Type 1 and Type 2

Steve is out this week, so Mike and I are opening and closing the gym. Mike brought his friend Eric in again, who revealed that he is a Type 1 diabetic. He's a strong, basically strapping guy who did service in the military. You'd never suspect he had a condition. Type 1 people have to take insulin. Since I'm Type 2, I'm on pills -- for the time being.

Jordan did some pad work with Mike. Mike asked me if I wanted some work too, but I was too tired. "My diabetes is messing with me today," I said. I was sitting down more than I was working out last night. When I saw my doctor this past Monday, I informed him that I have been feeling fatigued a lot. It appears to be a symptom of the condition: being at a regular energy level one day, and feeling wiped out on others. I can't afford to be fatigued half the time. I have too many things to do.

Two Interviews and Holiday Eating

Steve has scored two interviews with two different colleges, so he'll be away from the gym next week. Mike and I agreed to watch the gym while he's out. It appears the fieldhouse is closed early today in observance of Thanksgiving tomorrow, so the gym won't be open. It's not open on Friday, so we'll be back on next week.

This was the month that I had planned to add some extra days of exercise, this might be a good night to pull out that Laila Ali/Sugar Ray Robinson fitness boxing DVD. I recently picked up a stretching exercises DVD, too, but I haven't looked at it yet. Having good flexibility is very important as one becomes older, so I figured I'd better work on it now.

I really need to get some exercise in this week, especially since I know I will be eating too much at my aunt's house on Thanksgiving. All of aunts are bringing food, and they are good cooks. I'll come home with two to three plates of food. All of that will need to be worked off. I've lost some weight, but as everybody knows, the holidays can saboutage the best of healthy eating intentions.

The Little Boy Named Danger

Danger is the middle name of Steve's son, Eli. Steve admitted that he would like a second child. "Their middle name could be Trouble. Wouldn't that be cool if one of their friends was talking to another friend and said, 'Hey, I'm coming over and I'm bringing Danger and Trouble!'" I found that to be very funny. But what if the second child is a girl? Reminds me of something my late father used to say, "I'd rather have had all boys because girls are nothin' but trouble."

Eli had a ball to play with. At one point, I was bouncing the ball around in the gym. Eli, who's one and a half years old, walked up and abruptly took it away from me. "I guess he told you," Mike laughed. I had to laugh, too.

Steve told us that his dad would really spank him and his brothers when he was a kid (but not so much his sister). "Neither I or Ellen will ever spank Eli. Spanking's not necessary." JJ and I told him how our fathers would knock us about when we were kids. All my dad had to hear was that one of had done something. He never investigated the facts or whether or not it was true. He'd just walk up on you and backslap you. After yelling at him and proving I didn't do something, his response was, "Well, that'll serve for next time."

I overheard Steve saying he wishes he could have the old speed bag platform up. The new one won't hold the new speed bag. No one can touch the bag for too long without it falling to the floor. There's a need for a bigger wrench to attempt to screw the speed bag in so that it stays, but one is not available at this time.

The USA Amateur Boxing rules are sitting somewhere on the floor in my apartment. I managed to clean the bathroom and the kitchen over the weekend, but the main room needs work. It won't be long before announcements regarding signing up for the Golden Gloves appear. I'll have to register as a coach when that happens, but I need to attend a certification class before then. I need to read up on the rules before then.

Back To The Gym

I was sick with a bad cold all last week. Last night was my first night back in the gym. Before leaving for the gym, I noticed that the door of a neighbor down the hall was open. Their lights were off. Assuming that they were coming out soon, I thought nothing else of it and left for the gym.

Mike came in with a friend of his named Eric. Mike was showing him the basics. Jordan's friend, the one who's been drug-free for a few years, showed up, too. He was hitting the one of the heavy bags with no gloves. Over and over again, people have to be told not to do that. It's too easy to injure one's hands like that. Jordan told me, "That's how we train in martial arts, on concrete, on glass, etc." Steve told Jordan's friend that he couldn't hit the bags, anyway, unless he pays the gym fee. He probably could have filled out a waiver form, like Eric did, in order to get a workout in for that night only. It appears, however, that Jordan has been telling his friend that he can just show up and use the equipment, which is not correct.

A lanky 14-year old kid, Rashaun, was standing at the entrance of the gym for a long time, peering in. I talked to him, and gave him info to take home to his mom. He stated that he would like for her to sign him up for boxing.

