Turning Into Dad

Maybe I should blame Pastor Roger for putting a jinx on me.  Earlier today, he noticed that I had made the mistake of omitting a date on the church's August calendar.  "If you'd go to bed before 3:00 AM, that would cut down on mistakes," he smiled.  While at home this afternoon, I dozed off.  When I woke up again, the old clock on the bookcase informed me that the gym had been open for over an hour.  There was no way I would have gotten there on time to get in any kind of workout.

When I was a teenager, I would see my dad taking naps, and I would be critical.  "How can he sleep so much?  And during the day on top of that?" I'd think.  His primary job with Cook County required that he had to be there extremely early in the morning.  His part-time job, driving a Checker Cab, often found him working at odd hours during the week and on the weekends.   It never occurred to me that the old man was actually tired, and those siestas would come upon him sometimes whether he wanted them or not. Dad was in his 40s then, and that type of schedule would be hard on anyone, let alone, a middle-aged man.

Of course, I wasn't happy when I figured out I had overslept.  Unless I'm sick or some emergency has happened, I seldom miss a night at the gym (the only other exception was when I worked briefly as an usher at the Lyric Opera and missed days here and there).  Like Dad, I have been dozing off more often during the day than usual.  This past Saturday, I dozed off late in the afternoon and didn't wake up again until 11:30 PM.  I was up all night because of that.  Most weekday afternoons, I find myself struggling to stay awake.  That is a major problem, considering that these days, I need to study for my paralegal classes. 

Whether this is due to age or menopause or both, this crap is got to stop.  Sometimes I do believe that sleep is overrated, but the only time I need to do that is at night, not at inopportune times during sunlight hours.

Gotta Eat Some To Give Some

"Did you box?" Alan asked me around five minutes to nine on Wednesday.  "You mean spar?  No, I didn't," I answered.  "Well, get ready.  You gotta speak up, Hillari," the coach told me.  Some folks have gotten miffed about being skipped for sparring, but I just figured time had run out that day, and that was it.  There's always the next time, I always figure. 

Earlier, he told me that Evangelina and I were going to spar.  However, Alan got into the ring with Evangelina first for a few rounds.  I was working on one of the heavy bags and trying to watch the action and give advice at the same time.  Eventually I had to stop and give all of my attention to the action in the ring.  Alan was doing his usual tricks.  He had sparred with Mike before then and told him, "I'm too old to be slick anymore, so I have to do something else."  "Oh, come on. . .you're pretty cagey," I told Alan.

Alan sometimes has his hands down, leaving his left jaw open to attack.  Every time I saw him do that, I told Evangelina to catch him with a right hook.  She also uppercut him several times, and popped him with jabs.  He was hit with some good side shots, too.  After the bell he told Evangelina, "Now I'm going to have to take some Excederin when I go home because of you."  They both were dead tired when they came out of the ring.

So Evangelina and I got into the ring at the end of the evening.  I had been working on the bags all night, so I figured I might only be good for one round, and not a good round at that.  From out of nowhere, I had a burst of energy once the bell rang.  I kept catching Evangelina with rights and hooks.  Off to the side, Alan joked to me, "Have you been taking strength enhancing drugs?"  He commented that she and I had some good exchanges when the round ended.

Alan called out during round two, "You've got to eat some punches to get some in," and I took quite of few of them in exchange for getting in my punches.  Evangelina hits hard, and does not get fazed by punches that come at her. One bomb she threw rocked me off balance; I almost fell to the canvas. I was so busy thinking about the next set of hits to throw, that I didn't notice how hard the next punch she threw really was.  It was weird.  It was only after she pulled back her left hand and I reset myself to attack that I noticed the room spun for a second.  "Whoa, I almost got knocked out," I thought to myself.  

I was happy that the round ended on a strong note, unlike what happened on Monday when I wimped out in the middle of a first round.  I was careful about not eating much before I came to the gym.  I had a couple of low-carb popsicles in the middle of the afternoon, and a few teaspoons of peanut butter an hour and half before I got to Loyola Park.  It's doesn't pay for me to go to the gym without eating a little something a couple of hours before, but having a full meal is not the way to go, either.  That's what partially did me in on Monday. 

Not Even Half A Round

It was a combination of old age, menopause and the grilled cheese sandwiches I ate a couple of hours before I went to the gym.  I couldn't even finish a half of a round sparring with Evangelina.  I got overheated, and I had to stop.  On top of that, I was nauseous.  "Are you okay?" Alan asked with concern.  Evangelina had a worried look on her face.  I was fanning myself furiously.  My stomach was queasy before I agreed to spar. But in my usual hard-headed fashion, I figured I would just play it off and keep going, if only for one round. 

During the rest of the night, I gave myself excuses to sit down often and/or chatter with the others as opposed to putting in a good, strong workout.  It was truly an off night for me.  Not long ago, I was talking to my niece Jalissa.  "Maybe I'm getting too old to take those hits," I said.  It's something I say all the time, but don't seriously think much about.  "You should think about your health, Auntie," Jalissa told me.  I try to do better.  I exercise two extra days outside of going to Loyola Park.  I cut down on having second and third helpings. But sometimes, I can't shake the feeling that some worse health issue -- other than the ones I already deal with -- is around some dark corner, waiting to smack the hell out of me.  Images of Dad and my sister Cindy laying in hospitals, and my brother Ken arriving DOA at an emergency room play in my mind often. 

But I keep going to the gym, I keep volunteering to spar, and I'm willing to take fights.  Over the weekend, I saw the documentary, Joan Rivers: A Piece Of Work.  The legendary comedianne could retire, but she has a drive to keep going on stage.  She mentioned that comedian Don Rickles is in his late 80s and the late comedian George Burns, who died when he was 100 years old, kept going almost to the end.  "I want to be like them," she said.  I could stop boxing (and those who have been telling me to stop for years would love for me to do that), and perhaps find something else to do.  But I have to keep fighting.  It makes me believe that I have a weapon against the unknowns -- health and otherwise -- that wait in the shadows.

Hot Boxing

No change in the temperature in the gym.  Josh suggested turning on the window fan that built into the wall in the back of the gym.  The fan came on, but didn't offer much relief. 

 Jamil sparred with Anthony, and Anthony sparred with Mike.  Evangelina and I sparred for two rounds.  I protected my head better than I did the last time, but she got in a good punch to my nose.  "Ow!  Keep your hands up!" I silently ordered myself. The picture below was taken right after Evangelina and I sparred; Evangelina took the picture.

Professor brought his brother Miles with him, and Mike brought in his friend Jack.  Miles was really working the speed bag.  I was surprised to find out later that he'd never had a fight.  Miles is a Park District volunteer, like I am.  Alan said that he thought it was okay for Miles to keep working out at the gym, but he told Miles to clear it with Mary first. 

Professor's already has his mind on next year's Golden Gloves.  "Is the gym open more hours when the Gloves is going on?" he asked me.  "Yes, the coach will open it up, usually on weekends, so that people can get extra training in."  Professor wants to start sparring again in September.  That'll be just in time for Loyola Park's boxing show. 

An amateur match is coming up soon at the Chicago Fight Club, and I want to go to that.  That's the gym where Antonio trains, and I've long been curious about the place.  One of these days, I'll actually do a workout at the Chicago Boxing Club, and I'll return to do some workouts at JABB Gym.  Actually, I need to go up to Hamlin.  Bill told me a long time ago that I could get some sparring up there, but school and other obligations have kept me from going.

Big Man and the Contender

Another hot night in the gym, although the temps had gone down a little outside.  JJ stopped by and talked about his adventures in Colorado.  The fight he lost there was the first one he had.  If he had won, he would have had three or four more to get the championship.

I took a quick break to fill up the water bottles, as Jamil and Eric got ready to spar.  Walking up the hallway, I spotted Leon at the front desk.  "Oh, no!" I thought, knowing that JJ was in the gym. I still remember that intense sparring session they had that left Leon hanging over the ropes.  But JJ was just visiting, and Leon cut his workout short.

JJ told me why he and Gio were not working together anymore.  It was just a matter of JJ feeling that Gio's training style didn't match his.  He said that Gio's been cool about the break-up, but he suspects that the older man may still be disappointed that JJ didn't continue with him. 

"There's no one for Hillari to spar with," Alan smiled.  None of the other women (Evangelina, Shay, Joan) were there.  "That's okay; I'm trying to avoid hot flashes," I said. 

JJ and I talked about people we knew who used to hang around Loyola Park.   I told him about running into Sam some time ago, and Igor coming in.  He was surprised to learn that Danny -- who wasn't there that evening -- had come back around.  "I haven't seen Montrell in a long time," I said, referring to the kid who was the star of the youth boxing program.  JJ hinted that Montrell might have gotten into some trouble with the law.  I hope that's not true. 

James, or Professor, as he likes to be called, came in again.  He has trained over at Seward Park, which is near where my late dad lived.  Professor would like to do some sparring in the future.  "I'm a good fighter," he said.  "I see that you're modest," Alan grinned. 

The Sauna

A window was open and the fan was on, but it was like a sauna in the gym.  "You could lose a few pounds in here by sweating," I told Anthony, and he agreed.  "It does feel a little better in here with a window open," he said, but it was downright steamy in the place.  Anthony sparred with Ralphie, and the both of them seemed worn out between rounds.  It had to be the heat.

I was up for sparring, but neither Shay or Evangelina wanted to do so.  Evangelina said she was sore from the last time.  She also is training for a marathon, and that compounded the pain she was already feeling.  I pulled out my punch mitts and worked on bobbing and weaving with the both of them. 

The results from the National Boxing Championships in Colorado were posted this morning on the Internet.  I learned that JJ lost by decision to an opponent.  That's gotta be frustrating for him.  The option for him to go pro is still wide open, however.

