b) making crock pot chili that night, c) going to work the following day, and d) going to the gym last night.  Alan called me before I left the house to say he was going to be late.  I told him about the accident.  "Maybe you shouldn't come in tonight," he said, but being my usual hard-headed self, I hobbled down there on a cane.  Pastor Roger had his comments earlier as well. He saw me limping at church earlier on Sunday and cracked, "I thought it was boxing, not kickboxing".  The next day he said, "Hillari, what's going to happen when you're 60 years old?  You're almost 50 and on a cane now."  "I keep telling you that I'm a tough built woman," I replied.  After all, I was at work the day after being pummeled by moving tons of steel and knocked a foot back onto the concrete. 

Alan shook his head as I limped around the gym all evening.  "Stop it.  You can hardly walk.  What are you going to do?" he said.  "I can hit the equipment," I said, and I did, being very careful not to turn my left knee much.  I kept remembering that line from the opening credits of the TV series "The Six Million Dollar Man".  "We can rebuild him", Oscar, his contact person at the agency said.  If I keep on getting injured, doctors may have to make that statement regarding me.  But I'll be like Jamie Summers, "The Bionic Woman", instead.   Walking with a cane is no kinds of fun.  It takes double and triple time to get anything done and to get anywhere.  I'm wearing a knee supporter today; it helps somewhat. 

A rare thing happened last night: Danny sparred.  I think that was only the second time I've seen him do that.  Danny is very content to just do the workout, but Leon talked him into moving around in the ring.  Leon also sparred with Jamil and Jacob.  Alan kept urging Jamil not to back up into the corners.  He also told him to grab Leon's arms to slow down the bigger man's flurry of punches.  "That the same thing I keep yelling at you whenever you're in the ring," Alan smiled at me. 

There won't be any sparring for me for a long time.  I can also forget about that fight that was tentatively scheduled for this month.  Alan had just called Bill to see if there was an opponent ready, but my knee will take at least a couple of months to feel halfway decent.  I base that on when I sprained my right knee twice in 2005; it took a long time to get right. 

My Left Knee Had An Opinion Last Night

Just when I thought no women would come in this session, Angela showed up last night.  She used to go to Clarendon Park years ago.  Alan told me later that he remembered her taking boxing there. 

Sadiq returned again, and I was glad to see him.  He gave me some good encouragement while I was in sparring with Michael.  I was in the middle of throwing a right when my left knee decided to go out.  Michael apologized, because he thought he had knocked me down.  "No, it wasn't you," I told him.  Common sense would have told anybody else to stop sparring at that point, but I kept going.  Michael had to keep reminding me to direct my punches up.  Too many of them were dangerously going below the belt; I grazed him once.  "I'll wear a cup the next time," he smiled. 

Jordan showed up.  I had a bad feeling that he would sooner or later.  "I'm not going to nag, I'm not going to argue," I thought to myself.  As soon as Alan came in, I took the water bottles away to fill them.  Mary passed me on her way to the gym.  I could hear her giving her speech to people about paying the gym fee.  When I came back to the gym, Jordan was gone, so Mary's speech must have ran him out.  That won't keep him out permanently, however.  Jordan will sneak in at some other time because that's how his brain works.

Paul is the name of the fourth new guy.  I'm assuming that he, Frank, and Alan are all around the same age.  Frank was saying on Monday night how the workout was tough, and Paul was saying the same thing last night. 

I know it's tough based on how I was limping today.  It wasn't that I was really hurting, but I could not move fast at all.  My lower back felt out of sorts as well.  I brought a cane from the drug store. Figured that I will need it sooner or later. 

Josh came in, fifteen minutes before closing time as usual.  Alan said, "I can't say anything because he's paid up," but the coach did shake his head.  Josh wanted to spar with me, but I was spent from going around the squared circle with Michael. 

Staying Sore Longer

On Monday, Alan said to me, "Look at the attendance sheet."  Only three new people signed up for the winter session, plus one who wasn't on the list, all men, no women.  Those are the lowest numbers I've ever seen for January.  I didn't get the fourth guy's name, but Frank, Jacob and Steve are the names of the other three.

Leon came in and announced that he signed up.  Sadiq stopped in to say he switched jobs and wanted to try to make it back to the gym.  Erin emailed me via Facebook and said she wanted to know the days the gym was open; she's hoping she can come back in.  I was surprised that Josh didn't come in -- either on time or late.

