Faded Boxers

So after almost a year of sitting on my butt and doing an exorbitant amount of getting fat, I finally decided to go back to boxing. I used to go regularly, but I had to stop just before the wedding because my days back then were filled with me avoiding doing wedding preparations.

I vowed then that right after the honeymoon, after we’ve figured out our daily routine, I’d go back to boxing. Unfortunately, just like my promise to stop my crimefighting activities, or to get started on my dancing career, this promise was made to sit on the shelf while a masked, flamenco-dancing vigilante roamed the streets ensuring a better tomorrow for all of us.

You’re welcome by the way.

Anyway, so I’m now back to boxing semi-regularly. And as could be expected, it’s twice as hard and half as rewarding as when I started boxing. For one thing, you remember the things you can do at the peak of your training while your body can’t. You push yourself to hit as hard and as fast as you could before, but since your body is just not up to the task, you tire all the more easily.

Which is basically what happened to me earlier this afternoon. It was my second boxing session in a long time and I had assumed (wrongly I would soon learn) that I was already back to being a lean mean boxing machine.

Things started to go wrong in the middle of the second round. I started to notice that my vision was a little more blurred than normal. Then I realized how horribly inept my nose was at taking in air. I must have my nose checked, I remember thinking. Maybe I dropped a nostril on the way to the gym. I wasn’t allowed to proceed with my self diagnosis because at that same instant, the bones in my arms and legs decided to turn into rubber.

Pau, I think you’re gonna pass out, my body screamed at me. Nonsense, I answered. I’m just a little rusty. Maybe there’s a piece of kryptonite nearb—. Rather than finishing the thought, I decided to sit down in the corner instead.

In between gasps, I told my trainer that I was on the verge of passing out. For all his reaction, I took it that he understood “passing out” to mean “I’m just gonna scratch my foot, but after I do so, I’ll be ready to go another 10 rounds with you without water! Or Air!”

He eventually got the idea when I started to turn a ghastly shade of DEAD. Or at least dying. Thankfully, he conceded and I was able to rest for a couple of rounds. I seriously thought I was going to pass out.

I began to think about how I’m supposed to get back home. I didn’t bring a car because I thought walking all the way to the gym would provide me with the warm up I needed. Walking back home felt like a task which was just beyond my reach. Can I ask my trainer to carry me back home? The trainer was physically fit, but I think not even he was capable of lugging my almost 200 lbs frame four blocks back to my building. What if all the trainers helped in carrying me? Maybe we can fashion a makeshift stretcher out of the boxing mat? In my condition, it took almost 30 minutes just to form the previous questions.

Fortunately, during that time, my body had recovered enough strength to get up. Not wanting to look like a total dork, I told my trainer that I can finish two more rounds with him. The trainer, God bless his shorts, carried me through the remaining rounds.

I finished my workout and headed back home without further incident, but damn, that really scared away all my desire to overeat (at least for the next couple of hours or so). And it only strengthened my desire to get back into shape. Because not only is boxing is the perfect workout for me, it also has the fortunate side effect of regulating my blood sugar, helping with my psoriasis, as well as my arthritis.

I’ve been lobbying for a more healthy lifestyle for the wife and myself because we really have to be conscious about our health. We have to take care of ourselves, because unlike people who live near San Francisco nursing homes (how’s that for a seque?), we’ll have nobody to count on but ourselves to take care of us.

Now back to making sure our streets are safe for our kids.