Yesterday, I got a workout in at church.  There's a youth group visiting from an Indiana church.  The Indiana associate pastor, Aaron, used to help with the youth at our church.  They were helping Virginia with arranging and folding clothes for the food/clothes pantry in the gym.  "Don't worry, I only need a corner to shadow box," I told them.  One of the girls who regularly attends our church, Jaszyln, was pleased when I played "I Want You Back" by The Jackson Five.  "Can I turn this up?  I love this song," she said.  I heard her singing along when "ABC" played a little while later.  Jaszyln is thirteen years old, and I was impressed that she knew those 40 year old songs. 

Pastor Roger walked into the gym briefly, saw me, gave a small smile and walked back out.  He had told the Indiana youth group that they might see me working out in the gym.  When the hour was up, one of the girls in the youth group -- Whitney -- said, "Aw, you're not taking the music from us are you?"  Christy, Aaron's wife, commented, "The music was really energetic!"  I was being real mindful of what I was playing.  "RUN DMC's Greatest Hits" got some play, too, but I had to skip some songs that I thought might have offended people.  It was hot in the church gym, but not as hot as the gym at Loyola Park.

My Achilles Heel

Evangelina and I sparred.  I was thinking that it was going to be a good sparring session as it usually is with her.  She immediately went hunting for my head and connected.  I had no answer the first couple of times she clocked me. I thought all I had to do was regroup and get back in the game. Alan kept telling me to "pop the jab" and go for her mid-section.  I heard him, but I couldn't make it work.

Evangelina successfully kept up her campaign against my noggin.  I was backed up into the corners, and against the ropes.  A few times, I turned my back, which is never a good idea.  "Are you okay?" Alan asked.  "Yeah," I lied, as I backed away from Evangelina to get air and stave off a wave of nausea.  Stubbornly, I put my hands up, ready to go back into battle.  Evangelina's punches were harder than usual.  I attempted to move my head, but didn't get far.  It was as if a general called out "Incoming!", and I was the one dumb soldier in the clearing who thought my knife was going to work against a missile. 

The bell did ring finally, and I was hanging over the ropes.  "I don't know what happened.  I feel off," I told Alan.  "That's it, you're done, come out," he said, pulling off my sparring gloves.  Later he told me what I already knew.  I got foggy because of taking too many hits to my head.  It happened before while I was sparring with Chloe a few months ago.  It also was the case when I was fighting with Meg the second time at Brooks Park.  Once an opponent keeps consistently targeting my head -- and I become extremely ineffective in protecting it -- then they've won the contest. 

Soldier Diva

Alan was telling Josh that he has to decide what he wants out of boxing.  He noticed me holding the pads for Josh earlier.  He suggested that Josh be more focused about executing punches.  Josh has to remember the the numbers of the punches, too, and that does take time.  It took me a minute to remember that one equals the left jab, and two equals the right, and so forth, when I first started.  "Hillari's a good trainer," Josh told Alan.

"She's always willing to spar.  I ask her each time if she's ready, and she always says 'yep'.  She's a soldier," Alan told him.  I have had a few  off nights where I didn't spar because I'm wasn't feeling well, or I was sore from the last sparring session.  But I'd rather spar most times when I'm in the gym.  Not long ago, I heard Alan saying that a person must spar in order to get the technique down.  That is especially true if one plans to compete.  I didn't spar often when Steve was running the gym.  I wasn't getting fights then, but now that I have been, I see the benefits of a good sparring session.  Each time I'm in the ring, I learn that I need to always be in the mode of improving. 

Evangelina and I had a good sparring session last night that lasted three and a half rounds (we started in the middle of the first round).  She got a few good clean rights to my face, and executed some other good combinations to my head.  I did get a right in, and a couple of hooks.  "Does she hit harder than Meg?" Alan asked, referring to the woman I had two fights with late last year.  "No, Meg hits harder," I answered, but Evangelina is no slouch in that department. 

Anthony showed off a pair of new gloves he brought from Ringside.  They gave him a good deal because of some discoloration on the gloves.  After using them to spar with Eric, he said the gloves felt good.

Jamil sparred with Ralphie, and kept getting caught in the corners.  Alan barked at Jamil not to do that, but it kept happening.  At one point, Alan threw up his hands in frustration.  I noticed blood on Jamil's shirt after that, but I couldn't tell who was bleeding.  Jamil joked that it was blood from Carlos (who didn't sign up for the summer session).  "Ralphie whipped me up," Jamil grinned.  

A look at the Park District boxing show schedule listed a show at Sheridan Park tonight, but Alan had plans for some of us to go to Garfield Park next week.  There aren't many women who fight out of that field house, from what I remember.  But I'm sure that a few of the guys can get matched up. 

"You gotta keep Wednesdays and Thursdays open," Paulette told me the other day when I said I wouldn't be attending the church's Family Nights (Vacation Bible School).  Thursdays are when the choir practices, although they aren't doing so now because it's summer.  Maybe, just maybe, I might consider going to Family Nights if it a) was scheduled on another night other than Wednesday and b) it wasn't inundated with kids.  When I miss time in the gym for various reasons (illness, church functions, school, etc.), I feel off that week.  It's true that boxing has an addictive quality to it. 

No Monday Gym

I walked home from Evanston Saturday afternoon.  I passed the field house on the way back, and decided to check the front door.  Like I suspected, there was a sign on the door stating the field house would be closed on Monday in observance of the 4th of July holiday.  I called Alan and left a message so that he knew.

I didn't bring my gym gear to church today, so no workout will be done here.  Unfortunately, there's a report of showers on and off for today.  I hate getting caught in the rain while on my bike, and I don't dare get the ball bearings on my in-line and quad skates wet.  My apartment retains heat, so working out in there is not feasible, either.  Maybe I'll skip today and add a day later in the week. 

Sleep didn't go well last night, and none of the fans in my apartment helped to cool things down.  I was up late enough to see a rerun of "Peter Gunn".  In one scene, Gunn walked into a boxing gym.  One guy was beating on a heavy bag.  "What kind of way is he hitting that bag?" I said to myself.  The guy was jumping all around the bag, throwing awkward punches.  TV and movies don't always get it right when it comes to the sport. 

Somebody asked me how realistic the movie Million Dollar Baby was around the time it was released.  Good movie, but the main character seemed to move up in the ranks rather quickly.  Since women's boxing doesn't get the respect it should have, and it's doubtful that a contender would get that kind of fame so fast.  First of all, she'd have to get the type of fights that would get her noticed.  That's not easy, as promoters don't recognize the value of having female fights at boxing matches, not even on the undercards.  Plus, she'd need a press to get her name out there.  Too many sports reporters treat women's boxing as a joke (and honestly, do they really give any woman in any sport much attention?).  I read The Ring, the most popular boxing magazine in the country, every month.  Even Laila Ali in her heyday didn't get big attention there, unlike her male counterparts. 

Our Own Wolfman

Evangelina squared off against Nick in the ring.  She handled herself fine, blocking his punches, and getting in quite a few good ones.  We found out that she has one brother, who is younger than she is.  "We thought you had a lot of brothers that you had to fight to get to the dinner table," Alan chuckled.  She is also a 6th grade school teacher.

Josh came in, but just as he and I were going to work on the punch mitts, Alan asked me to suit up.  I went in the ring with Shay.  She threw more punches than she did the last time, but there were still moments when she was turning her back.  Shay can throw hard punches, but she doesn't often throw them full out.  I threw many hooks, some of which landed, but I did not put full force on them. 

Alan said that Joan was bleeding a little bit after she sparred with Evangelina on Monday.  I didn't notice that she was.  We wondered aloud if that was why she didn't come to the gym tonight. 

Anthony is becoming like Carlos, just going and going in the ring.  He was in with Nick and Matthieu for several rounds.  Matthieu is over six feet, and Anthony is about 5 foot 7.  Matthieu laughed that he should have been able to get more punches in on Anthony because he has a longer reach. 

Alan was going to change his shirt at the end of the night, but he didn't have an extra dry with him.  He had to put his workout shirt back on.  "You don't have to put your shirt back on," I started joking, and he explained why he had to do so.  "But you're denying women the pleasure of seeing your hairy chest," I laughed.  Alan grinned, saying, "At my age it doesn't matter.  You know what Leon used to call me? Teen Wolf."  Ralphie smiled, "It fits." 

Busy On Monday

Practically everybody was in on sparring action Monday night.  "It's busy in here tonight," Eric commented.  It reminded me of the old days when sparring was back to back, usually on Friday nights. 

I went two rounds with Shay.  "I'm going in with a professional!" she joked.  Not long ago, Autumn, a young lady at church, told one of the boys that I was a professional boxer.  Ruth, another person at church, often introduces me that way, too.  I chuckled.  Matthieu told Shay, "She beat me up when we were in the ring.  My eyes were shut for three days."  He was exaggerating, of course.  While sparring, I kept telling her not to turn her back on me, and so did Alan.  "You have to return the punches.  Hillari's not hitting that hard," Alan told her, and I wasn't.  Afterwards, Shay told Alan, "I need more practice."

Evangelina sparred with Joan.  Joan did not extend her punches all the way.  Meanwhile, the longer armed Evangelina came over Joan's punches with her own.  Like Shay, Joan kept turning her back a lot in the ring, which is a major no-no.  Joan did not want to go a second round, so Alan stepped in.  "Where's your headgear?" I asked.  "Don't need it," he said. 

I called out directions to Evangelina from the side, especially when I saw Alan preparing to use a bolo punch.  "That's Alan's sneaky punch," I warned her.  The coach usually has his left hand down, leaving himself open to left hooks.  Evangelina popped him right in the head.  "Whoa!" I exclaimed, before laughing.  Eric was on the other side of the ring watching.  He told Alan in-between rounds that Evangelina must have had a lot of brothers at home, which is why she punched so well.  "She hits hard, and keeps her composure in the ring," Alan would say later.