Michael (with glasses) and I sparred.  A hit to the eye, a hit to the nose, a pop to the chest, then a fall to the canvas really did a number on me.  Today, I was moving slow at work, then found out that neither of the first aid kits -- the one in my office and the one in Pastor Roger's office -- had any aspirin.  I had thrown out an old tube of Ben Gay a month ago, so I had to go up to Walgreens.  Instead of Ben Gay, I brought Mineral Ice.  When I got home, I took a long hot bath.  A cup of green rubbing alcohol was poured into the water to help soak my sore muscles. 

Unfortunately in a couple of weeks when paralegal classes begin again, I'm going to have to miss a day out of the gym for several weeks due to a class.  I've already set aside another day for exercise to make up for missing out at Loyola Park.  I seem to stay sore longer these days, but I can't cut down exercising.  The scale told me I was 183 pounds this morning -- too damn big for someone who is only five foot one.  No sooner than that I manage to get under 180, the weight starts creeping up again.  I never want to be 210 again.  That was when I was at my heaviest.  But I'm slowly realizing that I have to exercise according to what my aging body can do these days.

The Candid Camera Moment

Alan, Michael (with glasses), and myself were at the gym door.  Alan was opening the door up.  Alan noticed a petite woman standing behind Michael.  "Are you here for boxing?" he asked her.  "Yes. Who is the coach?" the woman asked.  "I'm the coach," Alan answered.  She looked him up and down.  "Oh.  I was hoping for someone younger.  You don't look like you're in shape," she said, as Alan opened the door.

We all followed Alan inside the gym.  "Is there somebody else I could work with?" the woman asked.  Alan pointed to me.  "There's Hillari.  Hillari, would you want to go into the ring with her?" he said.  "Sure," I said, feeling a little uncomfortable.  "That's fine," the woman said, looking disappointed.  Alan gave her a look.  "I'm not happy with your attitude right now," he said in a stern voice to her. "Well, no offense, but I expected a younger boxing coach," the woman said, clearing standing her ground.  Michael and I looked from her to him, wondering where the tension was going to end.  It became quiet in the gym for a few moments.

Then Alan grinned.  "This is my wife, Riva," he said.  He and his wife laughed, and so did Michael and I.  "You got us good!  That was a Candid Camera moment!" Michael said.  They really had Michael and I fooled.  I came over to introduce myself to his wife, who gave me a hug.  "I feel like I know you already because Alan always talks about you," she said.  Alan had told me that he and Riva first started dating when they were in high school.  Riva told me that she and her husband actually have known each other since they were twelve years old.  "We had a few break ups, then we got back together and stayed together," she smiled. 

Deep-voiced Michael and Jamil came in a little later.  Jamil recently had a birthday; he's now 22 years old.  Deep-voiced Michael has had a few fights at a martial arts center. 

I sparred with Michael for three rounds.  My mouthpiece was making me feel nauseous.  My stomach was acting funny, too, which didn't help.  I took it out, and I sparred without it.  I made very sure to keep my mouth closed.  Michael was throwing some good punches.  He got me in my chest and stomach a few times.  I kept thinking that I should learn to wear my chest protector.  Another time, he caught me with something, I slipped, and fell head over heels onto the canvas.  "Come on, hit hard!  Pretend like you're hitting me!" Alan to me said from the sidelines.

Josh surprised Alan and I by showing up earlier than he usually does.  He sparred about two rounds with Deep Voiced Michael.  Michael did not hit Josh like he could have; the point was for the both of them to just move around in the ring.  Michael wasn't even wearing headgear.

Jamil sparred with Professor, who was also in attendance.  Jamil stopped at one point, and I was afraid he was going to be sick.  He did say later that his stomach was acting funny. 

Before Jamil and Professor sparred, I went down the hall to fill up a couple of the water bottles.  Some young man who looked to be in his mid-teens, passed me, rapping to himself.  Maybe he was wearing an MP3 player, but I didn't see one.  I noticed that he went into the gym, then came out after a few moments.  He passed me as I stood at the water fountain on his way to the basketball gym, still rapping.  I had an uneasy feeling.  Rob was standing behind the service desk, watching the kid, too.  When the kid went on by, Rob said, "I thought group homes had a curfew."  "I used to work at one where the kids weren't allowed to go out alone at all," I said.  There is a youth group home in the neighborhood, and from what I've heard and read, there have been problems.  It appeared the kid didn't cause any problems during the brief time he was in the gym, because Alan didn't say anything about him when I returned with the water.

Michael with glasses gave me some Christmas presents for keeping the shoes he forgot the other week in my locker.  I got some granola bars (good stuff) and a Walgreens' gift card.  I told Michael he didn't have to buy me anything, but he insisted because he was grateful that I had found his shoes.  I was appreciative.

