I swear I’ve never been so obsessed with my own weight since I started to box. If I go offshore I’ll probably weigh myself before the trip and then after the trip. And then when I go home, I’ll probably never even look at the scales but now, I’m weighing myself every day or every other day. I mean, I don’t even box competitively so there’s absolutely no reason why I need to stay within a certain weight bracket just yet.
…And yet… here I am weighing myself every other day, after I go to the toilet (maybe too much information there!)… it’s ridiculous. Maybe because I’ve got it into my head that I don’t want to be above middleweight. I mean can you blame me though? Some of those guys above that weight are big. You’re also talking about men that don’t have much body fat either. It’s almost all muscle.
I’m reading this interesting book just now: Journeymen – The other side of the boxing business. It’s about the less glamorous side of the UK boxing scene. It’s quite an eye opener. These journeymen are like the poker grinders of the boxing world. They fight a few times a month and are often pitted against younger, popular fighters that can sell tickets at venues. Some of their records are terrible but it’s a mistake to think they can’t box. They know a lot of tricks and their defence is good. It has to be. If a journeyman boxer is cut then the officials will forbid that guy from fighting X number of days and therefore, no income to feed your family. Journeymen boxers can get called up last minute to fill in a spot and they often fight in more than one weight bracket in order to pick up more work. A guy can fight at one weight, one week and then a few days later he’ll bulk up to make the weight for another fight and then come back down weight again for the next. It takes a lot of discipline to do that. It’s a really good book. I’m about halfway through it.
Talking about weight and eating, I’m trying to use up everything inside my freezer so yesterday was a food scrounge. Managed to make a vegetarian curry out of the pepper, cauliflower and potato and I also made this lemon loaf cake with some lemons I found because… well… a house is always happier when there’s some kind of cake to eat. It’s good for the soul.
Went for a run to clear my head. Poppy’s mending but she can’t walk long distance yet. I do miss those walks so I ran the route instead. Nothing crazy. I don’t time myself – it’s about 5 – 6 songs. Maybe that’s around 20 minutes – probably equates to around 4 km.
That 10,000 hours thing…
I plan on doing some training later today. I had some self doubting and self loathing yesterday when I suddenly thought what if I’m no good, what if I’m just looking stupid? Have you ever seen that statistic that says it takes something like 10,000 hours to become good at something?
I tried to work it out:
If I go offshore, I spend 2.5 hrs a day training for 35 days = 87.5 hrs
I spend half a year offshore so that’s 6 (trips) x 87.5 = 525 hrs
When I’m at home I’ll train maybe a quarter of that 525 / 4 = 131 hrs
So at that rate of training… 10000 / (525+131) = 15 years
15 years to become good. (Someone should check my math)
I’ve well and truly lost that window. Ideally I’d want to start at 11 years old and hit my peak at 26 years of age. That’s if you believe that 10,000-hour statistic.
I can’t just give up though. I’m not going to be chump change for anyone. I have to be able to hold my own in a ring. Maybe that’s all this is. Some kind of pride thing. I’m not sure anymore.