Alan and Matthieu sparred, and I noticed that the younger man often used both hand to deflect punches.  Not a good habit to have because that means both hands are down for a second.  The opponent can use that time to throw a good combination.  He was also crossing his feet which throws a boxer off balance.  Once I pointed that out, Matthieu corrected himself.  Alan caught him up against the ropes a few times, and Matthieu grabbed him to slow down the assault. 

Just realized that I forgot to tell Danny to check out my church's web site for White Sox tickets.  Danny's a big fan.  Pastor Roger has some that he got for participating in judging a youth essay contest.  Hopefully, Danny will come in on Wednesday.  I need to tell the other guys that, too, just in case they are interested in baseball. 

At the end of the evening, Alan, Nick, Matt (Alan's son), and I passed BK on the way out.  Alan mentioned that he heard about a fight that took place outside of the field house.  BK had broken it up.  It was the first fight that had taken place around the field house this season of which I'm aware.  "I'd rather them fight on the outside than inside the building," BK said.  On my way home from work earlier in the afternoon, I saw a group of kids scrapping briefly on the corner of Morse and Ashland.  One kid literally kicked the seat off another kid's bike.  Have no idea was the fight was about, but it looked unnecessary, as most youth street fights are.  Like BK said, it would better if they'd use that aggressiveness to good use in the boxing gym.

The Big Man Returns

Alan mentioned that John contacted him.  Turns out that the high school teacher is out working in San Franscisco for a little while.  He told Alan that he'd be back in Chicago in August.  Anthony was sure that John had given up on boxing since he didn't win at the Golden Gloves.  I told Alan and Anthony a story about Sean, a guy who used to come to the gym a few years ago.  He had a fight in the Golden Gloves.  Before he even got in the ring, Sean was bleeding.  I remember Josh and I exchanging looks when we saw his towel laying in the bleachers.  Sean lost that fight, and stopped coming to gym after that.

Joan and I only went one round in the ring.  I went light, but Joan kept coming.  I covered up most of the time to give her the opportunity to get punches in.  After that round, she was tired, but she said it was fun. 

Alan caught me in the left eye again, and then flicked out his left jab and caught me in my nose.  It still stings today.  Alan said he was sorry afterwards, and that sometimes, he's not sure how hard he's throwing a punch.  "I guess you must have been okay because you answered my punch with some hard ones of your own," he smiled. 

While Alan and I were in the ring, he also got me in the stomach with a right.  Then both of us heard someone say, "Bully!"  I didn't have my glasses on, of course, but I made out the figure of a tall, muscular guy.  "Is that Leon?" I asked.  Sure enough, it was.  He has slimmed down, but he's still a buff man.  "I'm ready for some fights, Alan," Leon told the coach.  When he said he could beat anyone in the gym, Ralphie laughed and pointed out, "Except for JJ."  "I can beat JJ and his twin," Leon replied. 

Girl With The Hard Right

I went two rounds in the ring with Matthieu on Monday (that's the correct French spelling of his name, I believe).  "Please don't kill me," he laughed before the bell rang.  Matthieu is tall and gangly.  I went easy, but it would have been difficult to do any real damage because he has long arms.  He kept me off of him for the most part.  Alan said to me, "Because of his height, you'll have to use the overhand right."  It worked once or twice, but I couldn't use it much after that.

Evangelina and I were in the ring next, and she had no mouthpiece.  I had to be conscious of not hitting her dead on in her face.  I also had to remind myself to keep my left guard up.  Evangelina has a very good right, which she relied on a lot. 

My head was on fire when I took my head protection off.  I sat on one of the chairs/stools near the lockers and fanned myself furiously.  Eric noticed and said, "It's hot, huh?"  "Hot flashes," I replied.  "Not already?" he said.  "Yeah.  I found out a few months ago," I told him.  "That just makes this more complicated, doesn't it?" he smiledd, and I agreed.

Anthony showed up that night, too.  He said that he wasn't in the last session because he had been told by someone on the field house staff that registration for adult boxing was closed.  That's odd he was told that because that program is never packed so much that there is no room.  The gym does get crowded often, but people drop out all the time, only to be replaced by others who sometimes sign up in the middle of a session.

The showing-too-much-skin issue arose again.  It seems to be coming up a lot lately.  Yesterday, I worked out in the church gym.  Just at the end of the hour, an older woman rang the doorbell.  She wanted to speak with Pastor Roger, but he was out to lunch.  "Are you on staff?" she asked.  I was wearing an oversized shirt, the straps of my sports bra was peeking out, and the shirt covered the shorts I was wearing. 

Later when the pastor returned, he said that he was familiar with the woman, who had been by the church several times in the past.  "She would have a problem with the way you're dressed," he told me.  Noticing that she had given me odd looks, I wanted to tell her, "Yes, ma'am, I am wearing a pair of shorts, even though you can't see them," but I held my tongue.  She's not buying my clothes, so she had no say so over my choices, therefore, I was in my right to put her on ignore.  Besides, it was 90 degrees yesterday.  If I wanted to have a heat stroke while working out -- or walking around outside, for that matter -- I'd worn a snow suit.

No, I'm Not Pregnant, Just Fat

My thumb and middle finger on my right hand (that finger was injured on Monday as well) was good enough to tolerate sparring this past Wednesday.  Once again, I was paired up with Alan.  We started in the middle of the first round, ending up doing two rounds and a half.  Before the last round started, Alan told me, "I'm going to get you in this next round."  Shay and Evangelina were watching from the other side of the ropes, and their eyes grew bigger.  "See how he treats me?" I joked to them.

No knockdown this time, but I was hit in both eyes, and took some shots to my stomach.  Try as I might, I could not break through Alan's defense to give him an uppercut.  That punch is the least used when I spar, and I wish for once I could get one in and make it count. 

The gym was filled mostly with newbies that night, with the exception of Danny, Ralphie, Jamil and Eric.  No sign of Stacey, Roshawn or Toya.  Eric showed me a picture of his oldest son (another child is on the way), an adorable boy who was posed on top of a motorcycle. 

I'm still adjusting my schedule to accommodate school and the studying/homework that comes with it.  Normally, I would have done a boxing workout at church yesterday.  Since the weather was cooperating, I rode my bike for a few hours instead.  The trail I took -- the North Channel Trail -- has some uphills that are hard, hard labor to manuever.  I kept adjusting the gears on my bike, but that didn't help a lot.  "I wish had taken some Advil before I left the house", I thought to myself after my knees protested.  Some of the city streets I rode along weren't any better.  Encountering speed bumps are just as annoying on a bike as they are when one is driving a car. 

I was supposed to start doing crunches this week.  I used to be able to do 50 of them at a time about a couples of years ago.  I fell out of the habit.  Now I have to build myself back up to that number and beyond.  If I do 10 a day, or every other day, I should be able to do it.  The strongest indicators that my gut has gotten out of control was a) when my stepmother asked me suspiciously back on Thanksgiving, "Why is your stomach so big?" and b) too many guys on the street asking me if I'm pregnant.  Apparently, a lot of people can't tell the different between being fat and being pregnant.  Not wishing to be mistaken for any woman who is, I need to whittle down my middle. 

Too Close To The Mirror

I was a bit surprised to see several people waiting outside of the gym on Monday night.  It was the first evening of the summer session and all of them -- Shay, Mike (not to be confused with Country--the other Mike), Evanglina, Joan and Matthew (not to be confused with Matt from last session or Alan's son) -- were curious about what was to come.  Alan came in later with his son and Nick.  Country, Jamil and Diana were also in attendance.

Alan began working with the newcomers right away, while the rest of us did our usual workouts.  Country and Jamil sparred, but I only caught glimpses of what they were doing.  I was shadowboxing in the mirrors while they were in the ring.  In between rounds, I was fanning myself because it was warm.  Matthew, who's from France commented, "It is a workout, isn't it?"  I agreed with him.  He's very tall and has long arms.  Alan was impressed with how he picked up on punching form. 

Diana is improving, too, but she still struggles with the soreness that comes from using muscles that aren't utilized often.  Many who first learn to box have to deal with being sore in spots where they never were before. 

Then there are those who have to deal with the constant knocks that come with having boxed for awhile.  I iced the thumb on my right hand up when I got home, but woke up to it being swollen this morning.  Alan and I sparred, and my thumb caught him in an odd way on his elbow.  He had to remind me to go for his head.  I still struggle with going for anyone's face unless they are roughly my height.  Unfortunately, outside of people like Maggie and Oscar, who attended the gym in the past, there's nobody as short as I.  A few shots managed to catch Alan in the head and face a few times, but that was it. 

A common problem for boxers -- having one's hands down -- was literally my downfall in the second round.  Alan hit me square in the face, and I fell backwards onto the canvas.  He kept apologizing over and over.  "It's okay, I'm fine.  You just caught me, that's all," I assured him, and I was.  There was a little bruise on my lower lip, and I tasted a little blood, but nothing else.  We finished out the round. 

Earlier, Alan sparred with his son Matt.  He kept backing the younger man up into the corners and getting him with shots to the middle.  After awhile, Matt would automatically cover up, anticipating the body blows.  He got his father with a few head shots, but the older man proved to be very cagey.  I sparred with Alan right after he sparred with Matt, thinking, "Coach is going to be tired," but I underestimated him as well.

Matt is planning to come into the gym more now that he's home from school.  He also trains elsewhere in MMA.  "You've lost some weight," he said.  "I need to lose some more, but thanks," I told him.  "No, you look fine," he said.  I was wearing a red workout shirt and red shorts, but I was regretting the fashion choice.  I thought I looked like a sausage that has been stuffed into too small of a casing.  Other people have said that I've lost pounds, but I'm guess I'm too close to the mirror to really see it. 

Stripping In The Gym

Sorry. . .it's usually not like me to forget to post here.  I did attend the gym this past Wednesday.  My mind's been on school.  Had a hard time signing up for paralegal classes, but it appears that things are on the way to straightening themselves out.  In fact, I had a Legal Writing class today that was quite interesting.  I was doing a bit of studying when I realized, hey!  I didn't tell the loyal readers about the latest adventures in the gym.

