I've joined a new boxing club.
Seriously.
For real this time.
In 2008/2009 I joined Mr. Stuart's Martial Arts Center in West Chester, PA. I didn't have the money to join, so I kept an open gym for him on Sundays from 12-4PM. He let me hang around until he realized I was only showing up on Sundays, and nobody else was. He let me hang around until I accidentally broke his railing.
When I moved to Mount Kisco in 2010 I thought about joining a tiny little boxing gym situated in a second story walk up off Main Street for $60 a month. It was a lot less expensive that Stuart's spot, but about the same size as the gym I trained at in college, and Rudy found a way to squeeze a tiny ring in there with sagging black ropes. The only people I ever saw in there was Rudy, a homeless guy who would show up in loafers, hit he bag for a minute and then keep strolling down the street, and a young black kid named Ramon.
Ramon was a nice guy, and we sparred a couple times. He always got cocky whenever he found a way to land a punch. He would start to smile big and wave his arms like windmills, like Apollo Creed. He'd dance around like Muhammad Ali, never moving side to side, only backwards. But since Ramon wasn't either of those guys, he would end up stuck in a corner with his hands down and I'd knock the wind out of him and finish with a hook up top. He'd take a knee for a minute, we'd continue sparring until he would land another solid straight right, or strong jab, and I'd have to put him down again after he starts dancing around and cheesing like and idiot.
Rudy was also a part time hair dresser, cutting men's and women's hair in a small room he built to the left of the boxing ring. Rudy was a nice guy, maybe a bit punch drunk, but in the end I never went more than a dozen times over two years.
And now, after moving to New York two year ago, I've found a gym that is in my price range, while still offering a clean and modern facility. The place is called Progressive Boxing, and will at least get me back into some shape while also allowing me to punch things, which I really enjoy doing. The people are really nice, they have classes that tire even me out, and the ring take up only 25% of the total room. If this place has any flaw though I'd say it's the restrictive hours. They only have a couple classes a day and the "open gym" hours are only about an hour or two before their daily class scheduled starts. Now, I understand that the owner has a second job, and we all have to work, so if they were open from 9AM-5PM most people wouldn't show up, and I include myself in that category. However, flexable hours are nice, and my schedual is crazy enough right now that I would love me some late night open gym hours. That being said, the place is pretty sweet, and will at least make me feel less shitty about my current state of health.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not expecting to get back down to my old fighting weight of 156lbs, hell I weighted in at 188lbs this morning. And I don't see myself gearing up for the golden gloves, but maybe if I can buy some new boxing shoes, and find a head gear that fits, maybe I'll spar a bit, and maybe I'll get myself into some shape so I don't die when I'm 40.
A 6'5" 220lb guy is itching to spar me. I think it's because most of the guys at the gym aren't over 5'8" and when I told him I walk around at 190lbs he thought, "great, he's only 10lbs out of my weight class!" When really, I haven't fought a guy that heavy since Tim Driscoll gave me my first (and only) black eye at a church-converted gym in Mechanicsburg, PA. The last time I made the mistake of fighting a dude that tall I got my nose broken by a dude name 'leaf because I tried fighting like Smokin' Joe Frazier. This guy with the itch asked if I'd be at the next sparring session, I told him yeah, but that I didn't have a head gear, that I gave it to a guy named Hair after a sparring session that ended in a much disputed draw. "Well they wont let you spar without a head gear!" he told me. Oh well that's just too bad.
Did you know how expensive boxing equipment is? I looked online earlier tonight for some fresh new shoes and a USA Boxing certified head gear. I always bought my equipment in bulk for the team, or not at all. I'm going to have to wait for next week's pay check if I'm going to want to replace my equipment, which most I bought at Sports Authority seven or eight years ago.
As for Pre, I didn't introduce myself to anyone at the new gym with that name, even if I may secretly have wanted to. Pre was reserved for a guy who could run a five minute mile and then work out for a couple hours, then spar a few dudes for a dozen rounds. Now a days I probably couldn't do 30 pushups in a row, and I know I sure as hell can't run a sub 20minute 5K, let alone the low 18minute 5Ks I was doing back in 2005. But that's why I joined the gym, to get back into shape, and of course to punch stuff. I really enjoy punching stuff, and I think I may always have.
