Fighting at 40

It's been 6 years since (2008) I have stepped into the ring for a fight, not counting friendly sparring at the gym.  As the months are rushing by, especially the last few weeks as a crunched camp for a possible fight on April 12th, I'm learning that 6 years makes a huge difference in the way I approach training.  6 years ago, I didn't hesitate to step into the ring - I wasn't scared, I was excited, injuries didn't seem to be part of my world.  But I had only been training for just over a year before my first fight in Montreal, and I took that fight on 2 weeks notice.  No problem!  The following summer, my first time at the TBA-SA Iowa tournament, I was still quite inexperienced - not even 2 years of training.  I was in my early 30's, but that didn't phase me at all.  I admit, I had control issues - I had no idea of my own strength at that point in time (and still struggle with this), my temper was no way under the control it is today, and I was more likely to bull forward in the ring than stop and think.  Training to fight was still an emotional and mental challenge - the fear of failure, of letting people who have supported you down, the weight loss that requires a lot of sacrifice and often sends you into a meltdowns that are due to a lack of carbs.  That part of the game never goes away.  But it seems to play a bigger role.

Fast forward 6 years and I'm finding that the approach to a fight is very different.  I've been training for 8 years.  I'm more experienced and have trained at many different gyms in Thailand.  I *think* I'm more patient (although the verdict on that is still out on that one!).  I know that my temper is much more controlled and I don't have the anger issues that I used to have.  I'm certainly more mature.  I have more in my arsenal to pull from when in the middle of a battle.  But experience is apparently a double-edged sword.  For one, it means that I think more than I used to.  Most of the time, thinking isn't a bad thing.  But when it takes precedent over acting on instinct and muscle memory, it is a problem.  I'm more likely to stop while training and think about the next move, rather than simply reacting.  This has been the hardest hurdle for me to get over in the last few months.

The reality is that I'm almost 40 as well.  Muay Thai is a young person's sport - I'll most likely be stepping into the ring with someone half my age.  It's not a huge issue, but it is something I think of.  I cannot be as fast as I was 6 years ago.  But I can be smarter, use my experience, and this is what I am hoping to rely on.  

There is also the perceived idea that there is more at stake - not doing my best, failing, losing, looking like an idiot, having a crappy day training, not hitting a weight goal each week - these things all play heavily on my mind.  I am more conscious of the fact that I am investing a lot of time in this, sometimes with other parts of my life taking a bit of a hit, and my Ajarn is investing a lot of time in this, the close friends/training partners who are expending energy training with me are investing a lot of time in this.  I do not like the idea that I may let him or myself down.  As I say, perceived, in my own little pea-brain, because I know that as long as I do my best, no one is going to be disappointed in me.  If I don't give my 100% and slack off, then I deserve to be talked to and told to step it up.  Part of the reality is that I am training with people I am much closer to, personally, than I was 6 years ago, people whose opinion of me I value more than any other.  Closer relationships means a greater fear of letting someone down, even in training.  Having a crappy couple of days at work gets reflected in my training - I'm not as focused, lacking vital energy, and reach the point of frustration faster than normal.  I'm getting better at leaving work at work and focus only on training at the gym, but I'm not perfect.  The inability to grasp a concept immediately, to be told again and again to do something but still fail to do so is gut-wrenching at times. Having a bad day in the ring, training or fighting, is such an emotionally-draining experience.  The key is to NOT have a bad day, but hey, shit happens.
 
So I think this is the big difference.  It means more now.  I think the emotional involvement is deeper.  I'm not afraid of fighting.  I'm not afraid of being punched in the face.  I am afraid of having someone say "what the fuck are you doing?  you're 40 years old!  you're not up to this any more!".  Part of me expects to hear "You're not going to be ready.  You're not good enough.".  That's the snark speaking and I push it to the back of my mind.  I will be ready, I am strong, I need to be smarter in the ring than maybe I currently am, but I have the best support and coaching I could ever ask for and I take strength in the fact that if someone is willing to invest their time in me, they probably aren't crazy in doing so and believe I can do it.  So I should too.

I find making the switch from professional scientist to fighter (can I really even say that?  I feel like a fraud saying that) a bit strange some days.  If I think about it, that is.  Some days I do, some days I don't - it depends on what has gone on at work, how professionally successful I am feeling, how confident I am in my own skin as a mineralogist.  The days that I feel successful, confident, and that I have contributed to my chosen research area are the ones where I tend to be a bit shocked, maybe disbelieving, at the two extremes in my day-to-day life but feel confident about my training, drawing strength in the fact that I am more multi-faceted and balanced than most academics.  The days where I feel like a fraud in my professional career are likely the days I will feel like a fraud in the ring, trying to pass myself off as a fighter.  Moving from work, where thinking is my job, to training, where thinking gets me into trouble, is also an interesting challenge.  I think my co-workers are a mixture of curious and disturbed by my "hobby". 

Back to reality

I find it amazing how quickly one falls back into routine after being away.  One day, I'm sitting on a beach in +35 deg C weather, attempting to relax, with no more worries than what to have for supper that evening - squid, fish or praws - and the next thing you know, I'm sitting in my office at work, staring at the chaos on my desk of draft manuscripts, journal articles, random bits of paper with scribbled bits of data that I will never, ever begin to understand what they were supposed to mean, coffee cups that were not empty when I left and therefore are harboring their own colony of new lifeforms, and wondering how it can be so cold inside a building.  From +35 deg C one day to -25 deg C the next.  It's a bit of a shock to the system, but it does amaze me at how quickly the transition happens.  Aside from jet lag, a large pile of laundry, the beginnings of the post-trip sinus infection and a very nice tan, there is no transition - it's as if February ceased to exist, a dream, and I'm picking up where I left off on January 21st.  I'm not sure this is a good thing. 

Being back at work, I find I'm not overly eager to delve back into the social side of things - coffee breaks or lunch in the cafeteria.  I'm not certain I am as of yet ready to be asked the question "how was the trip?" and be probed for information.  I suspect part of this is my chosen new method of dealing with my work versus personal world - the less information shared, the better.  The gossip mill here is rampant; a number of times in the last year I've had information said in confidence to someone come back to me via another source.  My attempt at positive thinking also requires protecting myself from such garbage.