Boxing fit

A month ago, the prospect of running 26.2 miles looked bleak writes Will Davies. I hadn’t trained for over six weeks due to a torn hamstring, and had just returned from South Africa boasting a bloated belly full of beer and steak. Having run in the race before, I knew by mid-January I should be pushing 10 miles – but the reality was a three-mile hobble at best.
Then along came an olive branch in the form of a Cannons gym membership, complete with one-on-one sessions with a personal instructor. The timing couldn’t have been better.
Out trainer, Jayson, has been full of the best advice: stretches, diet (cut out beer completely), and easing me into an area I have always thought mind-numbingly boring: weights. Weights are, and always will be dire, but Jayson diligently explained to me their virtue and I have found myself following his advice and enjoying the effects. My hamstring already feels stronger and I am now running a decent 12kmph on the treadmill.

As necessary as it is, gym work is by nature boring, and I can only stomach the hamster-wheel monotony of the treadmill thanks to the line up of flat screens offering various televisual treats. Boxing, on the other hand, is brilliant fitness, bloody good fun, and there’s no better way to vent your anger. Half an hour on the pads with Jayson and I had revived muscles I never knew I had. And although I nearly knocked his block off several times thanks to my appalling technique, we are scheduled in once a week to compliment the long-distance runs now pushing double figures. There is only one area where Jayson has failed miserably. Sorry mate, but I’m not giving up the ale.