thelawofdharma

Training Log and Observations– Boxer, Me

Monday: Workout at St. Catharines Amateur Boxing Club

Tuesday: Workout at St. Catharines Amateur Boxing Club

Wednesday: “MUSHIN” with Wayne

Thursday: DAY OFF

Friday: DAY OFF

Saturday: Coop d’Kill Workout

Sunday: 5 km run, Abs and Push-Ups

A lot happened this week; in and out of the gym. All of this activity came close to sending this aspiring amateur boxer into a tailspin. This probably comes as no surprise to most of you. As my friend Grant would say, only someone like me could take a concept of Mushin (aka no mind) and over-think it.

Thankfully, my “over-thinking” brings me to a position in which I learn something about being a boxer and how occupying that role impacts me as an individual. (Grant, are you feeling like you want to shake the Mushin into me?!)

Here’s what I learnt this week:

Before I totally drive Grant nuts, I’ll stop here. Even a chronic over-thinker like myself has limits…and to be honest, I’m tired of writing. Mind you, if you were here with me now, I’d probably talk until your ears bled.

On a lighter note, I had a hell of a run today. It was my first run back after a month hiatus. It was great, but it hurt like a motherfucker. The only thing that got me through the last 1 km was listening to Jay-Z’s Dirt off Your Shoulder. It helped with the run as well as with today’s the residual blues from the Duke situation.

Dirt off Your Shoulder

You’re now tuned into the muh’fuckin greatest
Turn the music up in the headphones
Tim, you can go and brush your shoulder off
I got you, yeah

If you feelin like a pimp, go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, go and brush your shoulders off

Crazy baby, don’t forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder

My overnight trips to Toronto have taken on a certain pattern. The trip starts off with excitement as I drive down to spend time with an old friend. Well, to be honest (and I plan on being brutally so), this person is more than an old friend; he was my first love and is now someone I’ve reconnected with 20 years later. As it turns out, I have more in common with this person than just about anyone I’ve met in the last six years. So, yes, definitely my drive to Toronto is one that is fuelled by hope.

Upon my arrival, I tend to go to the best coffee shop that I’ve been introduced to in TO – Cherry Bomb. Here I order an Americano, a cranberry double chocolate cookie and people-watch. Okay, I people-watch and try to pull my shit together. I don’t want my excitement or hope (which are simmering below the surface) to overflow and undo me.

I tend to sufficiently manage my shit before meeting up with…what should his name be? Let’s call him Duke. (That choice is a call out to you, Hannah-Belles.) Okay, so shit managed, check, and Duke and I are off to the races, check.

I won’t bore you with the details of our time together. Like I said earlier, it’s best to describe it with broad strokes and within the parameters of a pattern.

Pattern: we spend our time talking, sharing, laughing, eating, drinking and barely sleeping. We do all of these activities well, really well. Unfortunately, the pattern has its weak spots and through these cracks in the mortar, old and flawed patterns from the time we spent together as kids seep in.

Old and flawed pattern: I mother him and give. He is aloof and takes.

This old pattern is 20 years past its expiry, but we’ve still taken several gulps from it before being able to confirm that it’s rotten.

In addition to this, Duke and I are in different head spaces when it comes to our readiness for a relationship. As I approach the seven-year mark of being on my own, I’m ready to dive in and build a life with someone. Duke is just not there; his heart, still wounded from a recent break-up, won’t be let itself be deceived by the “illusion of love”.

Needless to say, Duke and I won’t be spending any more time together. As friends, yes, but we’ll no longer linger in the space that fills the gap between that of friend and that of something more.

Getting back to the bigger pattern of my trips to Toronto – before leaving I usually pick up another Americano, hit the road and spend the time between Toronto and St. Catharines over-analyzing the last 24 hours. Thankfully, this time there was a slight variation. I was listening to Adele when her song Best for Last came on; I was struck with how it did all the analysis for me. Here are the lyrics and a video of Adele performing the song live. If you’ve read this far, Adele’s contribution to this blog entry is by far the best part.

