March 23, 2008 * Final Lesson

“Eighty percent of success is showing up.”
- Woody Allen

When I think of Sunday mornings, eggs, hash browns and coffee (18% cream and two spoons of sugar) come to mind. If it’s too cold outside, or a winter storm pulverized the city the night before, all day, guiltless web surfing will suffice. Since January 13, 2008, I’ve had to battle these temptations, these habits of greasy joy. Nothing that occurred in the gym was as formidable a foe as my old habits. So I close this blog with a few life lessons gleaned from 3 months of battling, well, myself:

• Join a class to break a habit (or learn a new one). The public pressure alone will get you moving.
• Make your commitment public i.e. a blog.
• Use every resource at your disposal to increase motivation and interest i.e. blogs, bookstores, on-line videos
• Incorporate the lesson/instructions into your weekly grind.
• Sign up for another class BEFORE your current class ends.

On that note, I look forward to seeing my boxing pals on April 6, 2008… Boxing Level 2.

March 16, 2008 * 9th Lesson

“I’d never hit a woman, but I’d shake the $!*# outta one”
- Chris Rock

I hit a woman today. And then I apologized. But in boxing, saying “sorry” isn’t considered chivalrous or good manners. And so, with each apology (there were many), my sparring partner pleaded with me to:

a) hit harder;
b) stop apologizing.

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to slug a woman in the jaw. My next sparring partner was our boxing instructor – Jonathan Bochner. But I couldn’t hit him either. Not for niceties, but rather for fear of what the consequence might be. And again, I was reprimanded for being too gentle.

Perhaps I should register for seniors Tai Chi.

March 09, 2008 * 8th Lesson

And then came the medicine balls. Back and forth they flew the air. Our instructor conjoling us to launch ‘em at our partner’s chin, replicating jabs and “straight rights“. You do this for 10-15 minutes and your arms start to feel like cement cylinder blocks. Why oh why were we being put through this medieval volley-ball game?

And then came the punching bags. With each combination, I hit the bag with a force I could only envy a few days ago. My arms felt light, so the jabs were released with zest and snap. My straight-right turned the heavy-bag into a wild pinata. And so, the healing power of the medicine ball touched on an old self-help cliche: To grow, you must push yourself beyond your comfort zone(s).

Which reminds me, I need to sign up for Boxing Level II.

March 02, 2008 * 7th Lesson

After boxing, the wife and I jumped into our automobile and headed for St. Jacobs. We saw road apples and Old Order Mennonites zipping around on their buggies. Unfortunately, the closest we came to speaking with an “Old Order” Mennonite was a salesperson in a Levi’s outlet. I guess you can say she “fell off the derech”.

As for boxing… let’s just say my waist can’t do what my instructor commands it to do. I’m going to apply some WD-40 to improve the torque.

February 24, 2008 * 6th Lesson

Poverty… vulnerability… physical discomfort… embarrassment… loneliness… panic… boredom… insanity…

So what keeps you up at night? According to Robert Gerzon, author of Finding Serenity in the Age of Anxiety, panic attacks are the result of too many years of avoiding things that scare you. The end result is a life made up of habits and rituals designed to protect you from yourself.

I’m not too proud to admit that I’ve suffered many of the aforementioned soul-sucking bogeymen. And when you’re fighting this fight, you need allies. Barring a talented therapist, I’ve found Barbara Sher’s material, particularly Wishcraft, to be the most comprehensive, realistic and effective system for discovering passions, facing fears and plotting paths toward goal fulfilment.

So Barbara, this post is dedicated to you. Thanks for being in my corner.

February 17, 2008 * 9th Lesson

Guest blog entry by Dana Plato

“Chomedyboy” has written, so far, about how learning to box at 39 is a liberating struggle for a former bully’s target. As Joe Jackson used to sing, “It’s Different For Girls.” Girls don’t bully in the same way (or at least, they didn’t when was a kid). Just watch the movie Mean Girls and you’ll have a sense of the psychological warfare that can go on. Growing up as a Jew, and a somewhat geeky girl, I managed to avoid being bullied in any serious fashion by using humour to deflect — and this is has its own “tough-guy” kind of shell. In life, however, I prefer to be neither on the offense nor the defense — people should really just talk. (That’s not to say I don’t find boxing to be an absolutely beautiful sport). In terms of true violence or bullying, physical or emotional, I don’t see the point.

But others sure do. Even as an adult, the “Mean Girls,” (and guys) are out there. The interesting thing about boxing is that it’s helped me view something positive about the act of the fight itself. I find myself, in life, “getting a punch,” and “giving a punch,” — rather than my tried and true strategies of diversion. Humour goes a long way, to be sure, but sometimes you really have to throw a straight right, even if it’s a metaphorical one.

February 10, 2008 * 4th Lesson

It appears to come naturally to Monica (the woman in the photo). It being the suggestion by Survivor to embody “the eye of the tiger” and “rise up to the challenge of our rival”. You’d think a woman, being at least half a foot shorter than I and, well, a woman, would be intimated by my hulking frame (ahem) and gender. Yet she threw the harder punches, and was able to contain her giggles.

Giggles… at funerals. Giggles… at a serious lecture. These damn things always appear at the most inopportune moments. In boxing, you’re instructed to look your opponent in the eye. You want to look at his glove, his shoes, your shoes, anything but his (or her, as the case may be) eyes. Why? Because it’s difficult to be both nice and mean at the same time. We’d rather believe, and would like others to as well, that we’re polite and peace-loving folk. And yet, here we are face to face with a primal part of ourselves that is a tad intrigued by the violence of it all.

My instructor pushes me to “face the music” and allow Monica to connect. I obey, and then…”THUD”, my defending hand and chin absorb the force of her blow. This seems to wake me up. For a moment or two, my giggles are cured.

Thanks to Monica for agreeing to be part of this entry, and to Dana for the photos.