Ring-Card Girls. Three small words. But stand by for big arguments when they’re mentioned in conversation between men and women.

Adam Welsh is a British-based Human Resources Manager with a keen interest in many sports, including boxing. You may have seen him commenting here on The Glowing Edge.

He recently asked me what I thought about ring card girls (he’s asked lots of thoughtful and interesting questions), and as a result he not only sparked a number of offline conversations about the subject, but he also quickly responded when I invited him to write up his unique observations for posting here.

I’ve also posted my own thoughts down below…

You first, Adam. What do you think about ring card girls?

Most guys (including me) have the hots for those high-heeled, scantily-clad ladies who strut their stuff between rounds at pro boxing shows, holding aloft a card showing the number of the next stanza.

When it comes to keeping their customers satisfied, of course, promoters are influenced by a basic gender consideration: boxing crowds are predominantly male.

Male hormones and boring fights

Your average Joe Six-Pack expects three Bs when he attends a fight night: Boxing, Beer and Babes. And there’s no shortage of models, dancers and wannabes prepared to dress skimpily and duck through the ropes every three minutes.

People who watch boxing on television may not realize that a full bill of bouts contains many instantly forgettable fights.  To counter boredom, promoters use the card-girls to add spectacle and maintain interest. Yep, that’s how shallow many guys are.

The card-girls are such an established feature now that it would be hard to imagine a show without them.

Women, sexuality, and violence

But some women get annoyed and offended by a spectacle they consider sexist, degrading and juvenile.

“Typical male fantasy-gratification” was the reaction of a woman I know who stopped going to fight nights because the atmosphere created every three minutes made her feel uncomfortable.

Other women think it’s not appropriate for the brutality of the boxing ring to be glamourised in this way. They feel uneasy about the link between violence and sex appeal.

Boxing show or strip club?

One innovation that probably alienated many women in the 1990s was the regular “Miss Ringsider” contest at Budweiser-sponsored promotions in the Great Western Forum, CA. Wearing high-cut one-piece swimsuits, the girls lined up in the ring and paraded one by one to compete for cash prizes, decided by the fans’ votes.

Mind you, that was nothing compared to a promotion I attended in London about ten years ago, which had me asking “Is this a boxing show or a strip club?”

Two card girls wore the tiniest bikinis I’ve ever seen – three postage stamps held together with spaghetti-thin string – and the noise between rounds was deafening. Some of the comments directed at the girls were unrepeatable, and the atmosphere was unpleasant and embarrassing, especially for the small number of female fans present.

The promoter rightly received a warning from the British Boxing Board of Control.

Ring card girls at women‘s fights

In particular, the sight of card-girls during women’s bouts has been called “disrespectful” to the female fighters. An article in The Ring magazine a few years ago called for promoters to drop card-girls from women’s contests.

But do female boxers, locked in intense physical combat, take the slightest notice of the inter-round entertainment?

I’m not aware of any objections raised by women boxers (tell me if I’m wrong). You could argue, in fact, that the fleeting, superficial appearance of the glamour girls serves to highlight the integrity and authenticity of the female fighters.

Here to stay?

As long as the audiences at fight nights are predominantly male, ring-card girls are likely to remain a fixture.

No doubt the growing  number of women spectators will continue to roll their eyes at the immaturity of their men-folk. And discuss among themselves – if they can hear anything over the din – how the latest vision of loveliness to pose and pout around the ring could possibly be comfortable in that one-piece mini-dress which looks like it was painted on.

Ok, Lisa’s turn.

Adam, you nailed it in one: mostly the women boxers’ conversations revolve around how teeny the outfits are and how wobbly they must feel trying to navigate on a padded surface in their 13-inch lucite heels.

And in a rather odd turn-about, at one of my fights the promoter put in “ring card guys” — which sounded pretty damn good to me at first, but then I realized it was intended as a joke. They were goofy-dressed dudes who hammed up their caricatures of female ring card girls. I rolled my eyes and had absolutely no interest, although it’s possible the crowd got into it.

And no, I don’t (personally) mind too much that the whole Miss Stripper America thing goes on between rounds. I believe it’s there for the same reasons you already mentioned.

Catching the most fish

And I finally decided that all male-dominated sports (and other entertainments like movies, etc.) that include female eye candy in one form or another do so for one big fat reason above all.

And that is to widen the net.

In other words, promoters and publishers and directors and so on are working hard to capture as many ticket-purchasers as they possibly can.

For men who aren’t rabid boxing fans, they offer a walking centerfold fantasy girl between every round in order to “sweeten the deal” and secure the purchase.

Here’s an alternative to Ring Card Girls…

I love women’s roller derby. We have an incredible team here called the Carolina Rollergirls.

If I weren’t boxing, I would definitely go out for this team. These women are incredibly tough, very skilled at their sport (which is fairly complex), and they know how to have a great time and put on a phenomenal show.

Just like in boxing, you can sit right up next to the track, but in derby, if there’s a spectacular wipeout — and there are plenty — you can revel in the thrill of possibly getting injured yourself as a tangle of helmeted women come flying at extremely high speed in your direction. Believe me, derby gets pretty involved.

They serve beer at the roller derby. A game lasts about an hour and a half. And between jams (about the equivalent of a boxing round) there’s plenty of action. The jammers are the superstars of the derby, and crowds love a great blocker, but absolutely everyone on the track (up to 5 per team) has a major role to play.