I was not in the gym this past Monday because I had another class.  It was basically a one-day seminar, so Mondays are free again for me to hit the bags.  Wednesday was somewhat of a light night.  One new person came in, a guy named Nick who's a friend of Alan's son, Matthew.  Ralphie and Jamil came in a little while later.

I don't jump rope often at the gym, even though I need to do so.  Surprised myself by going four rounds with the jump rope, and not being overly winded.  Unfortunately, my speed rope, the one I use when working at in the church gym, broke in such a way that it can't be fixed.  I might buy another one to use there, or just run around the gym for several rounds like I've been doing.  The running (roadwork) seems to be helping a lot with stamina.  But yet I turned down going a third round of sparring with Ralphie on Wednesday.  I could have done another round.  I think I was just being lazy. 

Jamil took a lot of body shots from Ralphie while they were sparring.  Alan was amazed.  "I'm surprised that Jamil is still standing after that," he said.  Josh, a guy who hadn't been in the gym for awhile, stopped to observe them.  I might have laid down on the canvas after that series of punches.  "That guy," he said, referring to Ralphie, "really handles himself well in the ring."  Ralphie has always been in control whenever he's in the ring, if you ask me.  Also, Jamil has become better each time he's in the gym. 

Earlier in the evening, Alan changed out of his dress shirt to put on his workout shirt.  Nothing usual there -- I've seen most of the guys with their shirts off from time to time.  I was at my locker rambling through my stuff when I hear Alan say, "Hillari, turn your head."  I looked at him, not catching on at first.  Then I noticed him unbuckling his pants.  "Oh," I giggled before turning my back to start doing my stretches.  "I know you want to look," he teased, and I just kept laughing.  I told him about the time when Steve was the coach, and he pulled down his pants to change into his shorts.  Steve forgot that I was in the room, and my niece Jalissa , who was a teenager then, was there that day also.  Jalissa didn't see Steve with his pants down, but I did.  She and I were looking over the ring, and both of us had our back to him.  One of the guys hollered out, "Whoa!" to Steve, who then realized what he was doing.  I turned around in time to get a glimpse of his briefs. The man grinned and turned a few shades of red before hastily pulling his britches back up.

Another time, Steve asked JJ to get on the scale.  I believe this was around the time of the Golden Gloves, so Steve wanted to make sure that JJ's weight was where it needed to be.  "I think your pants are adding weight to the scale.  Take them off and see what it reads then," Steve told him.  I was standing behind JJ near the ring.  JJ turned and noticed me and said, "But Hillari's in here."  "Eh, she's seen it before," was Steve's answer.  I chuckled and said, "That's true."  At least JJ wasn't wearing an ugly pair of boxers like the ones my late dad used to wear.

I changed my clothes in the gym once, but no one was in there except me.  I was the first one to get there, and I didn't want to leave the room unattended, so I quickly got into my workout clothes.  Good thing none of the guys walked in on me.  I wouldn't have wanted to be responsible for traumatizing them with the sight of my middle-aged body.

Last Day of the Session

You know how someone you haven't seen in a long time crosses your mind, then you happen to run into them?  Danny walked into the ring Wednesday evening.  He and Jermaine used to be regulars at Loyola Park Gym when Steve was still the coach.  Danny is now 24 years old, a born-again Christian, and he supervises a building in Evanston.  I was really surprised to see him, and it was great to see him in the gym again.  He wants to start working out again.  He told me that he sees JJ from time to time whenever he goes into Home Depot (JJ works there). 

Carlos was back in the gym, too, and he sparred with Mike, Jamil and Ralphie. During the session with Mike, I heard a commotion and turned around to see Carlos down on on knee, coughing.  He pulled off his headgear, then he rolled over onto his back.  Oh, no. . .not another low blow, I thought.  "What happened?" I asked him.  "I just got tired out," Carlos said.  Diana watched the sparring with interest, but she told Alan she still wasn't ready to get into the ring. 

Later, Jamil stopped in the middle of his sparring session with Carlos, clutching his chest and doubling over.  Ralphie grabbed one of the buckets, and Jamil threw up into it.  "I just couldn't breathe," he told us, and the sparring match was over.  "That's what almost happened to me!" Carlos said, referring to his time in the ring with Mike.  "I've never seen someone throw up at ringside before," Alan said, taking Jamil's headgear.  "I saw a kid throwing up during a match at Garfield Park a few summers ago.  It looks as if he had eaten too close to the match," I said. 

I sparred with Jamil for three rounds.  I was winded afterwards, but not as bad as I usually am.  Earlier that day, I had run to catch a bus to get to work.  The regular exercise must be working, because I wasn't wheezing once I caught it. 

Barry left me a message that JJ is on his way to the Nationals.  JJ stopped his previous three opponents early on during the matches he had with them.  Mike told me that JJ's story was featured in the Chicago Tribune; Danny told me he saw a story about JJ in the Evanston Review.  Very exciting stuff indeed.

Am I showing too much skin at church? I wondered. Virgina had told me that someone else who came by the church earlier in the week saw me and thought all I had on was a long T-shirt.  I could probably get away with wearing a long T-shirt as a dress as short as I am.  All I would have to do is accessorize.  I've known women who are more petite than I am who've done just that.  But I'm always worried about a strong wind blowing the T-shirt up at the wrong time, so I don't dare. 

The shorts I do own are, well, short, but they don't quite qualify as Daisy Dukes or hot pants.  Most of my T-shirts are long, so, yes, sometimes it appears that I'm only wearing a T-shirt.  I have to be mindful of pulling my shirt up a little (or stuffing part of it in my shorts) once in a while so that my shorts are visible.  A guy on the street was admiring my legs yesterday as I made my way to a mail box to send off some birthday cards addressed to church members.  "I saw those legs, so I had to get fresh," he smiled.  I just laughed and thanked him.  That's how I got my last boyfriend; it was summer, and he kept seeing me walking by in shorts.  "Nice legs," he told a friend of his before finally getting my phone number. 

The guys in the gym make no comment about my shorts, but then that's the gym, not church.  I asked Pastor Roger about it, and he said basically, "don't do -- or wear something -- that might make your brother stumble."  Every woman has at least one part of her body that she really likes and tends to show off.  It used to be my eyes, but these days, I look more like my father around that area.  More Oil of Olay is in order.  I've fallen back on showing off my legs.  Of course, it's not my intention to play a like a "fast girl" (as my grandmother used to say) at church.  I don't have to dress up every day there, so I'm just wearing what's comfortable. 

However, on the street, it makes the 'ol middle gal feel good to get catcalls on her legs from men, especially the younger ones (smile).

Running In The Church

I pulled the speed jump rope out of my gym back this morning when I got to Rogers Park Baptist Church.  But then I thought that I really didn't want to jump rope.  Both knees were bothering me, the right one more than the left.  But I had to do something to get my heart rate up.  "Why not jog?" I thought.

My personal training timer is always set to three-minute rounds just like in the gym at Loyola Park.  I thought I was going to have to stop to catch my breath as I ran around the church gym, but I didn't have to do that.   My knees were still tender, but the pain was not unbearable.  After a second round of jogging, I figured I could go for a third.  "If I do four, 15 minutes will have gone by.  Fifteen minutes is a mile," I thought.  When the end of the forth round came, I was feeling okay.  My stamina seems to be slowly going up.

I was smelling like a big dog, too.  On Thursdays, I just brush my teeth, put on the clothes I'll workout in, grab my gym bag and go straight to church.  I bring a change of clothes to put on after I take a shower upstairs.  When Pastor Roger came into the gym briefly to check on the tables that will be needed for a potluck this upcoming Sunday, I was hoping he wouldn't get too close to me to pick up the scent. 

There are no mirrors in the gym, so I can't accurately check my form while I'm shadow boxing.  I had a half a mind to shadow box in the mirror that's in the choir room, but I thought against it.  There's not really enough room to move around, and I didn't want to transport the radio back and forth. 

I just noticed today that the boombox has a tape player on it. . .another example of how slow I can be on the uptake sometimes.  I had been playing a tape on the way to church, so I took it out of my Walkman (yes, I still have one of those) and popped it into the boombox.  I was in the middle of jogging when the song, "I'm A Ho" by Whodini, a popular 1980's rap group came on.  "Whoops!  Can't play that in church!" I thought.  The round ended a few seconds into the song, and I quickly fast-forwarded the tape to something else. 

Sometimes it feels that my regular exercise is getting easier.  Or maybe that's something I just tell myself to keep doing it.  After all, it's not always a matter of wanting to do it, or even feeling like doing it most of the time.  It's under the category of needing to do it, and not just because of possible fights on my horizon.  I have health conditions that are helped greatly because of regular exercise. 

It also helps that I love boxing, and often imagine myself beating down an opponent while I shadow box.

This Sermon's For The Girl Boxer

I was the first one at the gym, and I was a little late.  There was a woman hanging around the front desk who was interested in signing up for the gym.  Jilberto opened the door, and she got a good look inside the place.  I answered the questions she had, and she was appreciative.  She went back down to the front desk to sign up, and said she would start on the first day of the summer session in June.

Alan came in a few minutes later.  "Just us two?" he asked, when he saw how empty the gym was.  Eventually, Ralphie, Diana, Jamil and Neville came in.  Yes, another quiet night, this time because it is near the end of the spring session. 

Jamil and Ralphie sparred.  I heard Ralphie ask Jamil if he hit him in the family jewels.  I turned to see Jamil looking tired and pained. 

Alan asked Diana about sparring again, but she said she didn't have her mouthpiece.  She and I did interval training on the heavy bag instead.  Diana lasted one round.  I did the second round with Jamil on the bag. 