Seriously.
For real this time.
In 2008/2009 I joined Mr. Stuart's Martial Arts Center in West Chester, PA. I didn't have the money to join, so I kept an open gym for him on Sundays from 12-4PM. He let me hang around until he realized I was only showing up on Sundays, and nobody else was. He let me hang around until I accidentally broke his railing.
When I moved to Mount Kisco in 2010 I thought about joining a tiny little boxing gym situated in a second story walk up off Main Street for $60 a month. It was a lot less expensive that Stuart's spot, but about the same size as the gym I trained at in college, and Rudy found a way to squeeze a tiny ring in there with sagging black ropes. The only people I ever saw in there was Rudy, a homeless guy who would show up in loafers, hit he bag for a minute and then keep strolling down the street, and a young black kid named Ramon.
Ramon was a nice guy, and we sparred a couple times. He always got cocky whenever he found a way to land a punch. He would start to smile big and wave his arms like windmills, like Apollo Creed. He'd dance around like Muhammad Ali, never moving side to side, only backwards. But since Ramon wasn't either of those guys, he would end up stuck in a corner with his hands down and I'd knock the wind out of him and finish with a hook up top. He'd take a knee for a minute, we'd continue sparring until he would land another solid straight right, or strong jab, and I'd have to put him down again after he starts dancing around and cheesing like and idiot.
Rudy was also a part time hair dresser, cutting men's and women's hair in a small room he built to the left of the boxing ring. Rudy was a nice guy, maybe a bit punch drunk, but in the end I never went more than a dozen times over two years.
And now, after moving to New York two year ago, I've found a gym that is in my price range, while still offering a clean and modern facility. The place is called Progressive Boxing, and will at least get me back into some shape while also allowing me to punch things, which I really enjoy doing. The people are really nice, they have classes that tire even me out, and the ring take up only 25% of the total room. If this place has any flaw though I'd say it's the restrictive hours. They only have a couple classes a day and the "open gym" hours are only about an hour or two before their daily class scheduled starts. Now, I understand that the owner has a second job, and we all have to work, so if they were open from 9AM-5PM most people wouldn't show up, and I include myself in that category. However, flexable hours are nice, and my schedual is crazy enough right now that I would love me some late night open gym hours. That being said, the place is pretty sweet, and will at least make me feel less shitty about my current state of health.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not expecting to get back down to my old fighting weight of 156lbs, hell I weighted in at 188lbs this morning. And I don't see myself gearing up for the golden gloves, but maybe if I can buy some new boxing shoes, and find a head gear that fits, maybe I'll spar a bit, and maybe I'll get myself into some shape so I don't die when I'm 40.
A 6'5" 220lb guy is itching to spar me. I think it's because most of the guys at the gym aren't over 5'8" and when I told him I walk around at 190lbs he thought, "great, he's only 10lbs out of my weight class!" When really, I haven't fought a guy that heavy since Tim Driscoll gave me my first (and only) black eye at a church-converted gym in Mechanicsburg, PA. The last time I made the mistake of fighting a dude that tall I got my nose broken by a dude name 'leaf because I tried fighting like Smokin' Joe Frazier. This guy with the itch asked if I'd be at the next sparring session, I told him yeah, but that I didn't have a head gear, that I gave it to a guy named Hair after a sparring session that ended in a much disputed draw. "Well they wont let you spar without a head gear!" he told me. Oh well that's just too bad.
Did you know how expensive boxing equipment is? I looked online earlier tonight for some fresh new shoes and a USA Boxing certified head gear. I always bought my equipment in bulk for the team, or not at all. I'm going to have to wait for next week's pay check if I'm going to want to replace my equipment, which most I bought at Sports Authority seven or eight years ago.
As for Pre, I didn't introduce myself to anyone at the new gym with that name, even if I may secretly have wanted to. Pre was reserved for a guy who could run a five minute mile and then work out for a couple hours, then spar a few dudes for a dozen rounds. Now a days I probably couldn't do 30 pushups in a row, and I know I sure as hell can't run a sub 20minute 5K, let alone the low 18minute 5Ks I was doing back in 2005. But that's why I joined the gym, to get back into shape, and of course to punch stuff. I really enjoy punching stuff, and I think I may always have.
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