Okay so why when most of my blogs had been building up to my fight did I go so quiet immediately after?
Was I KO’d, only to wake up in a hospital room one week later?
Embarrassed so badly that I not only hung up my gloves but put down my pen as well?
Or perhaps it was something more sinister – I went against the bookie who had paid me to go down in the second, then bet on myself, won the bout and pulled a runner?
Well no, unfortunately nothing as exciting as the above, and if you really want to know – it actually went fine, thankyouverymuch.
I lasted all three rounds, only dropped my guard a few times and managed to give as well as I got. All right, so maybe I took a few more punches than what I dished out (my very bloody nose will attest to that), but I take solace in the fact that I hurt my opponent, too.
Which is nice considering you can’t really go about hitting people these days. Not unless you want to deal with all the admin of holding cells, lawyer’s letters and looking over your shoulder every time you go out.
In retrospect my discipline could’ve been better. I shouldn’t have used up so much energy in the first round. Or tried to throw my opponent to the mat in frustration when he got up close in the second. And I definitely should never have thrown that wild haymaker in the third, which made me pirouette so that my opponent was standing directly behind me…
But then that was kind of the point of fighting so early, to make these mistakes so that I could learn from them. Let me tell you, my next fight – and there will be a next fight – will be a far more spectacular affair. For one I’ll train for six months instead of six weeks and get properly fit. Because even though I was doing two private coaching sessions a week, sparring on a Wednesday, playing football on a Thursday, surfing on weekends and swimming a kilometre every day – I still wasn’t fit enough to box for six minutes.
So why has the blog been so quiet?
Well I took a sabbatical of sorts – one week off before the final month of our #MHTeamFit Challenge.
And not only did I not train, but I was also eating junk (is it just me or was there a lot of cake in the office last week?), drinking too much (jolling on a school-night is too easy when you don’t have to wake up for early morning training), and, honestly, what was I going to blog about – drinking R13 quarts at a Great Apes concert?
You’d think that reverting to my old ways would be as easy as falling off a horse, and you’d be right, but there was just one small problem: I actually missed the routine and discipline of my workouts, the lactic acid and the sweat, the camaraderie at The Armoury and smugly refusing sweet treats from Charlie’s Bakery.
This seven-day setback was important in the sense that it has shown me that I still want it.
“It” being healthy, fit and with a midriff you could wash your clothes on.
It was easy waking up at 5:00 this morning and hitting the road while it was still dark. I thought about my fight – the first round of which you can watch below – and how I’d like the next one to go.
Next time I want to be worthy of the Jeremy Scott x adidas boots that I boxed in.
Because you can be windgat or you can be slapgat, but you can’t be both.