Lately, Pastor Roger has been teasing me about beating people up.  In church this past Sunday, he told the kids during the children's sermon portion of the service that fighting with others is not good (the adults got the version that emphasized that conflicts among believers is not good).  "What happens when you hit someone?  What's the other person's usual response?  They hit back," he said.  "Not if you hit them hard enough the first time," I said from my position in one of the pews up front.  Several folks nearby laughed, and the pastor looked at me.  Today at lunch he smiled, "I was directing that sermon towards you!"  "See, I knew you were talking about me," I laughed.

The New Woman

Another night at the gym where few came in.  The weather was very nice on Monday, so that may have kept a lot of people out.  Alan was running late again, so Carolyn opened the door.  As I waited for her to to unlock the door, a tall, cheerful woman walked up to us.  "Is Mr. Alan in?" she asked.  "He hasn't made it in as of yet," Carolyn answered.  "This is where the boxing gym is?" she asked.  Carolyn and I confirmed that it was.  The woman asked if I was in the class, and when she found out I was she said,  "Good!  That's encouraging!"

I learned her name was RoShawn, and she has a teenaged daughter who used to come to the kids' boxing program.  Alan had a lot of extra time to work with her because Eric, Jamil and I were the only other people in the gym.  RoShawn watched as I sparred with Jamil.  Alan asked if she wanted to try it, and the next thing I knew, she had put gloves and headgear on and jumped in the ring with Jamil.  She was doing well until she got a charley horse in her leg.  "I probably did too much in one day," she told me, but she promised to come back on Wednesday. 

After she left, Alan marveled how willing RoShawn was to spar.  I was impressed, too.  "I don't get why most girls get scared.  They see other girls in here in the ring when they come in," he commented.  "You know most women aren't encouraged to hit people," I told him.  I'm very glad that my mother felt that women should know how to defend themselves and taught her daughters how to throw punches and kicks.  "But they have to get in to get used to it," Alan said. 

A guy named James came in to inquire about coming to the gym.  I heard him say he had a coach, but the coach didn't want to come up north to work with him.  Alan gave him some information, including telling him about the people in the gym who had been Golden Gloves contenders.  Before James left, I overheard him tell Alan, "Call me 'Professor'."  I guess it was because he wore glasses and looked scholarly.

Barry and the kids in the boxing program were not in the annual Gym Show that took place this past Friday.  I don't know why, since the kids' boxing program usually appears there.  Mary put in a last minute call to me to sing the National Anthem before the festivities began.  I like doing that, and the Gym Show is actually entertaining, so I went. 

Intervals With Diana

Both Alan and I asked Diana separately last night, "Do you have a mouthpiece?"  Before she went on vacation a couple of weeks ago, she stated that she would buy one while she was away.  She didn't have one with her yesterday.  "I don't think I'm ready," she told Alan when he asked her about sparring. 

I sparred with Jamil for three, count 'em, three whole rounds.  I haven't done that many rounds with anyone for a long, long, time.  "Good for you," Alan said, when I told him I would do a third round.  I practiced picking out my shots, but I was favoring body shots over head shots.  A few times I backed Jamil into a corner with side shots.  He grabbed me to stop my momemtum.  "Break!" Alan called out.

"So you're no longer nervous about fighting with the guys?" Diana asked me.  "I always fought boys.  I can count the fights I've had with girls when I was in grade and high school on four fingers," I told her.  They may have been a few more than that, but not much.  I hated fighting with girls when I was a kid.  They would swing their arms like windmills, throwing wild and sloppy punches.  I really got mad when they resorted to scratching.  That would set me off like Curly in that Three Stooges short where he would go nuts whenever, "Pop Goes The Weasel" was played.  Luckily, my mother taught me how to throw punches.  Once the scratching started, I would step back for a moment, watch for an opening, then zap them with a right or a left.  "Now, scratch me again, expleted deleted!" I'd yell. 

Alan suggested that Diana and I do a "burn out" (interval training) on the heavy bag.  Alan is a nice guy, but I noticed last night that he can really bark orders out.  "Time!  Go, go, go!  You gotta be quick!  Don't stop!  Keep those hands up!  Don't lose your form!" he repeated throughout the rounds.  Diana was a little slow about switching off to hold the bag for me when it was my turn.  She did pick up the pace of her punches when it was her 15 seconds on the bag, however. 

Most of the guys were MIA again last night.  Jamil, Donald and Ralphie were there.  While Ralphie sparred with Jamil, I noticed he'd put his left elbow up to ward off Jamil's right punches.  "Is that legal?" I asked him after they finished.  Ralphie laughed.  "I don't know if it's legal or not," he answered.  "What's that?" Alan asked.  "Hillari said I was hitting Jamil with my elbow," Ralphie said.  "No, he wasn't hitting him with it, just using it to defend against him," I said to Alan.

Later, as Alan drove me home, he grinned about his wife knowing him "like a book".  "I'd answer a question of hers, and she'd say, 'You're lying, Alan.'  I asked her how could she tell, ad she said it was a look that I got on my face that gave me away," he shook his head.  "Well, you also know how we women tend to remember things you told us 10 or 15 years ago.  We remember what you were wearing when you said it, what date it was, what day it was, and so on," I grinned.  "Yeah, how in the world do you all remember that stuff?  I just figured the best way not to get my wife mad is tell the truth," he said.

The Aches and Pains Have It

When I got to the gym, Mike was waiting by the gym door.  He hadn't been in for a long time.  He's now engaged, and plans to be married sometime next year. 

It was another evening that was light on people.  In addition to Mike, Eric, Donald, Jamil and St. Louis came in.  Alan didn't change out of his street clothes.  He had picked up a lawnmover a few days ago, and it messed with his back.  "I didn't think it was that heavy," he said, but sometimes, it's the things that happen we think are slight that end up hurting us. 

Both of my knees were bothering me, but I forced myself to jump rope for a couple of rounds. After church service yesterday, Yvonne asked if I was still boxing.  "Don't you have arthritis?" she inquired.  "Yeah, and sometimes I can't jump rope.  I have to substitute doing something else," I answered. 

During shadow boxing, I was doing my latest favorite combo:  two jabs to the body, then jab, right upstairs.  "Don't do that because you leave yourself wide open," Alan pointed out.  He was right.  My left hand down during the body shots left my left jaw open to hooks.  "I'd rather see you bend down and deliver a body shot with your right," Alan continued.  I tried that, and it worked.

Donald and I did interval training on a heavy bag, not long after I had done a couple of rounds and a half in the ring with Jamil.  I admit, I cheated a bit by throwing a lot of short uppercuts to the bag when it was my turn.  "You both have to punch like you normally do. . .throw the punches full out and straight," Alan told us.

Bobbing and weaving did a number on my right knee after awhile.  It went "ping!" at one point, and I was hopping around, trying to shake the pain away.  I found some natural remedies for arthritis online earlier today, but like natural meds tend to be, they were expensive.  I would like to try them at a later date, however. 

"My father told me thirty years ago that when I got older, boxing would take a toll on my body.  He was right," Alan said later as he was driving me home.  "The older I get, the more I'm realizing that's true, too," I said.  But boxing doesn't have an age limit.  There are folks older than me who regularly do a boxing workout, even if they don't spar or compete.  The sport has a magnetic draw for many.

Feeling The Age

Deo stopped in briefly last night.  "What happened to all the life in the gym?" he asked.  Good question.  Most people stayed away again yesterday evening.  Outside of Alan, only Jamil, Donald, Ralphie and myself were there.  The low attendance is a little troubling because the new summer session doesn't start until a month from now.  Usually, people go missing during the last couple weeks of the current session, not this early on.  Alan missed Deo by a few minutes, because he came in later.  "He looked good," I told Alan.  Deo was the guy who's eye socket had been broken by Leon a few months ago.

I didn't spar, although I could have moved around with either Jamil, Ralphie or Alan.  Donald likes working out on the bags, but I don't think he's too keen on sparring.  Alan opted not to change out of his street clothes, so Jamil and Ralphie worked with each other. 

When Alan asked why I wasn't sparring, I answered, "I'm feeling old today."  The day before, I had done my usual shadow boxing workout at church, and I worked out at church this morning.  My right knee is stiff, and it feels like its weighed down in fluid.  I only did a couple of rounds of jumping rope because of it.  While actually punching, I kept having to take short rests to give my left arm a break.  It was tight, as well as my middle and lower back.  I did put in a hour's work, however.  It's a good thing I give my body a rest Friday, Saturday and Sunday, but the recovery times seem to get longer.

The Floater's Already There

The rain and the damp, cool weather must have put most people off last night.  Only Jamil, Donald, and myself were in the gym, outside of Alan. Alan and I sparred.  Once again, my left eye took a shot.

A look in the mirror confirmed that my eye was red, but no other damage was visible.  I worry about that eye because it has a floater in it.  I don't know exactly how long it's been there, but I do know it started sometime after I was laid off from the agency two years ago.  I just woke up one morning and noticed a little dark wisp traveling across my pupil.  It's probably a little blood that seeped out from the vessels in my eye.  Who knows how it got there?  I don't remember taking extremely bad hits to my eye or head (other than what normally happens when I spar).  It's been time to see an eye doctor, but I need to find an inexpensive one that is knowledgeable about diabetes.  My father had cataracts, and at the time of his death, there was a tumor behind one of his eyes.  He refused to let doctors do anything about it.  I'd rather be more proactive about my sight.

A letter that I had forgotten I'd written to The Ring magazine was printed in their latest issue.  The issue has Manny Pacquiao on the cover (who by the way, won a political election in the Philippines recently).  A columinist wrote an article not long ago complaining about ring card girls, and I agreed with him.  Now if only "The Bible of Boxing" would cover more of the female boxing scene, I'd be very happy.

Owed a Half of a Round

Last night, Carlos and I began sparring in the middle of a round.  After that round ended, Alan told me, "You still owe me a half a round."  "You gonna do that to me?  As old as I am?" I said while I huffed and puffed.  "Yeah, you gotta push yourself," Alan smiled.

