Know Your Enemy

Thursday 2nd April 2009

Last night I found out who my opponent is.

Sadly I'm having to be switched teams as well which now means I have to get up on Saturday mornings at stupid o'clock to train - rubbish! Either way I now have a face to my opponent, my nemesis, my archenemy, a rag to my raging bull and, of course, the brand of chocolate bourbon biscuit I must crush. He seems like quite a pleasant bloke but I can't really say I've spoken to him much, even while on the same team, blue team was'nt quite 'gelling'  so I'm sort of ok with the move - apart from the stupid Saturday thing.

So I have two more sessions with Blue then I switch to Red. I'm now slightly distracted by watching my now 'enemy' and trying to figure out his strengths and weaknesses. Being not quite highly trained enough in the martial arts to ascertain at a glance a weak left knee from a childhood accident involving play-doh and a protractor, just from the way he stands, means it's pretty pointless. Let's face it there's a simple equation: 

He has Arms + he can Punch me = he is a Threat.

There it is then - he's a bit taller than me and has a slightly longer reach and has boxed more than me...  All I can do is train like a mentalist and prepare myself solidly to face him. Yes, it is weird to fight someone when you know he's a pleasant bloke - I would probably enjoy it more if I'd taken a natural dislike to him. Ultimately though, I have to focus on destroying him, physically and mentally, as brutally and as efficiently as possible... then I'll worry about the him being nice bloke bit - ho hum.

It's my Birthday... why am I sober?

29th March 2009

One of the things I promised myself when getting involved with this whole White Collar malarky was cutting out the beer. Not totally of course (I'm not insane) but not doing what most people do in Dubai which is replace your blood with alcohol for most of the weekend!

As yet I have, in 2 and a half weeks, only had the equivalent of about 3 pints, after food and purely as a social thing. I'm actually quite enjoying being sober - especially as I watch the not so sober around me! You begin to realize that actually when your drunk your a bit of a dickhead and girls that you may have thought attractive while drunk are actually much less attractive, especially with their eyes rolling around in their heads and unable speak properly.

Also, consequently, the flat next door is pissing me off with it's weekly parties that seem to just involve people cheering, constantly, for no apparent reason. A guest asks "Oi mate - where's the toilet - I need a piss?". The host is overjoyed at this major event in his life "Oi everybody - Gav's gonna go for a PISS - YAAAAAAY! - ave one for me son - YEEEAH" The whole party takes up a chorus of celebration of the mighty bladder until the next fascinating celebratory event... "Hey - Sandrine just vommed off the balcony, fell off and landed in it - WAAAAAY"

Multiply this by fifty until 3am and these are my neighbours... dickheads.

Then I realise - maybe I'm going off alchohol, whinging about my neighbours and training frantically to become something I've always wanted to be because I'm having a mid-life crisis. is this why people do white collar? I'm 34 today and what am I doing? I'm up at 6am punching bags in some sort of 'do it before you can't' mindset. I contemplate this as I finsh my 25th 'crunch' and then think 'no'. This is'nt a crisis - this is something I've always wanted to do and it's just taken me this long to get to it... life's a bit mental you know and other stuff gets in the way sometimes!

So yeah, I'm 34 today, I'm training at 6am on my birthday and weirdly loving it. I'm not going out tonight to celebrate (I'm 34 - what's to bloody celebrate?) so for the first time in years I won't have a crappy hangover tomorrow and I might well adopt this whole new attitude for beer for a long time after the white collar fight night.

Plus, with regards to my 'oikish' neighbours I've decided I'm not getting old... I've just always had a low tolerance threshold for cheering dickheads.

Sparring... with girls!

26th March 2009

This morning I nearly got uppercut by a Dutch lady (who got a bit excitable hitting me!) and took a 'straight right' to my head. All this was before breakfast.

Sparring is weird - I have to say that it was difficult for a number of reasons. Firstly not being a naturally violent person the concept of just hitting someone because 'they are there' takes a bit of getting used to. Usually an aggressive situation involves a wronged party getting a bit tetchy and then desiring to damage the other. Fairly straightforward? Boxing is different so I suppose I'm begining to understand why boxer's go through the whole 'Ya mama's sooo fat' routine in the build up to a fight - you probably have to cultivate an emotional reason for wanting to put your fist inside your opponents head?

Anyway, psychological analysis aside, sparring is double strange when you're fighting a girl! I'm naturally programmed not to go around punching the 'fairer' sex (I use 'fairer' broadly - having met some damn scary women) so hitting Mika was a bit difficult, as well as the fact I was a bit crap too. Either way one of us had no such qualms so I just blocked (oops - I nearly wrote 'like a girl'!) and adopted the punchbag stance. The following short sparring session involved Gill doing much the same to me and I learn't that I'm a little bit too hesitant. Again this, on reflection, could be a combination of inexperience and a lack of desire to hurt strangers... yes, this issue has to be rapidly solved if I am to progress.

So, after some contemplation I have decided on setting myself some personal rules when it comes to sparring and finally the actual fight.

1) When sparring pretend that the other person is not a person at all but something to be destroyed as calmly and efficiently as possible - like a chocolate bourbon biscuit - you can take big bites, little nibbles, bite it in half and scrape the chocolate off with you teeth, whatever! Ultimately it is consumed - this is how I shall treat my opponents.

2) I have ammended my personal rules regarding hitting girls. A girl wearing boxing gloves and trying to punch me in the face is now officially 'fair game' - after all it's the age of sexual equality and I assume I'd only be causing insult by treating her any differently based purely on out-moded gender bias - I might not get as hurt as much as well!