Commentators keep the crowd involved, especially by explaining some of the complexities of roller derby play and scoring. They also lighten the mood with funny comments about each of the players, their habits (bad and good), naming (roller derby names are way more fun than ring names), and tactics (dirty and fair).

The Carolina Rollergirls mascot, Evil Ed, is a (fully dressed) blood-splattered skating skeleton who also keeps things lively.

There are giveaways, raffles, charity events, music, antics, and any number of entertaining things that happen between bouts (halves) of the game, and after the game the players are frequently available to chat, sign autographs, and get to know the fans.

The audience is about equally split between male and female, and despite the sometimes serious and potentially damaging nature of the sport, it’s also incredibly family-friendly. That’s two of my boys at a Carolina Rollergirls game. (I didn’t let them get any closer to the track than that!)

I love boxing. Love it. But derby has figured out so many things that boxing has missed.

We may never see roller derby selling high-dollar tickets and winning a mass audience. But if that’s the case, maybe it’s better to be on the fringe.

Okay, everybody. Your turn to chime in!

No related posts.

You knew this. I knew this. But periodically I’m reminded.

Last night I went 4 rounds (at the end of my workout, I must add, because I’m vain. Also a masochist.) with a good friend and freaking awesome sparring partner at my boxing gym.

Sinclair is a phenomenal peer coach; he’s forever smiling and goofing around with the kids, and yet he moves so fast on the bags and in the ring you’ll wonder if he’s real, and not just a ghost. You punch, he’s not there. Except for that blinding mouthguard-enhanced grin.

He also spontaneously breaks out and dances. In the ring, in the gym. He just a dancin’ kinda guy. I love Sinclair.

And yesterday he offered to give me some rounds in the ring and I took them before he could change his mind.

All my joy comes out when I fight well, but with someone like Sinclair, it comes out even if I’m tired and draggin’ ass, which I was.

Somewhere in the middle of the second round, Sinclair did a little stutter step, looked off to the left, and before I could pivot he nailed me with a gorgeous stiff right. I stopped in shock — not because the right stung (it did), but because the whole combination was so unexpected and… so pretty! So danceable! And damned effective.

I immediately demanded that he do it again.

Well of course he loved that. He laughed and took me to the whupin’ shed again. And this time I tried to watch for it, but he still caught me. Fast boy.

I made him stop, of course, and insisted he show me the move. He did, patiently demonstrating several times and encouraging me to try it.

I got it in my mind, we bumped gloves and circled, I launched my offensive and waited for my opening.

Whoop, I slipped it in, and found myself reeling from his counterpunch. I say counter punch, but he actually anticipated my tricky new move and prevented it! That wily rat. Taking advantage of a mere uneducated girl. (See what cards I pull when I want my way?)

I shouted my outrage, and dug in for a battle.

He told me to bring it, and I did. What I had left, anyway. I caught him once or twice with a power right (my fave) and a couple of inside shots in the clinch, but I held off on the tricky new move, instead opting for what I knew worked.

That and any other slop I had left.

He shouted for our coach to come over and watch just as the bell for the fourth round sounded.

Crap. Tired as I was, I scraped the bottom of the barrel and dove back in. I had one goal: pull the new trick in front of Coach Massey and give Sinclair a little party favor to remember me by.

And I did it!

I was so overjoyed at catching him clean that I turned around in the ring (don’t ever do that, boys and girls) and demanded acknowledgement from Coach Massey. Sinclair was laughing his head off behind me.

Massey tried not to grin. “You need to sell that move better,” he commented dryly. “You got to look off in the direction you’re stepping off in. Make him believe it. Then the right.”

I sighed happily, and plowed back into my round.

Massey had 6 succinct words for me, as I staggered out of the ring.

“You gotta get in ring shape.”

He’s right. I’ve been out, maintaining “normal athlete” fitness levels, but ring fitness is a totally different level, and after my last fight, I took a break from it for a season.

But damn, people, it just feels so good to fight.

It’s it’s own motivation, truly.

If you’re thinking about boxing with any kind of seriousness, I hope you find a great gym, a great trainer, and an incredible sparring partner like Sinclair.

There’s plenty of joy in there for you, too.

Image: That’s me in the gold and black, fighting in Atlanta (my second fight).

Related posts:

1. I LOVE Not Being the New Person in the Gym
2. Back in the Ring to Take Another Swing
3. Alicia “Slick” Ashley to Headline “Brooklyn Explosion” Fight Card

A boxing sparring session is radically different than an actual match. If I had to choose between the two, sparring wins every time. It can be unbelievably beautiful to watch, particularly when the two boxers agree — implicitly or explicitly — to maintain a certain flow, to match and challenge each other but not overwhelm.

You see this kind of beauty in many professional fights, although not as much in amateurs since both fighters are jazzed on nerves and gunning for the knockout. It’s rarely as controlled.

Dave G. sent me the link to this incredible sparring session between Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. and Vanes Martirosyan, and I’ve watched it several times now, just soaking up how fabulous it is.

But it’s clearly between pros who are at the top of their game and ungodly strong. Did you see all those uppercuts Martirosyan landed? Holy sh*t. Of course he got his nose bloodied by Chavez, but I’d rather have the bloody nose than have to take those punishing uppercuts.

And these guys are working for the cameras… This is not your average-Joe sparring session. (I’m fighting the urge to add “Do not try this at home, kids.”)

Dave asked a question about sparring, as well:

What is the damage you sustain after an average sparring session?

