A day or two ago, I nearly peed the bed. Half dozing off, a friend messaged me. I was at the point just at the edge of the cliff where you drop into the deep of sleep but still conscious, the eyes drooping but the brain caught between two states. She text me to say that her neighbour had popped round to complain about her cat fighting with the neighbour's cat. This I'm sure is quite upsetting, for you both, I exclaimed. Apparently so, especially as my friend had to take the 'blame' for the incident. Hardly seems fair I thought. It was almost as if my friend was at fault for the two toms' fighting. As any moggy owner knows, you can't legislate for a tabby's behaviour, they do exactly what they want, when they want. Regardless, my friend was berated by her neighbour who quite sternly suggested that next time she saw them fighting she was instructed to throw water over her 'felis catus'. Naturally I replied by text, without too much thought, she wants you to get her feline wet? Perhaps you might appreciate why on this occasion it was permissible to laugh at my own 'Dad' joke. The texts continued...
My friend then suggested if she doused her neighbour's mouser, should it then be permissible for the neighbour to moisten her beloved kitty? You mean to say get each others' wet?
Rather innocuously I continued in my half asleep delirium, what about if they are not fighting and preening one another by licking one another's fur coats, cue more canned laughter. This dross just writes itself!
On another note, tonight was the first night of sparring after several weeks of training. I'm playing the long game here. I've decided that I'll wear each and every one of my opponents out by letting them punch me to the point of their own exhaustion, allowing me to nip in, gain as many points as I can and win by decision. Take it easy Dan said, (the trainer), you're not trying to knock each other's blocks off Dan said, keep the power down Dan said. Somebody didn't quite get the memo. Body shot after bloody body shot because one of my opponents didn't get a gum shield. My ribs are bruised, I'm sure he thought the idea was to cave my solar plexus in. Keep your guard up, I did, but my nose kept poking out from behind my gloves so it received the odd 'bop' or two. When I did go on the offensive I got hit by a stray left, oh and of course a stray right too, so my forehead is grazed where I cushioned my opponent's gloves with my face and my right eye is a tad swollen underneath, this was the point when I'd asked my sparring partner to just apply a little blusher. He must have thought I meant apply it to me, when I was just trying to talk trash. Well, that's what you do in boxing isn't it?
Still, I don't ache too much, my nose hasn't bled yet, I've not lost my denture yet, nor have I lost consciousness, yet. I figure boxing is a bit like 'Going on a Bear Hunt', we're not scared, what a beautiful day. Not sure whether I am brave or stupid, may be you can decide.
But before you do, just another fact for you to consider. That event I said I'd never do, because I couldn't quite get my head around it? The distance in one go, that to me still seems impossible, well low and behold, I entered the ballot for the Montane Lakes 100 next year, and only went and got in. Another moment of realisation where I then think, what have I done? Act in haste, repent at leisure. I'll have a long time to think about it on the day and of course during all the long training runs over the winter, which I enjoy so very, very, very much. Big thanks to my sister for not judging me and completing my registration. I'll repay you with a big 'finishing' medal at the end of next July...fingers crossed that is.