3) To finally prepare for the actual fight night I am to embark on a journey of self discovery. Many people look for their spiritual self or a greater understanding of their purpose in life. For myself I intend on discovering and tapping into my inner sociopath until, on the night of the white collar boxing event, for three, two minute rounds, I will totally, with every muscle, sinew and drop of vitriol I have fully crush that bloody bourbon biscuit!

18th March 2009

Hmmm...

Only once sat in the taxi did what I had just signed myself into really and truly begin to sink in. Returning from dropping the enrollment forms to Zack (the White Collar Boxing trainer) over a brief chat, between his giving instruction to his evening class’s punishing warm up, I had just made the step from 'I might be' to the beginning of 'I am doing it'.

'White Collar' boxing as a concept started in New York during the mid 90’s and quickly caught on globally with clubs everywhere having their own variants. Now I am participating in the fourth such event held in Dubai. The fact that I am going to be training for 2 hours a day from 6am, 3 days a week for 2 months is daunting. Add to this that I have to then enter a ring and try my best to beat someone senseless within 3, 2 minute rounds at the end of it. Oh, and all in front of a baying crowd and, more scarily, my friends, and, well, frankly I’m laying the brick foundations of a 7 bed villa!

This is going to be a serious shock to the system as Dubai has a habit of radically increasing your BMI, or in layman’s terms, turning you into a right porker as soon as you step off the plane(My finger of blame points at spicy potato sandwiches and tubs of hummous!). As I already know, Zack’s training sessions are seriously traumatic, having attended a few previously to make sure that I could deal with them. Feeling like dying in the last twenty minutes but not actually doing so convinced me…ish! The cardiovascular focused, highly intensive, circuit training can easily re-introduce you to your last meal. And that’s before you’ve even put your gloves on.

So Saturday midday is the only time that all the participants will be together before split into our two training teams at the induction meeting. It will be a bit strange walking into a room knowing that one of those people, who may actually be a nice bloke, I have to focus for 8 weeks on preparing myself, physically and mentally, to punch as much as I can and as hard as I can, in the face…

At least it’s all for charity.

21st March 2009
Midday at the Colossium Mai Thai Gym in Karama and a number of the other participants are there already as I enter what is to be my second home for the next 8 weeks. Looking around I can’t help it, you start sizing the other fighters up wondering who you are most likely to be fighting. Not everybody is there as a number of people are on holiday but of the people present there’s maybe one person who’s about the same build, and height as me but there‘s really no way to tell.

The WCB organiser John introduces himself to everyone and takes us through the structure of the next 8 weeks. We train, we’re given supplements and checked over by nutritionists, towards the fight we’re prepared psychologically as well as physically. We’re basically told that we are entering a rollercoaster ride of emotions, blood, sweat and physical pain. Previous years have apparently had soap operatic inter-team conflicts on par with Christmas special of Eastenders, rumour milling, bitching and in-fighting. As I previously worked on a woman’s weekly publication before moving to blubanana.com, my WCB sponsor, this element of the whole experience is something I’m capable of tactfully ignoring. As John states finally ‘be selfish’ it’s only you on your own in the ring with your opponent so let nothing interfere with your preparations… fair enough - I’m an only child so ‘be selfish’ is a breeze!

Again, looking around it is sort of weird as to how to classify everybody? Are we ‘participants’ or ‘competitors’? Theoretically there are no losers as the 3 rounds we finally square off in are not judged, nobody is officially declared a winner. Ultimately though there is no point doing this unless you intend to be better than whoever you’re matched with… the eight hundred and fifty people watching you exchange blows will all know who ‘won’ and who ‘lost’.

24th March 2009
First training session and there’s only 2 of us there! Bit disturbing really but it does mean almost personal tuition. I have to admit I’ve tried to prepare myself as best as I can for this in my own time but I do find it incredibly hard going. Zack will keep pushing you until you buckle, and then push you some more! As there’s only two of us it feels a bit odd as one of the main points raised in the meeting was developing a strong team morale. Seems a bit difficult if you’ve only got a team of 2 out of 8 present.

Tuesday morning is a bit better… there are 4 of us. The training is tiring but I’m a bit annoyed as I nearly overslept. Not by much but it made the race down Sheik Zayed potentially expensive. We go through various routines focused on building our endurance and anaerobic ability. This is something important as throwing punches is not only bloody knackering but your breathing and oxygen usage is affected by the exertion. Anaerobic capacity means working without oxygen or how long your muscles work without a steady supply. You breath while trying to pummel the dude in front of you but expend the energy in your muscles faster than your body refuels it. In boxing the end of the round means breath deep and recharge. The amount you can deal out before fatigue relies on developing this capacity in you muscle. Only goes to show… you do learn a new thing every day!

So, Thursday is to be our weekly sparring day. This will be a bit weird as everyone seems quite pleasant, well the other 3 that I’ve met. Maybe the first time I get to meet the whole team will be when I’m trying my best to avoid being hit by them. Stil when I was 11 I met one of my best friends doing just that though so it’s a great way to meet people.

Me “Hello, my names Alex” jab, jab,smack!
Them “Hello, my names ****, what do you do?” thump!
Me “Oh, I” jabs “design stuff for bluebanana.com - what do you do? Ducks!
Them “Well I currently teach" 'uppercut' "kindergarten" jab, jab, straight right - SMACK!
Me "Mmmphf" clutches nose "thats nice" bleeds...