I sustained a bloody nose and again a bruised lip this week. Since a lot of the fighters matching my skill don’t show up anymore, it’s slim pickings. People tend to drop out a lot in martial arts I noticed. Anyway, if I want to spar I have no choice but to fight against the competitive fighter who is always around. I outweigh him about 30 pounds, but he sure is fast.

I am aware that you seldom get out unscathed from a session, maybe I should switch to headgear with a nose guard but those seem way too bulky.

I’d love to hear your take on this!

The main injuries are fairly simple.

I often have a headache the next day after a hard sparring match, but it’s usually treatable with an ibuprofen or three. I don’t really count that as an injury, but it’s part of the package.

My single most common issue is bruised lips, which isn’t surprising, since your lips and nose are the least protected parts of your face when you’re wearing headgear.

I have a friend (Hi, Eric!) who seems to get nosebleeds a lot, and that’s not too unusual for the same reason. We both hate the headgear with the bar across the face because they are so bulky and they obstruct your vision more, but it’s an option.

The black eyes are less common, but I’ve had a few. I would guess that heavyweights get them more than lightweights like me; our punches just don’t pack the same kind of power. I got every single one of my black eyes when sparring with a heavyweight partner.

I also got my broken rib during sparring, but that was more unusual. I’ve only seen that happen two other times in the years I’ve been boxing.

There are several things that go into determining how much injury you commonly get during a sparring session.

1. The weight match of the sparring partners. I typically expect bigger partners to control their shots so that I don’t get hurt, but it doesn’t always happen that way.
2. How hard you both agree to work. It’s best if you can be explicit, but sometimes you think you have an agreement, but one person starts to increase their power. You have to continue to communicate — either with words or with force — or you can get in trouble here…
3. Experience level (whether or not you have good control of your punches). Newbies are notorious for causing damage, but more experienced boxers should be able to move faster and avoid the damage. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t.
4. What kind of gear you’re wearing. Like I mentioned, I hate the face-savers, but I love a no-foul. You can see that both boxers in the video above are wearing groin protectors and both of them got shots that landed on them. These take the edge off rib shots, too, not to mention the dreaded liver shot.
5. The number and length of rounds you spar. I like being a part of a team session where we’re trading off rounds; you can endure for longer and get a lot of learning in. But there’s great value in sparring the same number and length of rounds you do in a fight, too. I almost never get to do this since I’m usually the only woman in the gym, and men’s rounds are 3 minutes rather than 2. But when I’m getting ready for a match I insist on 2 minute rounds so I can get used to the rhythm.
6. What kind of trainer you have. Sometimes one or another coach who is overseeing the sparring is out for blood, and is urging their fighter to rip you to shreds. I hate being in that situation, but I’ve definitely been there. I try to avoid this kind of session and this kind of trainer; I don’t respond well to being screamed at. But you do see it in boxing gyms, that’s for sure.

The truth is that I try to avoid bad sparring matches, although I’ve had a few, and I will go out of my way to set up sessions with partners I know I can trust and get the best work with. I’ll travel to another gym if I can’t get good sparring where I am, and I really try to maintain good relationships with several area gyms so that I can do this.

I also don’t spar all that frequently, since it’s pretty hard on the body. At my last gym we sparred every Friday, and you better believe there were plenty of people who showed up once or twice for a Friday, then dropped out completely or only came on other team nights.

There’s a huge (huge!) difference between training for boxing and actually boxing, and it’s definitely a big hurdle for people. I completely understand why lots of people would not want to spar; I really do. It’s not for everyone.

But I think it could be for more people if gyms would set the right tone, and help make the matches better.

I’d love to hear what everyone else has to say; leave a comment below and let’s mix it up!

Related posts:

1. What to Expect the First Time You Spar in Boxing
2. New Lessons in Sparring: Controlling the Ring
3. New Sparring Partner

I took 6 weeks off of boxing lately, mostly just to rest, focus on work, and give myself a break after my last fight.

I’m not crazy, though — I kept up my runs and weights at home. I just didn’t do any boxing-specific work. No heavy bag, no sparring, no punching drills. I didn’t even show my nose at the gym.

When I went back for the first time this week I carefully stayed out of the classes that were training in the gym and did my own slow and careful workout: warm-up, shadowboxing, 10 rounds on the heavy bag.

The next two days showed me the muscles I had not been training while out of boxing: forearms, lats (although I swear I did lats!!), and some obliques. Also my neck was sore from carrying all the tension of the first workout back.

But amazingly, my shoulders were good.

I’ve had chronic bursitis in my hips and shoulders for as long as I can remember.

You gotta have shoulders to box.

You gotta have everything, I guess, but I never would have guessed that I could actually find work-arounds for the issues I have to deal with in my body’s performance, and still box well.

I was over 40 when I started this sport, and I was astonished that I could box well even though my hip joint issues meant I couldn’t run distance (for me, that means more than 4 miles).

Now I’m learning that I don’t have to punish my shoulder joints, either, in order to compete in the ring.

At first I sweated hard to learn to do dozens of standard push-ups, along with burpees, pull-ups, and the other shoulder-intense exercises. For several years I dealt with a level of everyday pain that I thought I would have to live with, if I was going to box.

Then I tore the rotator cuff in my right shoulder (doing unassisted pull-ups), requiring 3 months of physical therapy and a lot of time out of the ring.  That shoulder became — and still is — the single body part I most have to favor.

My physical therapist — a pro fighter a few years older than me — told me to cut back on the heavy shoulder work. “You’ll still box just fine,” she assured me. And I decided to test it out.