As we were leaving at the end of the night, I told Riva, "I figured that Alan tells you when he spars with the guys, but I didn't think he dared to tell you he was sparring with the women."  "He told Matthew and I how he was sparring with you.  I asked Alan, 'Are you crazy?'  He said that you all were just moving around in the ring but. . . .it's just that he's so much bigger than you, and he hits hard," she said.  "I know, and he's always claiming that he doesn't," I laughed.  "Yeah," Alan confirmed with a grin, "my wife screamed at me when she heard about the sparring."  Riva told me that their son, Matthew, got on Alan about that as well.

A Reason To Skip The Gym

Instead of going to the gym on Monday, I went to a second annual alumni gathering of my old high school classmates.  Instead of being limited to the first two classes that ever graduated out of the high school (the place hadn't been open long when I started attending there), the gathering was open to all alumni.  It was held at pub in the West Loop.

As you can see, I quickly found a real drink (sodas were supplied in the cost), then I went around the room.  Several people had seen my fight from September on Facebook.  "You whipped her!" Mario told me.  Rochelle said, "Keep doing your thing, girl!" 

I've said too many times on the blog that I don't like missing nights at the gym, but seeing old buddies and having a good time was worth missing a night. 

Showing Up At The End

Alan and I mostly had the gym to ourselves again Wednesday night.  He and I sparred for three rounds.  Once again, the coach caught me in the nose with a punch.  My legs were wobbly during round two, but I managed to stay on my feet.  After we were done sparring,  Jamil came in with a friend of his named Rob.  They chatted with Alan and I briefly, then they left. 

Nine o'clock came and Alan and I were shutting the gym down.  Josh walked in.  "You've got to be kidding me!" Alan exclaimed.  "Can I get a round in?" Josh asked.  "We're closing up," I said, pointing to the timer which I had already turned off.  Alan let him work out for three rounds.  "I heard that you signed up, but it's a waste of time to show up ten or five minutes before closing time.  You don't get enough of a workout that way," Alan told Josh.  Josh promised to come in earlier. 

On The Canvas and On The Ropes

Yet another quiet night at the gym. . .I walked in to find Alan already working out.  "You're the only one here?" I asked.  "Yeah", came the answer, and I didn't really expect anyone else.  However, Michael (with the glasses) came in, and so did Danny.

Alan doesn't seem to know his own strength sometimes.  He and I sparred for three round, and in the first one, a flick of his left hand caught me under the nose.  I stopped and went to my knees on the canvas.  "Aw, come on," Alan protested.  After a few seconds, I got back up to finish the round.  "My neck turned a funny way," I said, when asked if I was okay.  That's the second time that has happened over the last several days.  There's a reason why I always see myself in my 60s (if I live that long), walking on a cane, and constantly complaining the years of aches and pains I've built up. 

I got Alan a few times, including some punches on top of his head that were illegal.  We were in a clinch, I kept punching, and unfortunately, some of them landed in that spot.  He got me square in the face in the second round, and once again, I stopped.  That time, I just backed up instead of going down to the canvas.  "I didn't hit that hard," Alan said, like he always does.  "I'm fine; I was just stunned for a minute," I said.  I made the mistake of being near the ropes too often.  Alan was on me so much at one point, that I grabbed him by the arms so we could make the break.  At the end of the third round, he had me pinned on the ropes.

"I told my wife about hitting you in the nose during sparring.  She was screaming at me," Alan admitted in-between sparring rounds.  I figured he always tells his wife whenever he sparred with the guys, but I figured he didn't dare tell her that he sparred with any of the women.  I laughed and asked, "What did she say?"  "She called me a brute.  But you understand!" he said.  Yes, I do.  But I can also understand how his wife would feel.  If I had a husband who was a boxing coach, and near 60 years of age, I'd be concerned not only about what punches he was taking, but what punches he was giving while sparring, too.  I would admire the woman for stepping in the squared circle with my husband, but I'd wonder about what punishment she was taking.

After the sparring ended, Alan asked, "Was that the first time any guy has knocked you down?"  "No," I answered, thinking of the times I found myself on the floor due to blows from my late dad, and once from a now thankfully deceased ex-boyfriend.  "Good," Alan said, indicating that he didn't want to feel like a bad guy.  He continued, "You did really good.  You were not throwing those half-assed punches that you usually do. Now give me three rounds on the heavy bags."

Michael was happy that the shoes he'd left behind last week were found.  I had locked them up in my locker.  "I owe you a Christmas present," he smiled.  "Oh, you don't have to do that," I said.  I'm always finding stuff that the guys leave behind.  I'd rather not see it walk, so I take care of it.

