Well I had an epically emotional weekend. No idea why but I got utterly blind sided by a bout of the blues that had in me an oubliette of my own making, stuck listening to the voices in my head and not even able to blame the goblin king for my troubles. I won’t go into details but in short I’d have been carted off to Arkham Asylum if any one with any sense had seen me. Fortunately only a few close friends witnessed even a small proportion of it. The reason I’m telling you this is because today has just got better and better and the reason? Violence. Sort of.
My alarm went of at 5:15 and in my still somewhat melancholy state I decided f*ck it and went back to sleep for an hour, so I had to drive in to make it to the gym. But I did make it. And I had a really good weights session which put me in a better frame of mind.
After work I had more exciting new violence and attending a boxing class at Leicester Shootfighters. It was great going back to fundamentals and obviously boxing has slightly different techniques to a lot of kickboxing, whilst on very similar lines. I felt more in familiar territory but learned a lot. I think it will be a good compliment to the way I fight light con now, with Danny training me to press on my opponent and harry them constantly. We even had a few rounds of sparring at the end, nice and light and the guys kept apologising when they caught me in the face, which was super polite but no doubt they will realise what I’m actually like soon and stop. I might eventually stop bowing to everyone too, they must think I’m a little odd.
Then I dashed home, changed into shiny pants and headed for kickboxing. EFK is my second home and I enjoy training with Georgia, we didn’t for a long time when she switched to points, but she’s a good partner. It was a tough lesson, pushing fitness, which I need quite honestly. I also got our team physio the lovely Craig to check my recurring foot problem out. ‘It hurts around there’ ‘what here where the obvious bruising and swelling is?’ Umm, yeah ok, I’m so used to my feet just being gross and a mess I hadn’t even noticed it. Probably just bruised, WCS slightly chipped bone, ice it, didn’t even bother advising rest because we never do, but it’s reassuring that he’s not worried about it. I can now happily train on a painful and sore foot without worrying I am doing myself a serious mischief. Not that I wasn’t going to anyway.
Needless to say having had all the violence I am now much much happier and feeling altogether back to my natural equilibrium. The smell of worn boxing gloves and the feel on jigsaw mats is strangely soothing and good for the soul.