So I stopped obsessing about building the number of push ups I could do, and I started re-working my personal training workouts.

And my pain levels started to recede…

But the real challenge is in what to do when the whole team is working out together.

I began by thinking up a few alternate exercises.

For example, when the team is doing entire rounds of toe-taps on the medicine ball, I do steps instead, which hurt my hips less. When the team is doing burpees, I do deep lunges instead. If the command is for 50 standard push ups, I’ll do knee push ups.

It’s extremely difficult to be doing something different from everyone else on the team, but I try to tell myself that I’m 46 and they are 20, and I’m allowed. I can still meet them with a nasty-ass right when the bell rings.

This one single thing — not doing what everyone else is doing — is the absolute hardest part of my sport. I must have a big pride thing going on, because I absolutely *hate* having to do my own thing. But I’ve finally decided to do it anyway.

And I’ve found that my results in the ring are just as good, which is why I am sticking with it.

The second thing I’ve changed is to lower the weights, reps, and impact.

If the call is for 50 arm lifts with weights, I’ll do 30, or lighten the weight. I don’t shadow box with 5-pound weights, I use 1-pounders instead. Believe me, I could do all this stuff full-bore before, but I paid a heavy price in pain levels and injuries.

And there was simply no need to do that.

The third thing I’ve done is test the time limits.

By testing, I’ve found that I can do as many 1 minute (not 3 minute) sets of toe-taps as everyone else and still be relatively pain-free.

I’ve been working actively on that particular exercise, so I haven’t yet tested 2 minute rounds, but the 1 minute rounds are solid.

I can’t change all my time limits, but I change the ones that hit my hips and shoulders the worst. Amazingly, sparring is not affected at all. Which is probably further proof — if I needed it — that just because I’m not starting every workout with 100 push-ups doesn’t mean I am going to suck in the ring.

When I was back in the gym this week for the first time in 6 weeks, I was struck by how many shoulder-intense exercises both training groups were doing.

One coach had the team doing literally hundreds of dips, followed by alternating-hand push-ups on a medicine ball. (If you start with your left hand on the ball and your right hand on the floor, you do a push-up, then shift quickly so that your right hand is now on the ball and your left is on the floor. Repeat. It takes balance, speed, and lots of shoulder strength.) Anyone who fell behind was assigned 50 more push-ups.

That session would have been a total loss for me.

As it was, I did my own workout, which involved exactly zero dips or push-ups. I’ll put some of those in there as I get going again, but it will be far less than those guys are doing.

In the end, my lesson has been — once again — that I have to know my own body and look out for myself. Even in the face of pressure from a coach or the team.

So I’m passing it along to you. Boxing is an incredible, joy-giving, empowering sport and with a basic level of fitness, you can do it. Even if you’re over 40. Even if you have cranky hips and shoulders. You can do it!

And so can I.

Image by walleydog

Related posts:

1. A Look Inside Boxing Training
2. I Got My First Boxing Trophy
3. Blood Happens (but I’m really sorry)

The Holly Holm (30-2-3, 9-KOs) vs Anne Sophie Mathis (26-1, 22-KOs) “World Dominance” fight is bothering me, and it should bother everyone with a stake in professional boxing.

Both of these phenomenal, world-class boxers fought well and did absolutely nothing wrong. However, referee Rocky Burke and Holm’s corner were not only neglectful, but dangerous.

Holm is a punch-and-move technical boxer with tremendous foot speed, and Mathis is an out-and-out powerhouse brawler with a knockout right. It was an outstanding match-up, and the first five rounds were incredible.

In the fifth, Holm seemed to move less and trade more bombs, and the damage began to pile up on her. The ref called Mathis for rabbit punches (which can take a serious toll), but that was apparently his last good call.

In the sixth, Mathis dropped Holm to the canvas, and after FAILING to issue a count, the ref let a weaving, disoriented Holm face further mauling from Mathis.

At the bell, Holm’s corner had their first opportunity to make a exit plan, but they didn’t, as far as I can tell.

The seventh round was a travesty — not at all what good boxing should be.

Holm had no more legs, and mostly swayed and staggered, with her head drooping and guard wide, just taking shot after shot from Mathis.

At one point Holm was beat back into the ropes and actually became entangled, hanging drunkenly as Mathis ripped into her, tearing open a gash on her cheekbone before the ref finally made his way over to help Holm out of the ropes, propping her upright and signaling the fighting to resume.

Mathis unleashed two rights in a row on the incoherent Holm, putting her through the ropes and nearly onto the judges’ table. She was pushed back into the ring where she rolled to her side, completely limp, blood streaming from her face.

In the photo below you can see that Holm is still having to hold herself up by draping an arm over the ropes, even as she finally receives attention from her team.

Mathis behaved impeccably. There was no jeering, parading, or trumpeting over the fallen Holm. Mathis won the fight and deserves the title; of that there is no question.

Holm did her best to do what her inattentive corner left her in there to do. I can understand their decision to let it go in the sixth, but why they allowed their fighter to be brutalized in the seventh, when she clearly couldn’t protect herself, return a shot, or even hold herself upright, is unimaginable.

The ref failed her utterly. I don’t even have words for him.

Holly’s post-loss press video is heartbreaking…

The fiasco has garnered some press, but of course since it’s a women’s fight there won’t be nearly the outrage that there should be.

The thing I’m most curious about is what Holm’s conversations with her trainers and corner were like, in the privacy of their own gym, after the initial devastation of the fight was past…

I hate when fights are called too early, but in this case there was no doubt in my mind that serious mistakes were made, and that a fighter’s life was needlessly endangered, both by the ref and by the corner.