  Best For Last

Wait, do you see my heart on my sleeve?
It’s been there for days on end and
It’s been waiting for you to open up
yours too baby, come on now
I’m trying to tell you just how
I’d like to hear the words roll out of your mouth finally
Say that it’s always been me

That’s made you feel a way you’ve never felt before
And I’m all you need and that you never want more
Then you’d say all of the right things without a clue
But you’d save the best for last
Like I’m the one for you

You should know that you’re just a temporary fix
This is not rooted with you it don’t mean that much to me
You’re just a filler in the space that happened to be free
How dare you think you’d get away with trying to play me

Why is it every time I think I’ve tried my hardest
It turns out it ain’t enough, you’re still not mentioning love
What am I supposed to do to make you want me properly?
I’m taking these chances and getting nowhere
And though I’m trying my hardest you go back to her
And I think that I know things may never change
I’m still hoping one day I might hear you say

I make you feel a way you’ve never felt before
And I’m all you need and that you never want more
Then you’d say all of the right things without a clue
But you’d save the best for last
Like I’m the one for you

You should know that you’re just a temporary fix
This is not rooted with you it don’t mean that much to me
You’re just a filler in the space that happened to be free
How dare you think you’d get away with trying to play me

But, despite the truth that I know
I find it hard to let go and give up on you
Seems I love the things you do
Like the meaner you treat me more eager I am
To persist with this heartbreak, running around
And I will do until I find myself with you

And make you feel a way you’ve never felt before
And I’m all you need and that you never want more
And we’ll say all of the right things without a clue
And you’ll be the one for me and me the one for you

Training Log and Observations – Bummed Knee and Angel No More

Monday: Workout at St. Catharines Amateur Boxing Club

Tuesday: Workout at St. Catharines Amateur Boxing Club

Wednesday: DAY OFF

Thursday: Workout at St. Catharines Amateur Boxing Club

Friday: BUMMED KNEE

Saturday: BUMMED KNEE

Sunday: BUMMED KNEE

This week was a great introduction to the St. Catharines Amateur Boxing Club. I managed to get there three times and each night left feeling invigorated; the workouts were fantastic, the people were friendly and the feeling I got from being in an environment of like-minded people hungry for a fight, a chance at something great, is hard to describe.

I also had a chance to briefly work the mitts with Dave Morris; Dave was Billy “The Kid” Irwin’s trainer. It was a great learning experience. The way Dave broke it all down, the positioning of your feet, your stance, where to place your weight as you throw and how you should throw your punches, was so organic and just made sense. Unfortunately, I’ve been doing all of those things incorrectly and too “book-like”. Dave told me that what he showed me were basic things I’d need to know if I were going to “really” fight. Our mini-lesson ended with him sending me to work on a combination (a one-two, left hook, and cross) that would keep me honest.

I also managed to make a friend at the Club. His name is Hash and thankfully he wasn’t afraid to talk to the sweaty old lady who just joined the Club. Hash is a newbie too and this feeling of being welcomed but still on the outside looking in made it easy for us to strike up a conversation. I had to laugh when he was eyeballing my forearms and finally asked me if I had a cat. Side Note: my arms are all scratched up from my day job as a gardener/landscaper. Even though it was our second conversation, I could help but cackle and say that if I did have a cat, it would have to fucking hate me to do that kind of damage to my arms. Thankfully, Hash laughed too and agreed that would be a whole lot of hate for a feline to have.

The downside of the week was that by Thursday evening my left knee was swollen in two spots and I could barely bend it. Gail suggested that I should go down the stairs on my bottom and try to get a tricep workout out of it. By Friday morning my knee was still on the fritz and I ended up calling in to work saying that I just couldn’t do it. Friday was spent on my butt, with my knee elevated and iced. By Saturday, my knee had slightly improved, but not enough to go back into the trenches (aka garden beds). By today, I had a better knee, but no job. I resigned from Garden Angels; I am an Angel no more. I realized that the wear and tear of being on my knees, the constant bending and then being crammed into the back of a cab of a truck, was counter-productive to one of my goals for this year; to train and have an amateur fight. I can’t really succeed without my old lady knees, they suck and I have to course correct to contend with this constraint.

