Boxing. The Sweet Science.

This entry is about fitness; Weightlifting, Boxing, Core weakness and saying goodbye to Leg mass. 

Weightlifting, 1st September 2012 to 18th January 2023; 

I discovered the gym like so many before me after a brutal and emotionally damaging relationship finally ended. I was 25, 80kg, probably in the 20-30% range of body fat. Walking into the gym the first time since my athletic days, Definition Fitness Center, was a struggle. Was not my thing anymore. But I was unhealthy as I could possibly be so forced myself into it. A few months in and the trainer introduced me to the Free Weight section. What followed was 10 years of building my body stronger slowly but consistently. Working out was the new drug. I didn’t need anything or anyone anymore, I had the gym. It was there for me, and I was happy. But I also fell into the traps most young people do of seeing larger-than life marketed body builders painted on walls, watching YouTube videos of steroid junkies claiming the famous “eat big to get big” way and so on. Did not work for me. My body type was designed for running, not eating stupid amounts of food and laying on muscle mass. It was a long and pointless struggle, and by the time I finally realised how much time, money on food and supplements, planning and prioritising the gym had been wasted it was way too late. Suddenly I was 35, the pandemic was halfway through, the gyms had been closed for a year and I watched all the gains diminish so much quicker than I would have guessed they could. Attempts were made to work out at work or home, but the motivation was not there. Suddenly as it came, the pandemic was over, gyms were open, and I was back into it. But the feeling, the urge, the desire, lesss than a quarter of what it once was. No more deadlifting over 220kg, no more squatting over 160kg, no more benching over 140kg. No more testing my strength with 60kg bicep curls and 80kg of plates to dip with. I was now 36 and realised very quickly 40 was not far away. My mind set was no longer there. My wife would ask me if I was going to the gym today and I would say I’ll go tomorrow. I’d go, then take a day or 2 off, so on and so forth. Eventually the gym just became something to do, a chore? Not stimulating my mind like it once was. If I had the choice back then, I would have welcomed it completely by walking into a boxing gym instead of a fitness center. 

Boxing, March 2023 onwards; 

Part 1: Discovery 

End of January, Esra and I make a last-minute trip to her country Turkey. Her hometown, Eskisehir, is one of my most favourite places on earth. Time is slow there. The days even in winter feel twice as long as Melbourne. We are there for her sister’s twins, Oyku and Mert, 4th birthday. I usually go to the gym in Eskisehir, I am a local at Flex Gym Club, where the owner lets me in for free because I speak English and he loves I am from Australia all the way over here to work out in his gym, no one else’s. Turks are a beautiful and generous people to outsiders, most generally happy to drop what they are doing to help when they sense you are not from there. Hear that Australia? Help is a 4 later word most of us Aussies do not know these days. Anyway, I digress. This visit I do not bring gym clothes. I drive and walk passed my gym a dozen times, I look in longingly but do not enter. Sad. I came here around 97kgs, the weight loss mostly due to quitting Alcohol back in December 2022. Amazing how much weight can be lost when giving up Alcohol and excess calories. From December 18th to January 18th I have lost over 10kg. I am happy about that, but now I am in food country. Turks eat like no other culture I have come across. A 6 people table in an Australian café is a 2 seater in Turkey. The space is needed for the amount plates that come to you within seconds of sitting down. Not 10’s of minutes, mere seconds. Get in, eat, get out. Don’t ask how its made or what oil is used. Shut up, eat, leave. Make sure you undo the top button of your pants in the process and wear loose clothing. In the 3 weeks here, I put on 10kg. Fuck. Worth it. Thanks Anne (“mother” in Turkish) for feeding me 300 times a day because Esra and I are “too skinny and wasting away”. The belt on the plane home is a little tighter than I remember. Qatar has fantastic choices of movies and I see some movies I had always wanted to watch but never bothered due to knowing the premises was something I have never been interested in; Rocky Balboa, Creed and Creed 2. Little did I know what these choices of movies was about to change in my life. 