I know boxing is a tough sport, and people get hurt. But there’s a line, and this one went well past it.

What do you think?

Related posts:

1. Chevelle Hallback vs Holly Holm in “Warrior Vengeance”
2. Bad Blood Fight Happens Without Hernandez
3. Melissa Hernandez vs. Holly Holm: Women Boxers Talk Smack!

The Maker is here to give you all the ninja secrets you need.

I remember shooting this a couple of months ago, and being once again surprised at the stuff this boy keeps inside his head. I know, I know, YouTube. Still, for an 11-year-old dude, he impresses me.

So. Click “play” and learn to make your silent secret ninja tee-shirt headwrap.

And because the new video made me think of another he did, I’ve re-posted that one too, so that you can  find out how to do a ninja bow (both with and without a sword.

But more importantly, you will uncover super secret hidden knowledge about any ninja fight you might find yourself in. Because unlike with normal people, there’s no ring, ropes, or bells. (Notice how I just made myself “normal”? That felt pretty awesome.)

In fact, it’s terribly important that you watch the second video through to the end. Otherwise you could have your ignorant ninja head chopped off.

I think.

Maker-Ninja knows all. If you have ninja questions, please post them and I’ll implore him to reveal more of his hidden ninja secret knowledge.

Image by thedalogs on Flickr

Related posts:

1. The Ninja Bow
2. Ninja Ice
3. It’s All in the Job Title

I have a wonderful friend who shifted her passion, not so very long ago, from weightlifting to boxing. Her name is Amy, and you may have met her here, as she’s frequently a part of the conversation.

Recently I received a beautiful email from Amy about a new dream being born in the community of her gym.

It reminded me a little of the Ignite Raleigh and Ignite Durham events I was a part of — but this one has a fresh angle that gives it added interest and power.

It’s called 5×5, and it’s an opportunity for people to share their dream for 5 minutes on stage, and ask for the judges to award them part of a $5000 grant to start bringing their idea to life.

I’ll let Amy share more in her own words:

When I spar with Shari, a friend and trainer at the boxing gym, I can hardly land a clean punch. There’s no hitting this woman: she’ll block your jab and smack away your right hand, no matter how fast the attack. And then she’ll wrap you in a hug and tell you what a great job you did.

That’s Shari in a nutshell. Life has thrown her a variety of punches, including cancer and a son’s disability, but nothing knocks her down, and nothing gets in the way of her concern for others, especially young people.

Even before Shari told me some of her many ideas on how she wants to help people, I could see the natural way she dealt out love, especially the tough kind, to the kids in our gym. She is exactly what they need. Which means she can do a lot of good elsewhere, too, as she’s proven time and again.

A local initiative called 5×5 night awards up to $5000 for great ideas. I helped Shari write up the idea she’s most passionate about: Mothers raising mothers. Experienced moms mentoring teen moms through parenthood and life.

Our boxing gym has offered space, so the money can be directed toward making the dream happen.

If enough people vote for her idea, she’ll be able to present it at their event later this month and possibly win the money.

All it takes is going to 5x5night.com and clicking on the green button labeled “Register Now to Vote.”

Once you’re registered, view the ideas and vote for Shari and THE VILLAGE.

This morning, when we were on the phone working out details of getting together to get this online, Shari started talking to me about bullying, something about a new kind of neighborhood watch, how she’s designed a window sticker. I realized that even as we were preparing to launch one great idea, she was ready with the next.

Your vote will mean a lot to a lot of people. Please note that voting ends in just ten days–December 13.

http://5x5night.com/

No related posts.

When my freelance writing business really started humming this fall, I decided that I was ready to get my purse dog.

I’m home, happily working on the computer all day, but I wanted company. Olive and Henry are not particularly focused on my needs, so I paid them back in full. (Actually, Olive adores my solution.)

Meet Rocky.

He already had his name when I got him, so don’t go all “Ooooh, she named him after a boxer, cause, you know, she’s a boxer too…I get it!”

And Rocky is terrified of pretty much everything except our family and cats, definitely not the fearless type. He hasn’t yet been able to make it on a walk around our block yet, because there are… noises. Strange people. Children on scooters, horrors!

But we’re working on that. Periodically I try to get Rocky all pumped up by calling him by more fierce, ass-kicking names. “Rocky Bruce Chuck John Jet Clint!” I’ll say. “Let’s go get ‘em!”

He sits happily near my pillow and wonders if he’s about to get a treat.

So of course I give him one, ’cause he’s just so damn adorable.

Rocky is a Mi-Ki, which is a breed that comes out of a Papillon, Maltese, and Japanese Chin. He has the “Phalen,” or flop-down ears, which is what the Papillons originally had, before they were bred for the “up” ears. Both are adorable (types of ears and dogs), and both are acceptable in the breed.

Just like Papillons, Mi-Kis are bred to be companion dogs. They’re quiet, calm, and attentive, very much like a cat with loyalty. Rocky is utterly content to sit in my lap or by my feet all day long, with periodic breaks to play chase and tumble with Olive. He doesn’t yap (although he does bark once or twice to warn me if he hears a strange noise), and he’s not boingy like some little dog breeds. That’s a picture of me, taking my music lesson, while Rocky poses cutely nearby.