The next round proved that I have become better at covering up.  Deflecting punches is something I still need to work on, howver.  Carlos was going non-stop.  It was as if someone had put rocks in an oversized slingshot and fired them all at once.  I did get in hooks to his head and his body, but they were not effective in slowing down his onslaught.  I was done after that round.

Jamil sparred with Carlos, and there was blood around the collar of his white shirt.  It was hard to tell who was bleeding, as neither man had signs of crimson leaking.  Carlos had a bruise on the underside of his top lip, and Jamil had taken hits to the mouth as well.  But it still was a mystery as to whom had been cut.  It could have happened while Jamil was sparring with Demond earlier.  "My mom's gonna yell when she sees it," Jamil smiled.

I heard Alan ask Diana if she was going to spar.  "No, I don't have a mouthpiece," she answered.  She told him that she'll pick one up for next week.  The other women did not come into to the gym last night. 

This morning, I did my usual workout in the church gym.  "Tell me if the music is too loud," I told Pastor Roger before I went downstairs.  Today is the National Day of Prayer, and most churches are open for people to have some quiet time in the sanctuary.  It wouldn't do to have people in the sanctuary trying to focus on God and hearing some R&B and hip-hop floating up from below.  During the workout, I felt a little twinge in the middle of my upper back.  Several years ago, there was pain in that area after I helped a nurse lift my dad so she could change his bed sheets while he was in the hospital.  He was average height, but he was heavyset.  I didn't have enough leverage as I thought on my side to lift him.  That happened a couple a weeks before he passed away.  I ended up going to the chiropractor to have my back straightened out after that.  I hope that little twinge doesn't mean I reinjured myself.  

Carlos likes to cook.  He told me he had eaten some chicken fried steak with gravy, and that his son Justin really liked it.  He's trying to change his diet in order to get down in size.  Alan joked to me, "Did you eat the whole pizza you ordered Monday night?"  I had told him when he dropped me off at home that I was going to order one.  "I ordered lasagna instead, but I didn't eat the whole thing," I answered.  Having noticed that Paulette will save half of a restaurant meal to eat later, I made that suggestion to Carlos and Ralphie.  I've been doing that myself lately whenever I order out.  If I'm actually at a restaurant, I'll either save half to take home, or just leave it on my plate.  It is so true that most restaurants serve bigger portions than necessary. 

Paulette and I had gone to a luncheon this past Tuesday, so I didn't do my usual workout that day.  I'll have to do another one either tomorrow or Saturday.  I haven't done a kettlebell workout in awhile, so I may do that if I don't do another boxing workout at church. 

An Improvement In Punching

Chloe came in -- with Joe -- but other than that, none of the other women (Toya, Cynthia, Earleatha, Stacy) were present.  Chloe told me that she thinks she is experiencing some nerve damage in her left arm.  "I spar sometimes with an old man who's 65 years old.  He likes to hit me in the back of the head!  Maybe that caused it," she said.  I smiled, remembering a older man named Rocky (it's true) whom I did sparring drills with while I attended Degerberg Academy of Martial Arts.  He didn't pull punches, either.

I sparred with Carlos, who had already done several rounds with some of the other guys.  I did a combination where I jabbed to his body, then threw a jab and a right to his head.  "Nice!" Alan said, from the other side of the ropes.  Carlos stepped back and looked at me.  "Very nice," he commented.  The first round, I had a lot of energy.  I used a few of the other combinations that I have been practicing in the church's gym when I work out.  During the second round, my battery started running down, but I pushed myself to keep throwing some combinations instead of just one shots. 

Demond, who's originally from New York, asked me what I thought about Mayor Daley.  "The current one or his dad?" I asked.  Demond was amazed that the senior Daley had been in office for over two decades and that he remained mayor until he died a few days before Christmas in 1976.  "I went to school in Boston before I moved to Chicago.  New York and Boston are east coast, and Chicago is midwest. . .Chicago is real different from those two cities in terms of the politics," he said.  He asked did I think anyone had a chance in a mayoral election against Daley.  "It could be done, but they would have to have a lot of campaign money and a solid base of supporters in high places, even if they are a Democrat like Daley.  The Democractic Machine politics are still in place," I answered. 

Later, Carlos was attempting to do some interval training on the heavy bag.  "Ralphie can punch real fast when he does that, but I can't do it," he told Alan.  "I'm so tired of these young men talking about what they can't do," I said.  I was laughing while I said it.  Alan told Carlos he can, but he has to work his way up to it.  I was thinking the other day that I wish I had one of those interval timers at home.  Interval training is very good for building up stamina.  I have a half a mind to buy a regular standard timer like the one that's in the gym and store it at church for when I work out there.

Weekend of Fights

This past Friday night, I went down to the UIC Pavilion to watch a series of professional fights presented by 8 Count Productions.  Most were there to see hometown favorite Donovan "Da Bom" George take on Osumanu Adama in a super welterweight  match.  George's fight was televised live on Showtime's "ShowBox: The Next Generation".  It was a tough match.  Adama put tons of pressure on George, who appeared to not know how to approach his opponent early on.  No matter what shots George put out there, Adama kept advancing and backing George up.  Evenutally, George's firepower returned, and he took it to Adama, especially during the last round.  George won an unanimous decision.

Too bad a lot of people didn't stick around for the last fight of the evening.  It was an exercise in technical skill between Marcus "Too Much" Johnson and Derek Edwards.  Nothing flashy, just two guys measuring each other up and thinking about how and when they were going to deal out punches.

Another crowd pleasing fight was the fourth one.  Andrzej Fonfara from Poland went up against Roger Cantrell for the WBC Youth World Light Heavyweight Championship.  Fonfara lit up Cantrell with a lot of jabs to the body and the head.  After Fonfara knocked Cantrell against the ropes and down to the canvas one minute and one second into the fourth round, the referee stopped the contest.

Antonio Tarver joined Nick Charles and Steve Farhood at the commentator's table.  MMA star Darren Aronosky was also in attendance.

Last night was the Mayweather-Mosley fight.  I saw that at the Webster Place Theater.  After dealing with ticket takers who acted as if they didn't know the superfight was taking place, and bored looking concession stand staff, I settled into theater number seven to watch the spectacle.  There were a few of us in the audience who were pulling for Mosley.  A big cheer went up when he busted Mayweather in the face with a right.  "Money" teetered then got his balance back.  Unfortunately, Mosley would never get the chance to embarrass Mayweather again. 

The HBO commentators rightly said that Mosley looked like he was sleep walking.  Looking worn and breathing hard, "Sugar" plodded around the ring, and Mayweather did his usual play it safe defense routine.  Mosley's trainer, Naazim Richardson, sounded like he was going to stop the fight if Mosley didn't get some life into himself.  Roger Mayweather, over in the other corner, was cool as he called Mosley the MF word and encouraged his nephew to stay on course.  Mosley needed to knock Mayweather out, but like Richardson pointed out, Mosley kept looking for a perfect opening to do so.  It never came.

If it wasn't enough that some fans were disappointed -- and bored -- about another Mayweather victory, the champion once again declared that Pacquiao would never get a match unless bood tests were done.  I don't get this.  Mayweather never required that out of anyone before Pacquiao.  I suppose he had to demand that Mosley take the tests because of Mosley's admitted steroid use, and the fact that he had made a big deal of Pacquiao having to agree to testing. 

Before I got my tickets, I overheard a yuppy-like woman telling her two trendy friends after seeing a poster for the fight, "I don't care to see that."  I got a bit offended at her tone.  She was a stick who needed to eat a few steak sandwiches and some cake so that the wind wouldn't blow her away.  Probably couldn't fight her way out of a paper bag in a dark room.  Good thing that she got out of the way so the true fight fans could get through.

A Short Woman's Well Placed Shot

Joe grinned, "You had him up against the ropes!"  Alan and I sparred for two rounds.  I caught him a couple of times with a right, but I didn't realize how potent one of them was.  "You got me good that one time," Alan would say later on.    Alan usually leaves his left jaw open, and I have gotten him there a few times when I've sparred with him.  I guess I put in a real hard shot that time.  Alan and I ended up sparring because Earleatha decided not to do so.  "I'm taking a break," she said. 

Of course, he got in a good one, too, a jab that caught me in the mouth.  Mouthpieces are good things, you know.  "I just flicked it out there.  It wasn't hard," he said after it was all over with.  "Oh, yes it was," I laughed.  It slowed me down for a moment. 

Larry, a new guy, came in and sparred with Victor.  Alan stopped it when Larry got tired and was not returning Victor's relentless punches.  Victor had pinned Larry up against the ropes. 

Neither Carlos nor Jamil was in last night.  I remembered Carlos saying he had to work the late shift at his job this week  I'm not sure what happened with Jamil.  Demond, Patrick, Toya, Stacy, Cynthia. . . .all no shows.  Neville came in, and Alan didn't recognize him at first.  "Yes, he's signed up.  He just hasn't been in here for awhile," I told Alan. 

I'm going to see the Mayweather-Mosley fight later this week at a local movie theater.  "Aw, man, I have to be up at the military school with my son that day.  I'm going to have to find a bar nearby to watch it," Alan said.  It ought to be a good match, depending on all the trash talking that's been going on.  The best was when Mosley and Oscar de la Hoya were on George Lopez's talk show.  Mosley said he was going to knock Mayweather out.  Lopez gave the two men a pair of blue Everlast boxing shoes to deliver to Mayweather.  On the bottom soles of the shoes was the "Lopez Tonight" logo.  "When Mayweather is laid out, I can get some promotion for my show," Lopez grinned.

Besides being on HBO's "24/7" (where he made the outrageous claim of being a better pugalist than Ali or Sugar Ray Robinson), Mayweather has also been seen on "What Chili Wants", a reality show on VHI.  Mayweather has been friends with Chili, who is part of the girl group TLC, for years.  The show focuses on Chili trying to find love with the help of a matchmaker.  Mayweather acts like he likes her, and Chili is willing to see if their friendship can turn into a relationship.  In the episode I saw last night, Mayweather stood Chili up for a dinner date.  Not cool. 