Javonte showed up. He said that his new daughter's name is Sierra, which is a pretty name. However, he hinted that things were not going well between him and the baby's mama. I asked him to bring in pictures of the baby the next time he comes in.

JJ had a fight on Monday, so he wasn't in. Probably took the night off. I don't know how he did, though, and I forgot to ask Steve.

When I got home after the gym, I saw that my neighbor's door was still wide open. I went to the door, called out "hello", but got no response. Then I noticed the frame was damaged, indicating that someone might have kicked the door in. I called the police. They said it looked like a break-in, too, but it appears that nothing was taken. However, they couldn't be sure because the tenant wasn't there to verify it. I gave them the number of the building manager, and I called the building manager's answering service to let them know what happened. The on-call management person didn't show before the cops left, so the cops secured the door the best they could.

Judgement Call

Maybe I judged Jordan a little too harshly in my last entry. Steve saw potential in the 21 year old, while I grumbled about what came across as rudeness and inconsiderate behavior out of Jordan. I have a habit of judging folks too fast. But to an extent, the jury is still out.

Jordan showed up this past Friday with a friend of his. The friend wanted to get into professional boxing. That was all good and fine, with the exception of the fact that the friend was the same age as I am. The guy had also lost a lot of time due to a drug habit that he said he's kicked. He sang the same song I've heard younger guys who've come into the gym say: "I want to make money." Steve explained to him that Illinois has tough boxing licensing rules. Amateur boxers over the age of 35 have to jump through all kinds of hoops to get licensed. The possibility of a middle aged boxer be allowed to turn pro is extremely remote. The guy brought up George Forman and some other boxers who fought past 35 years of age. "They started when they were teenagers and young men," I pointed out.

I was sick on Monday and Tuesday of this week, and I stayed home from work. A cold suddenly came upon me on Sunday, and I was caught without the "care package" supplies that diabetics are supposed to have when they become ill. I had to go out briefly to get something to eat. I saw Jordan crossing the street while smoking a cigarrette. It was the middle of the day, so I assumed he either has no job, or works part-time. There seems to be too many young men in that situation these days.

Continuing Rudeness

I witnessed a boxer shove a female volunteer with the World Boxing Championships yesterday. I had gone to see some of the matches that afternoon. Since I had my volunteer badge on me, I decided to ride the shuttle bus back downtown from the event venue. The female volunteer was trying to make sure that the bus we were on wouldn't be overcrowded. It could only hold so many, and since it was a coach bus, standing passengers were not allowed. One boxer decided he was going to get a seat regardless. She grabbed his arm, but he snatched away from her grip.

She told a police officer and another volunteer who were standing outside of the bus, "They are not supposed to touch me!" Then she snapped at the guy, "Do you want to walk to the hotel? It can be arranged!" He probably didn't understand English, but there was no mistaking that everyone on the bus knew she was ticked off. She told someone via her walkie-talkie, "These guys don't respect a woman in charge!" as she reported the boxer's behavior before the bus took off. That's been a major problem throughout the entire event.

Jordon, a guy who showed up once a few weeks ago, returned to the gym last night. He claimed he just now scraped together money for the gym fee. Then he proceeded to tell JJ about his training regime, which included shadowboxing with 10 pound weights strapped around his arm. JJ was giving him pointers on how to use free weights during shadowboxing to make his hands faster, but Jordan wasn't listening. That was the first strike. After all that pumped up talk in the hall about training, Jordon didn't do much once the gym door was open. He spent some of his time just staring at people when he wasn't half-doing the moves he claimed he already knew how to do. He had pointedly ignored me and Nina, the only two women in the gym. That was the second strike, so I didn't feel the need to act friendly.

In fact, he stepped on my foot twice while doing some light sparring with Ben. The sparring was a no-no, because Steve hadn't approved it. I was sitting off to the side, watching. I hoped Jordan wouldn't accidently hurt Ben. The whole time Jordon was bragging on his dubious skills: "Man, I could have hit you twenty times by now!" He wasn't aware of the space they had -- they were sparring amongst the heavy bags -- which is how my foot was stepped on. The second time, I pointed out to Jordon that he needs to watch out. He told Ben, "Let's move over here," but he never apologized to me. That was the third strike.

Steve was in the middle of showing Andy something, and Jordon felt the need to interrupt by giving Andy advice. Since he had already struck out, I didn't know what to call that. I knew Steve didn't care for that much, but to his credit, he held back on calling Jordan on it. It was hard to tell what was up with Jordan. I've said it before -- boxing gyms attract some odd folks, and it looks like we've got another one.