This breed has feet shaped like rabbit feet, and they have long hair that grows between their toes, like Hobbits. I don’t know, all dogs may have toe fur, but Rocky’s is the best, of course. He also has an adorable pink tummy. (Don’t get excited, I’m still not a “dog person,” it’s just that Rocky is not really a, you know, dog.)

Mi-Kis, like Papillons, don’t have an undercoat, so they hardly shed, and yes indeedy I did buy him a sweet little coat for the cold weather (it’s grey, very masculine). And I didn’t even flinch when handing over $20 for a piece of quilted fabric about as big as a napkin.

The picture at the top is Rocky with The Duck Twins. They are his current favorite obsession. Martha Stewart made those for him, and I paid top dollar, I tell you, top dollar for them. It was worth it. They have squeakies.

You may think I can’t tell The Twins apart but I can, because Rocky chewed the foot off of one of them. I’ve included a close up so you can view the damage. When I asked him where the amputated body part was he went all Cookie Monster on me, shaking his head and going “Om, nom, nom, nom!”

Did I mention his favorite treat is duck jerky? No lie, this is available for your dog at Target. I have to cut ours down to a reasonable size, but Rocky thinks it is the greatest. food. evar.

Well, except for cat food, which he tries to sneak when I’m not looking. Olive encourages this.

Of course, “little” Olive outweighs Rocky by a good bit — she’s 8 pounds and he’s 5 (they’re both full grown), and Olive can whup him in a fight if she’s a mind to. But she pretty much indulges Rocky in anything and everything, and they have a lovely time together.

In fact, I caught Olive using her brain (who knew she even had one!) recently in a Rocky-n-Olive romp session. You know that old Looney Tunes gag where Bugs Bunny is being chased in a circle by Yosemite Sam, and once they are a solid blur, Bugs steps calmly out and crunches his carrot while watching Sam continue to run crazily by? Who would have thought Olive would be able to do that — successfully! — to Rocky. But I have witnessed this with mine own eyeballs. It’s the first cat-like behavior (other than napping) that Olive has ever exhibited.

Henry… is the same with Rocky as he is with everyone. He sighs heavily and tries to pretend we don’t exist.

So that’s our happy little expanded family.

Now please excuse me while I go change the tab above from “Henry & Olive” to “Henry, Olive, & Rocky.”

Related posts:

1. Olive Shows Some Cat Smarts
2. Olive Channelling Henry
3. Introducing Olive

I had my first fight with my Second Round team in Wilmington.

It’s always a toss-up, fighting Masters, as to whether I’ll actually get an opponent. I weighed in at an event last month and my opponent didn’t show. Women over the age of 35 who want to compete in the ring are few and far between, then there is the further narrowing of the field because of weight class, experience level, geography, and the random unexpected injuries, family demands and other contingencies.

Because it’s so difficult to get opponents, my goal has become to get one fight every year. Last year got checked off with my October fight. (The December fight was classified “exhibition” and doesn’t count toward my goal.) This year got checked off with my fight in March. I’m feeling a little gleeful to have met and exceeded my goal for this year now!

My opponent got connected for this match through a coach in Wilmington about 3 weeks ago. He had let my coach know she was light and we’d have to get our weights closer in order to get the match. I got down from 142 to 135 and I think she came up from 125 to 132. And she drove 6 hours from Virginia to be at the event; I only had to drive two hours.

We both arrived just before weigh-ins were scheduled to begin. There were only 6 women out of the 44 total boxers fighting at this event, and only one Masters bout; I picked her out immediately. She was really beautiful, and just a bit shorter than me. I smiled and spoke to her.  Not everyone wants to chat with their opponent in advance of a match, but she was entirely polite. We made weight, turned in our passbooks, and parted ways to wait out the endless, miserable hours of the day until we could get our fight.

I love pretty much everything about boxing except the day of a fight.

Well, and cutting or gaining weight; those both suck, but they are at least bearable. The endless hours of waiting for a tiny, six minute test of your skill and power are excruciating.

Everyone has different tricks and coping mechanisms, but there’s no escaping the endless circus of weigh-ins, passbooks, medicals, getting your food/liquid intake right and timed, sitting for hours in metal folding chairs, finding a bathroom (this one didn’t have toilet paper), constantly tamping down your anxiety, keeping an eye on the time, meeting your opponent, staying limber, and maintaining sanity in the loud din of the crowd.

Every time I go through it I take a paperback to read, but this never helps. There are too many things you must pay attention to during the long hours of waiting. Even having my Shuffle (finally got the playlist right — the quiet stuff from my exhibition fight had failed at fight #2 in Atlanta, so I went back to hard rock) didn’t help much, because I constantly had to take out my earbuds to answer questions, find out what I was expected to do next, help someone find scissors, etc., etc., etc.

Finally I dressed out and sat for my coach to wrap my hands. I normally love this ritual, but in this case, I was wracked with anxiety because my fight got moved up at the last minute so I felt late, after all that damn waiting. I straddled my metal chair, draped my arms over the back where Coach Massey could reach them, and spent the next 15 minutes staring at the bright silver dog tag on his chest. It says “One Bad Jab.” It was his ring name, from his pro fighting days.

“Do you miss fighting?” I asked him.

“Hell, no,” he responded, laughing and flashing his gold tooth. For just a moment I felt entirely aligned with his sentiment. Why would anyone want to go through this misery on a regular basis?

“I miss sparring though,” he continued, and I nodded in understanding. All the guts and joy of boxing without the hellish hours of a fight day.