Scrapbook of Scrapping

The crowd was light Wednesday night.  Earleatha, Patrick, Stacy, Toya, Eric and Demond were not in attendance. Cynthia didn't come in, but Matt did.  She sent along a holder with him to keep my mouthpiece in.  It's great because it allows air to circulate around it, unlike the case it originally came in. 

Carlos did his usual several rounds, including a couple with Alan.  Alan caught Carlos dead-on with a few overhand rights.  What really amazed him was when Carlos took a few hard body shots and didn't flinch.  "I expected him to go down, but it seemed they didn't affect him at all," Alan said after the bell rang. 

I found myself sparring a couple of rounds with Ralphie.  Before I put my gear on, Matt asked who I was going to spar with.  I didn't know at that moment.  Ralphie was in with Carlos, and Alan hadn't decided who would remain in the ring for me.  "Ralphie's very slick, and Carlos just keeps charging," I told Matt.  "I think you're slick.  I've seen you on the heavy bags.  You have some secret punches," Matt smiled.  He had been in the ring with Jeremy earlier.  The experience wasn't bad for him, but Matt had trouble with the idea of punching someone back.  "I'm a pacifist, and it's hard to get my mind around inflicting pain on someone else," he admitted.

Jumping rope more has been helping with my stamina.  When I sparred with Earleatha on Monday, I wasn't as tired as I usually am afterwards.  I didn't sputter out during the first round with Ralphie.  I was exhausted after the second round, so I need to jump rope more.  I've caught yet another cold today, but I think I'm going to move around in the church's gym anyway, if only for a short time.  I don't want to get out of the habit of exercising extra days -- again.

Alan brought in a envelope filled with pictures and clips from when he fought as a young man while attending college in Arizona.  Alan was basically built the same way he is now, but he had hair and a full mustache.  "You were good looking," I grinned.  Ralphie laughed and said, "Alan had that John Holmes thing going on," making a reference to the popular porn actor of the 1970's.  Back in the day, shirts and headgear were not requirements in the amateur ranks.  There were many pictures of Alan fighting bare-headed and bare chested.  He had a chance to go pro, but as he was still going to school at the time, his parents frowned on the idea.  Alan thought about resuming a run for the professional ranks when he returned to Chicago after college.  "I was too late.  I had a solid reputation built up in Arizona, but I would have had to start again from scratch here," he explained.

Sparring With Another Newbie

Jamil was in the ring with Ralphie last night.  Ralphie is quick, and a fast hook nearly caught Jamil.  It connected, but at the same moment, Jamil slipped and fell against the ropes.  If he had absorbed the full effect of the hook, Jamil might have been very hurt.  Victor got in a series of non-stop hits on Ralphie when he caught him against the ropes during their sparring session.  The sparring man of the evening was Carlos, who did five or six rounds with different guys who were on hand.  It appears that his stamina is back. 

I heard Earleatha, one of the new people, tell another newbie, Donald, "I might as well get it out of the way," in reference to sparring.  She asked me ahead of time if I was going to hit hard.  "When somebody hasn't sparred before, or they say they've never been in a fight in their life, that's my cue to go light," I answered.  That's not to say that she didn't get some stinging shots in.  The first one was in my left eye.  She backed up, her gloves up to her mouth.  "Ooh, I'm sorry," she said.  "It's fine," I said.  "Go ahead, you're supposed to hit back," Alan instructed her. Donald watched with interest from the sidelines.

During the second round, Earleatha got in some hits to my stomach, but mainly, she was head hunting.  I enouraged her to keep going.  By the time that round ended, she was dead tired.  "It's something else, especially when somone keeps coming at you," she said.  That's how I often get in trouble, when somone continually rushes me like a bull, like Meg did during our second Park District fight.  The trick is to not get overwhelmed, but keep putting out a lot of punches and for goodness sake, move.

"Are the Golden Gloves over?"  Pastor Roger asked me Monday morning.  "Yes, but the show fights are ongoing, and the Chicago Park District tournament season starts soon," I told him.  There are lulls between fights, but there's never a cessation period. 

This morning, I stopped at Starbucks to get a little breakfast.  One of the clerks commented on my boxing hat, the red one that Steve gave me about two years ago.  "Stacy, one of the the people that works here, started going to a boxing gym," she said.  "I know -- she goes to the same gym that I do," I smiled.  "Cool!  I like your hat," the clerk replied.  Stacy wasn't in the gym last night.  I hope she comes in tomorrow.

Oh My Aching Extremities

This morning, I stopped at Starbucks to get something to eat before running off to the rest of the day.  Stacy was behind the counter.  She did mention to us down at the gym that she worked at Starbucks.  I was surprised to see her at that particular location.  She said she wasn't at the gym the night before because she took a nap and didn't wake up in time.

Last night, Eric walks in with the black eye he got courtesy of Jamil.  "My wife jinxed me before I came here Monday.  She told me, 'Don't come back with a black eye', and that's what I did."  Eric moves very well on his feet, but Jamil is becoming more confident with throwing his punches.  

I only lasted one round with Carlos Wednesday night.  "You hit hard in the beginning, but then you slow down.  You have to take a step back from time to time and remember to breathe," he told me.  "You usually do two or three rounds," Alan pointed out to me, and Carlos agreed with him.  I was disappointed with myself for the loss of stamina.  Another light bulb went off this afternoon while I was shadow boxing in the church's gym.  I seldom, if ever, move my head while sparring.  I take too many punches which wears me down as well. 

Alan took a shot from Carlos' right hand while they sparred.  It rocked Alan, and he was unsteady on his feet.  "I recovered, but it was after those initial 30 seconds," Alan told me later. Demond also took a hit -- from Carlos, I believe -- that nearly stopped him.  He shook it off eventually and continued. 

My feet, ankles and knees hurt right now, but I needed that workout at church today.  I've been pushing myself to jump rope more.  I did six rounds of using the speed rope today.  I'm thinking I should do 15 minutes of jumping rope, even when I'm down at Loyola Park. 

I ran into Sam today.  He used to train under Barry.  He had been crossing my mind a lot lately.  I had heard awhile ago that Sam had been in some trouble with the police.  He has a job now, and he looked like he was doing okay.  It was very good to see him. 

Going Easy and Light

My new MP3 player made me late.  It was on sale at Kmart, and it has the capacity to hold 1000 songs.  I couldn't pass it up.  I was fooling around putting songs on it, and the computer was acting crazy, so I left the house later than usual.  When I got there, Jamil finally had my camera card to return to me.  "I'm sorry for keeping it for so long.  I kept forgetting it," he said.  It was no big deal. I still need to figure out why it'll tape videos, but not upload them to You Tube easily.

Since Stacy had a mouthpiece, Alan asked if she wanted to move around with me in the gym.  Stacy was hyped up for it, but I was a little worried.  I remember giving Maggie a TKO, and I was going light with her.  It was like Bam Bam hugging his dad Barney and accidentally bruising him.  I tagged Stacy in the middle and in the head with jabs, rights and hooks, but I was landing as soft as I could.  We did one round.

Eric and Jamil sparred, and the experience involved Jamil getting a low blow and Eric getting a black eye.  Matt was amazed.  "You should get in the ring," Eric told him, but Matt said he's not ready for that yet.  Stacy, still hyped from sparring, suggested that Cynthia should go in, too.  "Hell, no!  Not ready for that," she said.

I also moved around in the ring for a couple of rounds with Toya, who is taller than I.  Just like with Stacy, I went easy.  I threw in some uppercuts, but I made sure they didn't connect hard.  Alan kept instructing her to hit back, just like he did when Stacy and I were in the ring. 

Matt told me he was impressed with how I jumped rope.  I basically jump the same way I did when I was five years old.  I have learned to jump with my right leg only, but that's about as fancy as I get.  During the first season of the reality show, "The Contender", there was a scene where Sugar Ray Leonard was showing the younger boxers how he jumps rope.  Leonard is in his 50s, but he could still out jump everyone.  I would love to learn how to jump like him.

Weekend Wars

Friday night, Myra Ramirez faced Brittany Brown in an 108 pound female novice bout.  I was surprised at how tiny Ramirez was.  She had to look up to Brown.  However, that little woman threw some hard punches.  Brown kept making the mistake of being pushed against the ropes and in the corners.  Ramirez fired on her with a flurry of hooks to the head that left Brown dizzy.  Brown kept walking into punches, and not using her jab to work her way in.  Ramirez was a burst of energy that Brown couldn't stop.  The crowd gave Ramirez a standing ovation when she won.

As per tradition, the bell was rang ten times in honor of a fallen boxer.  The boxer honored was Francisco Rodriguez, who passed away from injuries sustained in the ring the past fall.  I have seen the bell rang for deceased boxers and others associated with the sport on TV many times.  It is something else to be there in person.  Fundraising efforts continue to go on for Rodriguez's family.

My buddy Paul faced a fellow teammate from Chicago Boxing where he trains.  His opponent was throwing punches all over the place.  Paul got cool on him and picked his spots to punch.  Paul won, and he was also awarded a trophy for being the best boxer at the Golden Gloves. 

Before Paul's fight, professional boxer Carl "Iron Fist" Davis presented a trophy to the winner of the previous bout.  Davis used to work at the agency where I was laid off from.  We didn't know each other well, but I remember having some brief conversations with him about boxing.

Tiffany Perez, the Olympic contender, did not disappoint in her match on Saturday night.  She moves and punches like a guy.  She's also a short, petite woman who packs a lot of power in her punches.  I shook her hand and congratulated her on her win afterwards.

Some guys sitting near me that night had some kind of betting scheme going on.  I overheard one guy explain it to the others, but I couldn't figure it out.  It is not uncommon for gambling to go on at the Gloves.  I was gambling myself, so to speak.  Spent twenty dollars on the 50/50 raffle.  Tina, one of the announcers, saw me with the tickets.  "You ready to win again?" she grinned.  I let my greed get the best of me, and I lost.  Oh well. . .it's back to buying scratch off Illinois Lottery tickets once in awhile.  The correct name of the professional boxer who helped me up to the ring when I won the raffle the other night is Angel "Toro" Rodriguez.  He's scheduled to fight Peter Manfredy Jr., of "Contender" fame.

