Up at stupid o’clock after a rubbish nights sleep where I dreamt that on the night of the White Collar event, I have a posh dinner in the ring instead of fighting. A table to ten people, including my opponent, sit there eating posh nosh. Him and I however, are having issues eating this fine feast, as we are still wearing our gloves and headguard. I am weird!!!

I had a Wild Strawberry meal replacement drink for breakfast, which although a refreshing new flavour (as opposed to the vanilla reverse-vomit flavour) was a little hard to stomach at 7am. I really need to stick with oatmeal, but that means getting up even earlier to make sure it settles before training starts…. I also need to do further research into how detrimental a bacon sandwich would be instead of a bloody milkshake wannabe.

We started off with another me-led run, which was luckily familar to Alistair, so the pressure was off me having to remain up front. We went out the opposite way this time, the other way around the old racecourse, where we passed a billion kids all playing soccer and stuff. We ended up going through the gap in the fence again, the same as last week, to the spot with all the horse shit and ceramic toilet bowls (yes, random!) and then back to the gym where Alexis was waiting for us outside.

Next up was some sprint work which i’m really crap at. Apparently sprinters benefit from the fast twitch muscles in their thighs that are developed over years of training. Well, I have slow twitch muscles that have been developed over years of doing absolutely bugger all. We started off with sprint relays in two teams, which my team lost. Then we moved onto a second relay, where we had to sprint out and back 4 times each, with Alexis moving back between each one. It was hard enough doing the sprinting without the road we were sprinting on being as slippery as a greased up fish wearing a slippy coat. Two lots of relays, and my team lost both. No, it is no coincidence that I was in the twice losing team because like I have already said, I am shite at sprinting due to my slow twitch muscles. (FYI, i’m writing this on Sunday, and have just bought some fast twitch trainers that should counterbalance my rubbishness). We were all wrecked after this session, as besides nearly dying with sprints, the heat was mad! And it still wasn’t 9am!

We went back into the gym for circuit work, and a gallon of water each. The circuits consisted of one-handed pushups, which I do have to say are up there in the stupid top-10. Rocky did these in most of his movies, but they were bloody movies! Real people don’t do one handed pushups as they are pointless! Logic would tell you that doing twice as many means both arms are getting the same workout. I have serious concerns that my body might end up lopsided if I continue to do too many of these, like a monkey with a preferred swinging arm or a yob with a preferred vandalism arm. So, there we were, doing one armed pushups. Thomas (the porn star) seemed surprisingly good at these, but then the combination of his plastic surgery and his day job of having to get into bizarre positions probably helped him. I ended up looking like a bloody starfish, and nearly broke my nose when I collapsed on my head after about four of the feckers. Other than pressups, we also did a round of dumbell bendy twisty things, which I was really impressed to hear someone else call them, once again proving that I should write my own dictionary. The final station of our circuit was one legged lunges, which also sound bloody stupid and pointless, but whilst doing them I realised that if I was ever in an arse kicking contest, i’d be the clear winner for having done this exercise! We did three sets of these bizarre exercises whilst Alexis smoked more pot to dream up some more silly exercises.

Next up was shadow boxing for 3 lots of 2 minutes. Shadow boxing is quite weird, as you always feel like a bit of a tit when doing it. I know it is a complete necessity, and I will continue to take it seriously as part of my training, but as my blog is a “thinking out loud and re-inforcing my stupidity to the world” then I need to get this of my ever expanding chest. Shadow boxing is where you stand in front of a mirror, and pretend you’re fighting an opponent. It is something the brilliant Ali did countless hours of proving that it is vital to training. However, when you’re crap and probably not doing it right, it’s hard not to look around to see if anyone is watching you looking like the pissed uncle dancing at the wedding! I need to start doing more shadow boxing, as it’s something I feel I haven’t done enough of this time around.

Next up was that stupid exercise Tommy Porn Man invented and brought to Alexis last Wednesday. The plank-into-pushup position-times-20 exercise, and Alexis made me count out loud for all the class to follow! Brilliant… Not only do I hate this exercise more than I hate piles, I had to keep going whilst shouting numbers! After two sets of this, the wonderful carpet at Turf City had left me with porn star elbows covered in carpet burns! Thomas wasn’t phased, as this is his day job.

A good hard anaerobic workout, and very enjoyable as always.

On the way in before training, I bumped into Alexis who told me he is representing the Youth Olympic Games at the Singapore Air Show later on that day showcasing boxing….. He went on to tell me how much he loves boxing so much and wants Vanda to be the fittest and the best school in Asia… All I can say is that with the passion, committment and drive he never fails to show, I’ve got no doubt that one day he will achieve his dream. What a top man!

My thought for the week is around my efforts to save the planet, or at least do my bit. Working out fifty-eight times a week takes its toll on the training clothes front, and to avoid having to buy another washing machine to keep up, I’m wearing all of my clothes twice. Now, this may appear disgusting, and I was asked by our Scottish-Australian colleague (yes, we’ve got all sorts!!) if I had multiples of the distinct t-shirt I was wearing (I had to tell him the re-wear story) but I’m trying to avoid too much washing so I can stop the ozone ballsing up the earth and killing the polar bears because I like the big white fluffy buggers, even though they serve no purpose other than to define what white really is in the context of animal whitey-ness. I’ve been to many a hotel that tells me to “throw the towels down the toilet if they should be washed, or hang them up neat and tidy if I’m a tree-hugger” (not that I do this with my gym gear) but I’ve taken heed to that message and am doing my bit to save the dolphins choking on coke bottles and all that. Just to clarify your probable belief that I am a smelly bastard, and that on second-wear during a burpee-a-thon that I might get the occasional whiff of myself which makes me want to vomit meal-replacement everywhere, but I’m blessed with non-smelly sweat which means I have no body odour issues. I know this may sound like a load of old codswallop, but it’s true and I’ll happily let anyone have a good old sniff should they wish to try and call me a smelly fecker.

The jury is out on whether I should go for a third, or even fourth wear, so I’ll stick with two for now. In the meantime, let’s all do our bit fellow boxers. Wear everything as many times as possible, especially at turf city where skunks could pole-dance in each corner unnoticed, and help me save those big white feckers from ex-stink-tion.