Once you’re wrapped and gloved, you become entirely dependent on your coaches. I had to ask Coach Mandy to find my headband and put it on me for the short period before my match. She gave me a drink of water. She found my mouthpiece (in my sock — this is a great place to keep it in the hour before you fight, btw) and checked my laces.

I made my usual joke: “I need to go to the bathroom,” I said as I stretched out and began to move. The big gloves make this impossible, unless you have a reeeeeallly close friend.

“Can’t help you there,” she said quickly, and we both laughed a little.

I continued to chatter nervously, almost mindlessly: what I should remember, how I should move; combos, tactics, offenses and defenses.

At some point she stopped me quietly with a hand over my gloves.

“You’ve already trained for this,” she reminded me. “You’re overthinking it. Just let your body perform.”

She was absolutely right, and it was the perfect advice, the best possible thing I could have heard.

The match before mine was finishing. I stood ringside amid the din of screaming onlookers as the two fighters ahead of me battled. I couldn’t hear Coach Massey’s advice anymore. He held pads for me but I couldn’t hear the combos. I shuffled like an anxious racehorse, frustration rising in me.

Finally, the closing bell.

Massey held one pad. “Gimme the power,” he said, “Jab, right.”

I sighed in deep relief. If there is one thing I can do, this is it. My jab was fierce, and the right was at full-scale knockout level. It was like a pistol shot: bip-BAM.

“Again.”

Bip-BAM. Bip-BAM! I could hear it echo in the rafters.

“Keep going.”

Six more combos in a row I gave him, every one as perfect and loud and solid. He grinned and shook his head, and his gaze did a slow circle of the crowd around us; all eyes were now on us.

Later I realized that the eyes of my opponent were probably also on us. Massey knew what he was doing, letting me show my power like that. Letting me go in confident in my own strength.

Outside of the actual fight, it was the best moment of my entire night.

I rolled under the ropes and felt the deep satisfaction of the ring settle around me. Time to do what I do.

My opponent surged out with a flurry. I tapped out measuring jabs and began to circle, assessing what I was up against. It’s probably better to go ahead and claim the early part of the first round, but I wasn’t really expecting such a long, light string of flurries. She had punches in bunches, no doubt.

It didn’t take me long to see what I would be doing. Her hands were busy, but she was staying squared up a bit, giving me a sweet little pipeline down the center to her face. An invitation to my power right.

Bip-BAM, bip-BAM, bip-BAM. Yep, those were actually gonna work.

My jabs weren’t connecting every time, but my rights were absolutely solid, and every single one was on target. I suppressed my glee and put my brain back in gear. She was not bringing pain, but she might be scoring with the sheer number of shots she was throwing.

In the amateurs it doesn’t matter if you can throw a bomb; a hard hit scores the same as a medium hit, so long as it connects. Bombs are intimidating, but they aren’t 3-pointers.

I had to shut down her scoring machine. I clinched, got my arm around the back of her head and squeezed and leaned, hard. The ref nearly decked me himself, breaking the clinch and yelling at me for my patently illegal move. But it broke the onslaught and didn’t cost me. They’ll warn you before they take a point.

I glanced over to see how my opponent was taking it. Her face was flushed from the power rights already. I absolutely had to keep her on the end of my jab and prevent her inside game.

She rushed back out and we worked hard to the end of the round.

At the break both of my coaches told me I was ahead, but I wasn’t confident about it. I knew I wasn’t moving my feet and I thought the judges might be counting her shots higher, even though they were coming mostly from the sides. I felt like I’d only taken one or two solid shots to my head — nearly everything else was on my arms and shoulders, which meant my guard was good, but I wasn’t moving around enough.

The second round was where I began to rely on Coach Massey’s strategy. Once you’re in and have tried your game, it’s unbelievably helpful to have someone calling your shots and guiding you through the hard mental work while you do the physical work.

My attempts at longer combos were not scoring all the way through; my hooks often missed because I wasn’t getting in position and getting them off before she moved. She was fast, and seemed to throw four and five shots at a time.

Massey 86′d my hooks. “Straighten it out,” he called from my corner. “Give me the straight right….Thank you.”

The right was scoring and I still had all bars in my power meter. I wasn’t gassed. My feet were not moving, but my one-two continued to hold the fort.

She was slowing and starting to pant. The left side of her face was beginning to swell. I felt like a robot, an automatron, an idiot on repeat. Surely I could do something besides this, surely. Lord I wanted finesse, grace! I wanted to move less like a wooden toy; I wanted to show beauty as well as power. Why can’t I be pretty in the ring??

“Go to the body,” Massey called from the corner.

I sent up a mental thank you, and suddenly had something new to do.

“Double the jab,” he called, and I did. I did lots of things, but there was one thing that worked every time…

At the round break, I had the feeling we were going change gears. I don’t remember what either of my coaches said (other than their reassurance that I was still ahead), I mostly only recall going back out, still feeling slow but strong.

Massey held me back, over and over again, with a steady call of “Wait for her…” She was struggling now, and I could stand and deliver. If I could time it just right each time, she would come forward into my shots.

“Don’t advance,” he warned, “Hold…”

It was hard, because I felt I had to advance to score, but he was right, she was coming and with a surge of joy I realized I was beginning to see her shots arriving. Midway through the third I ducked a spectacular all-in jab-right, and she went sailing past me; the crowd roared. Belatedly I realized I should have come up with a quick left hook.

I sighed inwardly. Someday I may finally put all the pieces of this game together, but not today. Today I was a particularly skilled kindergartener, and my rights would have to carry the day.

And they did.