Antonio, the MMA fighter, presented the trophy to the winner after the 2nd bout.  Johnny Lira, a former professional boxer who was once ranked number one in the world, also presented a trophy.  He happened to hear Jonny B. and I talking about the failed Mayweather-Pacquiao fight.  "Mayweather knows he could lose, that's why the fight didn't take place," Lira commented.  I recently read an article in The Ring magazine that basically said the same thing.

The best fight on Saturday night was a heavyweight match that was the last bout of the evening as well as of the tournament.  The two men were like Godzillas, throwing bombs and bashing each other.  I usually don't go for heavyweight bouts much because I think guys that big move too slow to make things exciting.  But that was an extremely good match.

Lucky Thursday Ticket

I went to the Golden Gloves last night to view the first set of final championship bouts.  Natalie, who has sparred at Loyola along with gym mate with Chloe, sang the National Anthem.  She's a trained opera singer, and she sounded fine. 

After changing my seat to distance myself from an annoying family group, I got down to paying attention to the matches.  Chloe fought, as did Ed Brown of Garfiled Park who beat our Ed Brown of Loyola Park during the preliminary bouts.  I was wondering how Brown pulled off his win.  He spent a whole lot of time waiting on his opponent, a guy named Johnson out of Chicago Boxing Club.  His fan club never stopped believin', however.  They yelled and screamed instructions to Brown the entire time.  Chloe went the distance in her fight, but ultimately lost on points.  She introduced me to her friends as her sparring buddy. 

Earlier in the day, I worked out for an hour and a half in the gym of Rogers Park Baptist Church.  The choir has a good boom box, and I kicked the volume up to ten to play my CDs.  Of course, I would have been scrambling to turn down the sound if Pastor Roger came in.  I'm sure the man would like to have worked upstairs in his office without hearing RUN DMC downstairs bellowing, "I'm the King of Rock/There is none higher/Sucker MCs should call me sire/I won't stop rockin' until I retire!"  It was a good workout.  I went upstairs to take a shower after I was done, and I had a strange thought:  "This is the first time I've been naked in church."  I remember reading the novel Fear of Flying by Erica Jong when I was in junior high or high school. . .I can't remember which.  If you are familiar with that novel, you know it's probably something that people under 18 years of age should not read.  There was a scene between the heroine and one of her boyfriends that had them alone in an empty synagogue. . . .you can probably guess what was up.  I've heard of folks engaging in similar activity in empty churches in real life.  Some people have no shame or fear of God apparently.

Throughout the boxing tournament, a 50/50 raffle has been running.  The objective is to raise money for youth boxing programs.  I played a couple of other times, but I wasn't successful until last night.  It was a little over $100, a nice piece of pocket money.  As I walked up the ring steps to claim my prize, a professional boxer named Angel was coming out from the ring.  He had just presented a trophy to the boxer who won the previous match.  I was a little unsteady, as I always seem to be on those type of steps, and he graciously helped me up.

Diego came over to shake my hand.  That's one kid that has great manners.  I guess he saw me sitting across the way.  He was there with his parents. 

I picked up the finals program, and Paul's fight was listed as a featured fight for tonight.  Tiffany, the 4"11 boxer who is going to try to get into the 2012 Summer Olympics, got a full page highlighting her accomplishments.  There are a couple of photos of Carlos in the program, as well.  One shows him watching as the boxer he fought against in the prelims is announced the winner.  The other shows him and Alan in the corner during one of the rest periods in that same fight.

"I Like This!"

"I like this!" Stacy, another new person in the gym, kept commenting this past Wednesday night.  It seemed like she was meant to come into the gym.  Friends of hers kept buying her boxing equipment long before she considered taking up the sport.  Stacy figured she might as well look into it.

The gym was busy again that evening.  John, the attorney, came in to work out.  I thought I heard him asking Alan about sparring.  Alan pointed to the attenance roster and said, "I need your name on this list first."  I told John that I was planning to return to school to be a paralegal.  "It's a tough market in law right now," he told me.  "Some attorneys are hiring themselves out at $25.00 an hour to do paralegal work for other attorneys."

I spent an early part of the evening showing technique to both Cynthia and Stacy.  When Alan asked if I was going to spar, I turned it down because I felt I hadn't warmed up enough.  Doing a warm-up before any workout is important, but even more so the older one becomes.  Some of the damage I experience now -- arthritis in particular -- might be because I wasn't diligent about doing a warm-up. 

"You Put Your Face In Front Of The Fist!"

A good sized crowd was in the gym Monday night.  Chloe and Joe showed up, but she and I didn't spar.  I'm assuming that Joe planned that she have a light workout, like most coaches will plan when their fighter has a bout coming up.  It's not always a good idea to spar very close to a match because of the possibility of the fighter becoming injured.  I promised Chloe that would go see her compete at the Gloves this week.

Another new woman named Toya came in.  She had a lot of questions about the gym and the sport in general.  "I think I'm going to like this!" she said.  I went over left jabs, rights, and movement with her and Cynthia.  For a long time, we were just talking and laughing.  Alan came over and grinned, "You all have been standing around for 20 minutes.  Hillari, you've got to make them work!"  I also showed them how to use the bags in the gym.

Alan and I sparred after Carlos and Jamil.   I accidentally stepped on his foot.  That's a habit I have most times that I spar.  It's a footwork error I need to correct.  Then Alan stepped on mine, and I lost my balance and fell to the canvas.  "Two can play that game," Alan grinned through his mouthpiece.  "It was an accident!" I protested.  He kept motioning for me to aim for his head, which I did reach a few times.  He caught me in the mouth once with a punch.  It was a wake up to me to keep my mouth closed.

I felt a lump inside my lower lip later on.  Upon closer inspection in the bathroom mirror at home, I saw a red bruise.  "Humph. . .he got me good there," I muttered to myself.  When I pointed it out to Pastor Roger at work the following morning, he pointed out, "Well, you put your face in front of his fist!"  "This afternoon, I'm going to work out in the gym," I told him, referring to the good-sized gym that is in the church.  "That's fine.  I don't know why more people don't take advantage of it," Pastor said.  One reason is that there is no gym equipment available.  Oh, there is a basketball hoop, but not everyone plays ball.  It would be nice if there were extra funds to put some used equipment in there, but the Haitian church uses that room for their Sunday services.  I suppose we could find a place to move and lock up the equipment somewhere in church.  But if it's too unwieldy to keep moving back and forth, the other congregation may not appreciate the equipment being in the way, as well as being a distraction on Sunday mornings.

Shortly after the Pastor left for a lunch meeting, I pulled out one of the church's boom boxes, threw on some James Brown and the JB's CDs, and worked out for a little over an hour.  It was slow going in the beginning.  My mind wasn't really focused, and I could feel my blood sugar dropping.  I had a bowl of sugar free oatmeal earlier, but that had long burned away.  After several rounds (I had brought my individual timer with me), I put more energy into the workout and actually had a good one.  Pastor returned near the end of the workout. I was waiting for him to admonish me about blasting the JB's on the boom box.  Pastor is not a fan of worldly music, not since the 1980's anyway.  But I like my workout music to be mostly old school R&B and pumping.  I remember when Anna, a friend of mine, and myself were roller skating in the church gym before a new floor was put in.  I had the JB's on the boom box that day, too, but she decided to switch the music to a steady stream of gospel choir songs.  "You can't skate off of that," I told her.  I like a lot of Christian music, don't get me wrong.  But I do like other genres of music, and it's not my preference for workout music.  

There are showers upstairs in church on the third floor.  I didn't bring soap, a towel, or a change of clothes.  I'm so used to going straight home from Loyola Park and taking a shower (or laying down, depending on how tired and/or hurt I am after the gym).   I want to make a regular habit of working out in the church gym, so next time, I'll be better prepared. 

Most Show Up

Last night, most of the ones on the attendance list came to the gym.  Of the few who didn't appear, I noticed most were women.  I sighed to myself. 

Demond (got his name right from Monday night) came in again, along with Eric and 6 foot 4 Patrick.  I didn't catch the names of most of the other new people, except for Diana.  Alan had gone over some basics with the new people and then sent them out to practice in the mirrors and on the bags.  "I don't want to spar," Diana told me.  She does want to build up strength in her arms.  I told her that boxing would definately help with that. 

Carlos and I sparred, and I tried to get some uppercuts in.  I was on the inside, but he covers up very well.  I couldn't break through his defense.  I did get some good left and right hooks in on his head, however.  I hadn't been able to do that on anyone in a long, long time.  My straight lefts and rights went nowhere.  Carlos was very adapt at slipping those.  I had to settle for ocassionally getting hooks in to his body. 

I commented that Carlos' Energizer Bunny stamina must be coming back, after he went several rounds with Ralphie.  They both worked in some good head shots on each other. 

This morning I went into to work to take care of stuff for Easter this Sunday.  It ocurred to me that it's April Fools Day, and I hadn't pulled any jokes of that type in years.  While walking to church, I racked my brain for a joke to pull on Pastor Roger.  I was going to plaster my face with bandages and pretend that I had been badly banged up in the gym.  Then I got a better idea.

I heard him coming in the door downstairs.  Quickly, I hurried into his office and laid face down on the floor, giving the impression that I had collapsed.  He walked into his office, and called my name several times.  I didn't move.  While in high school, I was often complimented on my ability to play as if I had fainted or I had died in theater classes.  When it sounded as if Pastor had grabbed his phone to call the ambulance (and he had also called for Olga, who was in church at the time, to rush into his office), and sat up and grinned "April Fools!"  "That wasn't nice," Pastor said, but he was grinning.