I hope to be a honourary Angel by continuing to be contact with the crew, walking in the Relay for Life with the Angels on our team Sheryl`s Angels and by being the occasional highlight in their days when I show up on a site with coffee and goodies.

Pictures of the Week

On Saturday, the girls had their cadet inspection (aka another photo-op)

After a couple hundred drinks, the knee (and other parts of me) were sufficiently numb and the Ts couldn't help Rockin' Their Bodies

Training Log and Observations – Plugged In

Monday: DAY OFF

Tuesday: “MUSHIN” with Wayne, Hatha Yoga

Wednesday: “MUSHIN” with Wayne

Thursday: Officially Joined the St. Catharines Amateur Boxing Club

Friday: Cutting 17 lawns in 6 hours

Saturday: DAY OFF

Sunday: DAY OFF

In just about every way, April has been the toughest month for me since starting my sabbatical: I barely worked out; I never meditated; I lost my enthusiasm for and desire to fight; and felt disconnected to myself and, by extension, to all those around me.

Despite the sour flavour of the month, I managed to stumble upon some tasty morsels and thankfully they left their sweet and spicy tang for me to savour and remember:

-Now I’m more concerned with how I live my life as opposed to what I do for a living; lately I’m less interested in a career and more interested in truly living a life that aligns itself with my values. Maybe it’s time to construct a new paradigm in which what I do is the glue that binds the infrastructure of a life lived and loved intentionally as opposed to being the support beams of said infrastructure.

-I have a new appreciation for the true working class; it is almost impossible to live off of minimum wage and the grueling nature of the work makes the meagre compensation that much more unjust.

-I’ve changed (I think for the better) and I need to be true to the version 2.0 of who I am. When I’m with people who knew Tracey 1.0, I need to be careful to not fall into a bugged behavioural pattern that never served me well; one that was rooted in the fear of rejection and whose objective was to establish my worth through acceptance. In Tracey 2.0, self-worth is the operating system.

-After my fight, I want to continue my growth and learning, but through a new medium. I’m thinking yoga. I figure the learning I’d acquire through a yoga instructor’s program would temper the lessons I’m learning in my boxing training as well as the lessons I will learn in the ring.

-I think it’s time to fall off my wallet and go to Thailand to train. This year is a gift and to not travel, even for a short amount of time, would be so wrong given how much I love travelling.

-On a lighter note, I love the feeling I get when I realize how strong I’ve become. For 10 minutes after breaking a shovel at work while trying to dig out a tree, I walked that lawn with a strut. Yes, I’m a muscle-head and I kind of like it.

As April came to its end, I had enough of sailing through time without a rudder. So, I stepped up and once again took control. I plugged back it and started to act. Despite my end of the day fatigue, I started to work out again and I joined the St. Catharines Amateur Boxing Club. Joe, the manager of the club, is pumped to have some “white-collar” fights. I guess crowds come out to watch regular folks who are trying to be amateur fighters. Who cares what you call it, one day, I will have that fight!

I’m not gonna lie. The honeymoon is over. After a month of working as a landscaper/gardener, my body is hurtin’. The 8-1o hour days of tough manual labour are totally kicking my ass. I still love the dump and feel tough wearing my work boots, but at the end of the day my knees are killing me and, with all of the cold weather, my ass is chilled to the bone.

I’m not throwing in the towel though, not yet. I keep hoping that spring will FINALLY arrive and that working in the sun , not the rain, will make working my ass off that much more bearable. I’ve also been promoted to lawn cutting so my old lady knees will occasionally get a much-needed break and I’ll be getting a damn good cardio workout.

This past Monday was a particularly miserable day and we worked a gruelling 9 hour shift freezing our asses off in the mud. As soon as I walked into Hen House, I asked Hannah to take pictures of me to capture my fucking miserable state of being.  The shots are pretty funny….

Mid-morning I caught myself thinking that I needed a job that paid more, wasn't so hard on my knees and demanded less time of me so that I could devote my non-work hours to working out. It was then that it hit me - I left a job that paid A LOT more, was easy on the knees and demanded less time of me! As Ronnie (one of my colleagues whom I adore) would say, "What an epic FAIL!"

Are you shitting me?!