It wasn't snowing that much when Alan and I went out to his car at the end of the night.  There was enough of the white stuff on his vehicle, though.  On the way to the lot, Alan joked, "So this was your night to beat on the Jew."  "No, Rabbi, that wasn't it!" I laughed.  I gotta get it together because there may be a fight at Seward next month.  It's not solid on the schedule as of yet, but it may come to fruition. 

Another Wednesday

Alan had to attend a coaches' meeting last night.  Eric, Michael, and Leon came in, as well as Josh, who showed up at five minutes to nine.  Josh said he signed up for the winter session, which is a good thing.  The few minutes that he's usually there to work out is not enough to get the full experience. 

Unfortunately, none of the staff had the key to the main boxing gym door, so we had to go through the basketball gym.  Several kids tried to get past Rob, who blocked their way into the gym.  "You can look at it, but you can't go inside," he told them.  Later, the most persistent of the ones who were bugging Rob tried to gain entrance again.  I've been patient with most of the kids who come around lately, but last night, I wasn't in an accommodating mood.  "Did you pay to be in here?" I asked, annoyed that the kid had interrupted me while I was shadow boxing.  "No.  I can't work on the speed bag?" the kid asked.  I caught myself before I really said something rude.  Instead,I came back with, "Did you pay to be in here?  Well, then you can't.  Those are not my rules; those are the rules of the park district."  The kid backed out of the doorway.

Earlier in the day, Pastor, Ken and myself stopped at Home Depot after lunch to get salt to put down on the walks around church.  I saw JJ, who works there, and we talked for a few minutes.  It was very good to see him.  He's planning on turning pro in February.  He'll let people know when that match takes place.

Sort of Like Cinderella

Alan and I were the only two in the gym last night for almost an hour until Danny came in.  "Before I change my mind," Alan said to me, "get ready."  "Get ready for what?" I asked.  "I'll spar with you," he said.

Earlier, Alan said that he usually feels like he's 25 years old.  "I revert to being 21 years old when I'm in here," I said.  However, the next morning, the carriage turns back into a pumpkin.  I wake up, and I'm instantly reminded of my real age.  That was very true this morning, after the effects of sparring with the coach had set in.  I was putting extra pepper on the punches I gave Alan, and he noticed.  "You've hit me harder than you usually do anyone else," he commented.  "I always go easy on the women because most of them have never been in any kind of fight.  But I figure the guys can take it," I said.  "That's how you should hit all of the time," he said.

"Hillari the giant killer," Alan joked before we stepped into the ring, referring to when I sparred with Leon on my birthday last week.  Alan has a way of turning his body to avoid punches, and it's hard for me to land any when he does that.  It's especially hard to get in a right or a bolo (overhand right) punch on him.  Too many of them landed on his left shoulder.  I was better at aiming at his chest and stomach, and I got some hooks in when he bent over.  Alan suddenly gave me a left uppercut that went up my nose and rocked my head back.  Later, I told him, "If you had put more force on that punch, I would have been laid out on the canvas."  Stunned for a moment, I backed up to catch my breath before charging in again.

Another one of his punches caught me in the mouth.  My mouth was open, and the punch grazed one of my front teeth.  "Remember, Hillari, adult teeth don't grow back if they get knocked out," I thought.  Mouthpieces don't always protect from that, truth be told.  Stamina really began to run out in the third round.  I was taking too long to answer Alan's punches.  "Come on, you're tough," Alan said.  Another hit rocked my neck in the wrong direction.  I think Kevin was the last one to catch me like that in recent memory.  I was hanging over the ropes at the end of that round.

"It's all in your head.  You have to pace yourself, and once you get on the inside, go slow and throw the punches," Alan told me.  There is a mental block, and I need to work on that as much as I need to work on losing weight.  What I do on the bags doesn't always translate to sparring or to actual fights.  The hooks I want to throw don't get executed properly; the uppercuts seldom happen, and when they do, they're not strong enough.  Practice, practice, practice. . .there may be another chance for a fight.  Seward Park's boxing show was rescheduled to take place in January.

I keep rubbing my nose today.  It stung when Alan popped me there.  My back, my neck, my knees and my sides aren't doing so well either today.  Pastor Roger saw me rubbing my nose, and asked, "Are you sick?"  He's on guard, because he doesn't want to take any germs home to his newborn son.  "No, I really took a hit last night," I told him.   Today might be a good day to soak in a hot bath with rubbing alcohol added.

Gidget v. Goliath In The Ring

It was a good birthday; usually the better ones I have are because I planned nothing.  The only thing that was on the menu was the fight I was going to have at Brooks Park Wednesday evening.  That didn't happen, so I just let the day flow.

