It’s been way too long since my last blog due to work, visitors, sickness and other bullshit excuses I could list here if I thought anyone would actually believe them. Anyway, i’ve been a little lapse, but back to normal from now!

Wednesday 10th was the training session where Alexis was unavailable due to his crook catching real job, so Andy ran the session. Andy told me to make sure I made my blog sound brilliant, but to be perfectly honest I don’t really remember much of it, except for the fact it was all bag and shadow work, and was really knackering, with piles of bodies everywhere at the end. I do remember it being a good session though Andy, so thanks mate, you’re brilliant.

Saturday was another early start, with training starting at Turf City at 8am. Given that I am still experimenting with my Saturday pre-workout nutrition, I decided to try the holistic approach, and dream of bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns, beans and black pudding instead of actually having anything to eat. This experimental approach meant that I had an extra 15-30 minutes sleep and woke up full. Well, that was the theory anyway, I ended up dreaming of crashing a car or punching a dog or something non-appetizing, and woke up late having turned the stupid noisy alarm clock off.

I drove eight billion miles an hour, and just about made it on time…. The truth of the matter is that my ladies Hyundai Getz rarely tops 60 before starting to rattle, but if I could drive at eight billion miles an hour, it would be dead handy, as i’d get there in under a micro-second. The downside is that i’d probably feel sick, as the G-Force at that speed would explode my head, which wouldn’t be good.

Alexis sent us off for a short run while he woke up with his cappuccino and Danish, so we went for a loop of Turf City, which is about 2km. I had my shiny new trainers on – the ones with the fast twitch springy bits – and was like a speed machine. I ran so fast at one point, that I overtook my shadow. Here is a picture of them before the run. FYI, you can also see the 8 gallon capacity socks here and some damn finely toned pins.

The picture of them after the run got ruined by the flumes of smoke from the trail of fire I left in my path.

When we got back, we did some shadow boxing. Four rounds of two minutes, and I was like lightening! I was so fast, that I actually knocked my shadow wonky! These new trainers are like magic! They make me so fast, i’m actually considering handbag snatching as an alternative career.

After the lightening fast shadow boxing, Alexis split us into four groups. I was put into the special group, of just Michelle and I, called the “pathetic attempt of a man and Michelle” group. We took it in turns to try and box the head of each other while the other tried to block. Jab. Jab, cross. Jab, cross, duck, cross. I practiced my floating like a butterfly in between, but had the prowess of a bouncy hippo with a prosthetic leg (not that I am discriminating against hippos with prosthetics).

After this we spent some time trying to beat the shit out of the big heavy bags. Actually, they are stuffed with clothes, and every now and again nice clothes come out and I wear them home. Not only does this give one the incentive to punch harder, but the excitement of what prize might jump out keeps you going.

The final part of this particular circuit was pad work with the big fella himself. I think this is my favourite part, as it takes more skill that punching a clothes bag. The downside, however, is if you punch the pad wrong, because the fecking pain that goes up your arm is comparable to being struck by lightening on the finger. Not that I know what that is like, but being kicked right up the hole wasn’t a good comparison.

When we had finished these circuits, Alexis realised his watch was on upside down, and that we had time left. He ran off and smoked some pot and came back with a brand new exercise. He tied two lots of hand wraps together, and held them at shoulder height for us to duck under and punch to practise our footwork. We would step under it left, and cross with our right, and then step under it right and punch with our left. This exercise will be really useful if we ever get into a fight on a boat at sea, but I’m not really sure there’ll be much use for it on the fight night! As you can probably guess from my disdain, I was really, really shit at this. I think all the jeering at my two left feet didn’t help, plus the fact that Bruce said I looked like an orange on a toothpick (due to my oversized head and skinny frame). I wasn’t quite as crap as oversized Bruce, who given his lanky mass ended up bobbing like a chicken. Thomas was quite good at this exercise, but then he’s used to going down on things suspended between two men.

The quote of the week, which slightly misplaced here, came from Bruce to me when we were standing in line to make fools of ourselves. “3.5 times the circumference of your head is apparently the same as your height, so you should be 7 foot 5″. I do have a large head, I know….

We did circuits after this, which was 20 reps of pushup, squats, crunches and mountain climbers… no f*cking burpees!!!!! We did two sets of these.

The final exercise was the twirly plank – 2 sets of 10 twirlys. Normal plank position, then twist your arm into the air, so your body is perpendicular to the floor, and twist it around underneath your armpit on the floor. Yes, I have described it as ponsily as it is for good reason, as it’s like watching a bloody room full of ballerinas!

The good thing was that I did all of this on an empty stomach… I’m not sure what the nutritional nuts would say about that, but in previous weeks, i’ve been close to vomiting all over the place due to meal replacements or oatmeal! Maybe attempting to dream of food instead is a better plan? I do know one thing for sure, I emptied the bloody fridge when I got home, so what I lacked in vomit, I made up for in binge eating!

So, fight name… Long story, but during my last campaign for the October 2009 White Collar Boxing competition I chose “The Pikey”…. You’ll surely recall the pikey from Snatch.

Now, I know Brad does look scarily like me, and his body is nearly as finely tuned as mine, but that’s not the reason I’ve gone for “The Pikey”. I got called a pikey because I went on a caravan holiday to Spain once, and i’ve kind of been known as a pikey ever since in certain circles. Being of Irish descent, there are a few questionable family members on my mothers side, but I don’t think spending the week in a caravan in Costa Del Sol really counts, does it? Yes, I did urinate into a plastic pot that flushed blue just behind the headboard of the bed that used to be my sofa – What’s wrong with that?? And there’s nothing wrong with wearing your boxer shorts into a public shower to give them an old rinse after you’ve worn them for 4 days! The truth of it is that I don’t really know why I was ever called a pikey, but it has kind of stuck.

Anyway, fight name is The Pikey. Don’t, however, let the plot of that film confuse you. The Pikey might have gone down on Snatch, but this pikey has never gone down and intends to keep it that way.