Part 2: Southpaw Lou 

The movies are ok. Stories could be better. Fight scenes, especially the last match of Balboa, 10/10. I suddenly feel very aware of my doughy physique and the tightness of the plane belt feels even more uncomfortable. These solid blocks of steel on the screen punching so violently into each other stir something in my soul. They are ripped, not solid muscles masses, just ripped enough normal sized clothes probably still fit correctly. A fire is lit. I get my phone out and start researching boxing for beginners and listing things I need to procure. This did not feel like a mere panic buy or in-the-moment impulse, no, something just happened that awoke the fitness bear in me that I thought had long since perished. I feel nervous but excited. My fingers are tapping the food tray. Why won’t this plane hurry the fuck up and get to Melbourne quicker. Off the plane and it's Wednesday. Good, I have a day for jetlag, then back to work, then the weekend to procure my boxing needs. In my bag I now have a super big towel and 16oz Sting gloves. Monday comes and I am on my way to my gym, but for a completely different reason this time. I turn right to the boxing and fighting area, instead of left to the free weights and machines. My feet seem confused. Where are you going, the bench is over this way. I enter the area nervous. What do I do next. Don’t forget to breathe. Warm up. What is warming up? Oh, I am about burn 500 calories in less than 5 minutes, that’s why I need to warm up. Gotcha. Half an hour later I am soaked, tired, more tired than I remember ever being in the free weight section. I am on the ground wondering if this is what dying feels like. I get up, keen for tomorrow. I find jabbing with my right and power punching with my left stronger. A few weeks go by, and I notice my knuckles aching. I have gone too hard too quick. Research begins again. Tony Jefferies, who are you, oh an ex-Pro and Olympian, you will do. I sit and watch hours and hours of his content on YouTube. I procure wrist wraps and learn how to wrap my hands BEFORE putting gloves on. Who would have known. I should have, I saw them do it in the movies… 1-2-1-2-hook. 1-2-upper. 1-2-1-1-2-hook-2. Remember to breathe out every punch. I work my way from 4 sets of 1 minute to 5 sets of 2minutes to 10 sets of 2 minutes to 15 sets of 2 minutes then onto 5 sets of 3 minutes. Death. 3 minutes is so much longer than 2. I work up 10 sets of 3 minutes. 1-minute breaks between rounds. 45-minute heavy bag sessions plus 5 minutes warm up before, 5 minutes cool down after. I have found a groove. I remember looking over at the weights every now and then, do they miss me? I miss them. I buy some more boxing movies, the complete Rocky series, Ali, Southpaw, Cinderella Man etc. They work out too, so my research continues. I am turning my body into a weapon. My Knuckles are hardening, the skin painless. I have dropped under 100kg again within a month. I set myself a goal of getting under 90 before the year finishes. 1-2-1-2, 1-1-1-2-right hook-left straight-right upper to kidney-right upper to face, 1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2, jab for 30 seconds, power punch 30 seconds. I am unstoppable. I am now in the fight section of the gym every night after work. I recognise others and begin to make friends with people, learning and perfecting techniques. I am often asked how long I have doing this for, I get surprised looks when I say only since March. This is the best I have felt since my athletic days. I feel like I am 16 again winning race after race. I take so much deep and hidden emotions out on these bags I eventually break one of its hanger with a left upper cut. Whoops. I promise the gym owner I’ll take it to work and re-weld it together. This has changed me. Before long it is November, and Esra and I decide to take a trip to Adelaide for a 4-day weekend. The bags can have the opportunity to rest. I will back soon. 

To summerise my first 8 months of boxing; I completely understand now why people love this. Why as humans we love violence. Sweet sweet violence. There is rhythm and groove to be found, like a drummer or a ballet dancer or a painter. I love this and have not looked back since. I miss the weights, but this is different. This is stronger. Everyone in the group enjoys it together. Laughing, smiling, teaching, learning, encouraging. Why couldn’t I have found this in 2012. 

Southpaw Lou is here to stay. 

Weakness 

With my newfound journey into the boxing world, it has brought around some draw backs. I have discovered my lack of constantly skipping core and abs/obliques in favour of biceps have given me a very sluggish and weak core. I now incorporate 3 days a week of hanging leg raises, Roman Twists and standard crunches. But it has been a long road. My first crunch set I got to 9. My first hanging leg raise I got to 4 and my first Roman Twist I just made it to the bin the throw up. Now after constant and strict incorporation of it into my boxing workouts, I can hit 100 crunches in a row, 30 hanging leg raises and 200 roman twists. This block of steel is unstoppable. Now we need to talk about my ever-shrinking quads, hamstrings and calves. Yuck. While definition is superb, they are no longer powerfully built like when weightlifting. I add in leg days again now to my routine. Not chasing numbers, but more lunges, explosive jumps with kettles bells, the occasional squat and leg curl. They will catch their wee-little selves up again. 

The beginning of my Boxing part of life. The thing that I wish I had found so much sooner but feel gracious enough to have found it all. I have never liked violence, but learning how good it can feel when laying into a heavy bag for an hour a day is sensational. 

 “ I have to believe that when things are bad, I can change them” 

~ Jim Braddock