When I got to the gym, I was the only there for awhile  Alan had to attend a sales meeting at his day job, so he was very late in arriving.  Before he got there, Leon came in.  If I remember correctly, Leon is signed up for the gym, but he doesn't come in often.  Alan showed up right after Leon did, and Danny came in a little later.  Alan said, "You can move around with Leon in the ring."  Remember, this is the same Leon who is six foot six, and well over 250 pounds.  This is the same Leon who broke Deo's eye socket during an ill-fated sparring match over a year ago.  But being the reckless middle-aged person that I am, I suited up and stepped into the ring anyway.

Leon did not hit me as hard as he could have.  That was a blessing, believe me.  I'm extremely sure that none of the punches that I landed on him affected him in the least.  Leon had more energy than I, because he was constantly moving, bobbing and weaving.  We went three rounds, and I was wore out.  "Next time, you can go four rounds," Alan told me.  "I used to do five rounds when I first started coming here.  But that was ten years ago," I said. 

After the sparring match, I worked on the heavy bags.  I had to push myself, as I felt my energy draining away.  I kept sitting down in-between matches.  "Are you done?" Alan asked.  "No, I'm just sitting down," I answered.  Usually I'm throwing punches up until the last round of the night, but during the last few minutes, I opted to stretch out instead. 

Fight Stopped Before The Bell Rang

Both Professor and I crapped out when it came to getting fights tomorrow night at Brooks.  No opponents are available for either of us.  My opponent, whom I fought in September, is ill.  It's disappointing.  I'll have to wait a long, long time before another fight is available to me.  The guys have the option of show fights and various tournaments throughout the year. 

Professor and Jamil sparred.  He caught Jamil up against the ropes and popped him with a right hook.  Jamil's head nearly turned all the way around on his neck.  Alan, Kevin and myself were surprised the punch didn't stop him. 

Kevin and I fought, and I still couldn't get around him when he used his long arms to keep me at bay.  Fortunately, we only did two rounds and a half.  Just as with Professor the other week, I couldn't chase Kevin around the ring.  More effort was put into working the heavy bags.  I'm still trying to get the right distance to throw hooks.

I wish that fight was happening tomorrow.  I don't feel that I have enough meanness most of the time to get things done during a match.  However, I would have had a good focus point, because unfortunately, I'm still dealing with the fallout from the disagreement I had with a guy at church recently.  I could have visualized that guy standing in front of me in the ring.  I'm very sure that would have helped me win.  Pastor has a problem with the fact that I just won't take someone coming to me the wrong way.  I have a problem with logic that believes I should show up groveling with my hat in my hand when I wasn't the one who started the static.  There was a short window of time when I was younger when I put up with all kinds of mistreatment.  There was a point where I stopped doing that, and as old as I am, I'm not going back to being a doormat.  Nobody should make it their problem that others have chips on their shoulders and are clueless about stepping to the wrong people at the wrong time.  For the most part, I've stopped apologizing for having a temper and unleashing it when it is warranted on who is deserving of it wherever that may be.

Boxing With a Stuffy Nose and a Cough

Perhaps Alan was right.  I should have stayed home from the boxing gym on Wednesday night.  "If I get sick from you, I'm going to be angry," he joked -- I think.  A cold sneaked up on me Tuesday morning, and knocked me out by nightfall.  I didn't go to work at church Wednesday morning. 

I don't like leaving my gear down at Loyola Park over the weekend, and my hand wraps need a good washing.  Despite feeling like warmed over death, I crawled up to the gym in the cold.  My intent was to get my bag and go back home.  But no.  Boxers can't resist the lure of the gym.  As proof, Alan was hitting the bags even though he was still wearing his suit from work.  I opted not to spar, but I broke a sweat on the bags.

Danny, Eric and Professor were in the gym.  The latter two guys sparred, and Eric caught Professor in the face with a shot.  Professor can take a punch, because he remained on his feet.  I caught all the action using the camera on Professor's cell phone.

Michael, a tall guy with glasses who hadn't been in the gym in a year, came in.  "I thought today was the first day of the new session," he told me.  Actually, it was the last day of the fall session.  Michael signed up for the Winter session at Alan's prompting.  We both told him and everybody else that the gym would remain open during the "limbo" three week period until the new session starts in early January.  An ideal occurred to me: the three weeks could be promoted as a time for adults to come try out the gym before committing to a session.  Of course, they would still have to sign a waiver form.  But it would be a good idea, especially for those who are new to boxing, to get a feel for what the sport is.