“Thanks. I appreciate it, man.” I wipe the sweat from my brow and look at the clock behind Tyler. We’ve been here for over an hour, but we’re just getting started. Once Tyler finishes his water, he slips his gloves back on, and so do I.
“Let’s work on technique. Since legs and feet aren’t illegal to use, anything pretty much goes. So, head, elbows, knees, and any other body part you can cause damage with is fair game.” Tyler moves his body around showing different maneuvers against one of the dummies, then asks me to do the same. Keeping my body tight, I stay light on my feet as Tyler calls out what to do. I use all the strength in my quads to kick forward, and the dummy falls to the floor with a thud.
“Damn, that was good,” Tyler says, picking it up and setting it in place. After I work on that for a while, he instructs me to take off my gloves and pulls the tape from his bag, then helps me wrap my hands the proper way to protect my knuckles. Once I’m set, he puts on some leather boxing punching mitts. “Now, let’s focus on speed and output instead of power. Basic punches right in the center.”
He flips the mitts around, and I see two white circles where I need to hit. “Keep your hands high, and after each set, you’ll do a squat and increase two more punches until you’re swinging twenty times in a row. It’s a basic boxing drill to help with fast, consistent hand speed and endurance. We’ll go for two minutes, counting your reps, break for five, then start at the top. We’ll do this for the next hour.”
I chuckle. “You’re gonna wear me out before eight o’clock.”
“You better believe it,” he throws back. “It’s gonna be exhausting, but you need to get your momentum up before we get to the hard stuff. Don’t let your hands fall, and make sure you’re supporting your weight on your hips. The squat helps re-center yourself. Ready?”
I nod and step up, taking a deep breath. As I start, Tyler calls out how many throws I need to do. At first, I’m fast, and it feels easy, but when I have twenty seconds left, I’m ready to give up. However, I keep going even though it feels like my hands and arms will fall off.
“Faster,” Tyler calls out when there are only ten seconds to go. I find my second wind when he lets his mitts fall. “Good job.”
I place my hands over my head and try to breathe for a few minutes, sweat dripping down my face. “Fuck, that’s harder than I thought.”
“Right? Two minutes seems easy until you get going. How are your knuckles?”
Flipping my hands over, I show him. Fingers are red, but there’s no busted skin. I’ve made sure to keep my fingers in the correct position so I don’t break them before the fight.
“They say Bruce Lee used to punch metal to strengthen his knuckles,” Tyler tells me as I grab another bottle of water.
“Oh yeah? Is that tomorrow’s drill?” I mock.
Tyler snickers. “Don’t tempt me. When I was in the military, I used brick walls to condition my hands for fighting. That’s going to be your homework. Also, break’s over. Let’s go again.”
I let out a laugh before Tyler starts the timer, and then I begin again. We keep doing reps with breaks between. For the next hour, we continue techniques, but he doesn’t let me rest for long. Next, he has me working on more drills, leg kicks, and blocking. After three hours of working, I’m ready to pass the fuck out and beg for an oxygen line. My arms and legs feel like jelly, and I can already tell I’m going to be sore as hell tomorrow. Groaning, I lean against the wall with my palms on my knees, panting. Tyler laughs, looking like he hardly broke a damn sweat, and I stand, rolling my eyes at him.
“I went easy on you today,” he tells me as he stuffs the mitts back into his bag.
“Easy, my ass,” I say, my heart still racing.
He slaps me on the back. “It’s just going to get harder from here, so you need to stay focused and highly motivated. You don’t have time to slack off. I need you on your A game if I’m going to properly train you.”
Moving my head from side to side, I crack my neck. Every part of me literally feels stiff. “And how would you suggest I do that?”
“My first suggestion: staying celibate.”
I glance at him and chuckle, but his expression doesn’t change. “Wait, you’re serious,” I deadpan.
He nods. “I am. No sex means you’ll have pent-up aggression, and it’ll motivate you even more to win. You’re fighting so you and Maddie can have a life together. It’s a mental technique, but it works. Famous boxers and UFC fighters stay celibate before a big fight to keep themselves focused.”