My opponent was wonderful. She never quit, she barreled forward and burned energy at a ferocious rate. She threw far more combos than I did. She didn’t let the hard power put her out. She gave game to the very last bell.

I deeply respect that. ANY woman — or man, for that matter — willing to go through what a competitive boxer goes through deserves the title Bad Ass. Sara (I never heard her last name), I salute you. You were awesome.

I was happy to be handed the gold medal, and once again I was stunned at my instant “I want to do this again” response, even though I’d spent the 24 hours before my glorious 6 minutes in pure anguish.

There’s no rational explanation.

Only the challenge to be better. Only the relentless push to master my body and make it perform in concert with my brain in the complex intricacies of this sweet science.

And the sheer, brutal pleasure of a fight.

Image: Coach Willie “One Bad Jab” Massey with me after the win. Thanks to Cathy Linkous for the photo!

Related posts:

1. How to Win a Fight in a Bar
2. Mann & Marinaccio WIN! “Mama Said Knock You Out” Fight Night Results
3. Fight Night: Winning and Losing in Atlanta

Next fights are always iffy, partly because it’s boxing, and also because I’m in the Masters (over 35), and female. There just don’t seem to be that many of us out there.

I went to weigh-ins for a match a month or so ago and didn’t get an opponent, which is fairly standard in boxing. In fact, 12 of my team went, and only 6 got matches.

This time I am a bit more hopeful, but I’m keeping my expectations tamped down. I’ll be very pleased to get the match if it does come through, but it will not be a huge deal if it doesn’t.

My opponent weighs 125, which means I’ve been cutting weight, which is miserable, since I’m already on a clean diet and normally fairly light (142). But I’ve been managing, and I hope to weigh in at 136 if I possibly can this weekend. If she’s gained at least a few pounds we’ll be in range and the match will be on.

I was chatting with Amy Scheer about this and told her about the weird rule in boxing (not all jurisdictions follow it) that you can’t weight in 1. Unshaven — no beard or ‘stache, boys, or 2. In jeans or pants. I told her that I plan to weigh in in my lightest ever undies, shorts, and a tank.

To cut the weight, I’ve mostly chosen to eliminate sugars and processed carbs. No Cheetos (aaaaugh!).  Goodbye to my periodic slice of whole grain toast. Tortilla chips reduced to 6 at any given time (I love hot salsa). No popcorn with the family (they have it all the time). No bread. No pasta. Bread and pasta were already nearly non-existent, anyway. Nothing processed or canned.

Even the sweeter fruits are gone — apples, oranges, and most bananas. Only raspberries, blueberries, strawberries, and cherries remain right now.

I’m eating a ton of raw broccoli, almonds, bell peppers, fresh asparagus, lean meat, onion, spinach, egg whites, plain yogurt, cottage cheese with berries, almonds, smoothies…

And I’m adding more green tea and oolong tea. I drink at least 3 cups a day now.

I’m still fantasizing about what I want to eat after the fight. Hot fresh donuts are currently leading. (Hellllllooooo, fast carbs!)

And I learned something new from Amy as I described my eating plan and we discussed particular food choices. In addition to choosing the right foods and maintaining an excruciatingly careful timeline of eating every day (to avoid the insulin spikes), I told her about one cutback issue I’ve been aware of and successfully dealing with this time around.

There’s only a difference of degree between dieting and starving. When your leptin levels drop (because you’ve cut back calories, which I’m doing right now) so does your metabolism and fat-burning ability. It usually happens after a week of dieting. Leptin is doing it’s job to make sure you have enough fat and energy to survive. That’s not good when I want to cut weight.

So I have to increase leptin levels in order to convince my body I’m not actually starving.

Amazingly, this can be done with a whopper of a treat. It takes a week of cutting to drop leptin levels by half, but only one “overfeed” to bring them back up. So a hunk of greasy pizza, some mac n cheese, a coupla Reese’s PB cups — but only once a week, and not crazed. The point is to give your body a good dose of carbs and fat together and your leptin goes back up to normal levels.

Amy mentioned that this was called “Carb Cycling,” which I had heard of, but didn’t know what it was. I used my formidable Google skillz and discovered she was right.

The other thing I’ve been doing is following my normal mental prep plan.

This really only has three steps:

1. Envision all the women I see in the course of my day as a potential opponent.

I look at the women in the gym, in the grocery store, at the park and everywhere, and I size them up. Rarely do I immediately dismiss any of the women I see as potential opponents. If they are three times heavier than me, I think about how I will have to be fast in order to avoid their power hits. If they look small and quick, I run through my defenses against the inside game. If they have big biceps I go over my own strengths and brace myself for a slugfest.

This seems to really help with the shock of seeing your opponent for the very first time.

2. Work through a round or two of boxing in my mind as I go to sleep each night.

I imagine my opening moves, my defense, and my general energy level. I replay certain things over and over again, and make myself quick, strong, and mentally on my game. I try to go to sleep boxing well.

3. Radio silence at all other times.

It doesn’t help me to focus too much on the upcoming match. I just get worked up and have a hard time focusing on other things, like my full-time work, family, or the crazy eating plan I have to be on. So I maintain mental white noise on the boxing channel, which helps keep this whole event from draining energy.

And that’s it! That’s my plan, and it’s what I’m going with.

How do you get ready for a big event? Do you have a plan you follow, or do you just do everything on the fly?

Images by Peter Gordon and Ravensmagiclantern

Related posts:

1. Fight trading
2. just cutting the grass (with scissors)
3. ready for his close-up