Training

Bob Marley wakes me up again... I'm really starting to hate that song.


I turn off my phone and slid out from under the mosquito net, into my flip-flops and stumble into the bathroom. I share my sink with an army of ants, removing the remains of a large insect the ghecko must have missed from behind the tap.

It's a hot morning, and the thai-oil I rub into my joints starts to make me hotter.

Cicadas and grasshoppers in the surrounding jungle make a high pitched buzzing/chirping sound, the new sunrise uniting them in a harmony loud enough to drown out my rustling as I find a clean pair of thai boxing shorts.


I leave Mrs G snoring under the mossie net and walk to the training area, water in one hand, electrolyte powder and ankle supports in the other. I'm almost awake.


Ot, one of our two trainers meets me at the edge of the training area, I drop my things, place my palms together and we Wai in greeting. I lean against the ring, roll my handwraps and shoot the breeze with Dan (a scottish boxer) and Patrick (a canadian mixed martial artist), then put on my trainers.

I start my run up the hill and into the jungle, past the ring, then the generators. Pon is filling one with petrol and waves at me as I jog past.

I drop down the other side of the steep ridge, past a small family dwelling with it's family of chickens, and who's dog comes firing out like a round furry missile, barking, snarling and worrying my ankles. I stop, hands up, the dog stops. I ruffle his ears, and continue up the second steep hill, onto the track that goes deeper into the jungle.

It's steep enough that when I stumble, I can catch myself by just reaching in front of me. It levels off for maybe 15 meters, then for 100 meters continues up, at maybe 45-50 degrees. I'm sweating freely now, and my breathing had become deep, hungry, lung-burning pants as I take fast mini-steps up the gradient. My legs are now burning as I follow the track round to the left, then right, still steep enough to warrant steps.

The final hurdle is ahead, where the track becomes almost vertical, and my run is now no longer cardio vascular- my legs are now on their own, burning stored energy as my lungs cannot keep up. My empty stomach tightens and the familiar nausea washes over me as I will myself to keep going.

My legs are now burning, deep inside the muscles, and I swing my arms harder. Can't stop.


I get to the summit, where it levels off to a lesser incline, and now I walk, fast as I can, sucking air in hard and fast as my legs wobble and threaten to give up on me.

The cicadas are more numerous here, almost deafening me with a high pitched whirring that is disorientating and curiously unnerving.

A lizard, maybe 3 feet long comes barreling out of the dense jungle, crosses the track in front of me, and shimmies up a tree, making it shake with it's weight.

I can hear what sounds like a monkey to my left, but I cannot see it. The jungle either side of me is a wall of green and brown, its density allowing just a few meters view inside. A huge butterfly flits past.


I turn around for a second’s breather, and through a frame of jungle I look down onto Haad Yuan bay. A cool breeze washes over me through the break in the trees. The sun is bright, and the sky a pale blue dome over a calm aqua sea. Far below, the white sand of the beach is still empty, and the backpacker bungalows are completely hidden in the palm trees behind the beach. On the right side of the bay, the land erupts out of the sea dramatically, a steep, green covered ridge, with a skirt of huge boulders and rocks. There is a scattering of wooden huts built on these rocks, connected by wooden walkways, just high enough to avoid sea when it crashes against the rocks in bad weather.


It's amazing, pristine, a view of tropical paradise with a jungle soundtrack. A brightly coloured parrot fly’s above the coconut palms below.


I turn back, and jog the rest of the way up this ridge. I run fast down the other side, and continue the run up the next steep hill, this one not as sever as the last but longer. This continues, steep uphill, slight downhill, until I've past the spring that feeds the camps water supply and ran one more hill than last time, signaling my time to turn back.

The run back is easier, as I'm descending, but more dangerous- I slip on the dirt track as I struggle to control my steep descent, hopping over tree roots, vines and rocks.

My breathing is nice and steady again by the time I jog into the training area, wash the dust from my legs and pour cold water over the back of my head. Russ (Kickboxing instructor from Birmingham) puts some training music on as I swap my trainers for ankle supports.

The others have been skipping to warm up for the last 30 minutes, and I find myself stretching off alongside Patrick in the ring.


"Wanna spar man?" He offers.

"cool!"


We stretch, constantly dripping sweat onto the canvass and I wrap my hands and wrists ready for the bag work after. Patrick and I then strap on our shin pads and boxing gloves, and after a few minuets shadow boxing, Ot jumps into the ring and faces us off.


"OK...Ready... Fight!"


Patrick and I tap gloves, and we both dance the thai boxing walk- raised fists bouncing in time with the music, heads wobbling lightly with chins tucked in, balancing our weight through the balls of our feet, front (left) legs bouncing slightly.

We circle each other, our whole bodies now in a rhythm to the music. I focus on his chin through the frame of our gloves, our left hands extended to each other slightly, our rights nearer our face, left feet forward, on the balls of our right, toes facing front.


Slap! His jab hits my gloves. I immediately counter with 2 fast jabs of my own, step right and hook at his exposed kidneys, while his hands are covering his face. My glove glances his side as he skips and throws a roundhouse kick to my left side.

I take it, blocking too late but throw a hook to his temple, PAP! It connects, upper cut, blocked, he left jabs, I catch it in my glove, his cross right, I cover (block), I slap his guard down with my left and throw a straight right, PAP! He takes it on his nose and we both step back.

He bounces his head side to side- Ok, good one mate.

He throws a head kick, I block, catch/slip his 2 jabs, cross and PAP! He lands a hook to my jaw, stiff and clean. I bounce my head this time and we share a smile.

I slip my feet, then roundhouse kick to his side. He blocks it and our shins crash together hard, pads easing the blow. I drop into guard and throw a jab, cross, hook combo; he catches the jab and swings back on his hips, slipping round my cross, hook and then PAT!- he lands a hook of his own in my side. We're close, and automatically we pull each other into the clinch. We wrestle, moving around the ring fighting for the dominant position, heads pressed close together to avoid elbows, constantly slapping knees on each others sides.


We don’t elbow in training, but considerate knee strikes are fine.


I'm pulling him down and right, opening his left for clear knee strikes, then changing as he twists away. I land a fair few, careful as I know my knee is landing on his floating rib area. I'm now panting deeply against my gloves as I struggle to keep his head down and resist his attempts to "swim through" my grip. He changes his grip slightly. I get a blocking shin between us. He pulls, I resist, we adjust grip, pull tight again. I try and hit him with another knee, he jerks, then BLAM! I'm horizontal on the canvass and he's skipped back to the corner.


Great throwdown!


I smile and nod as he steps forward to help me up, and we tap gloves again. We're keeping our distance and catching our breath, landing roundhouses and straight kicks to torso and legs, most blocked, a few punches, all blocked.

He throws a roundhouse kick to my side, I catch it, step into it and throw a downward elbow into his thigh, let go and initiate what would be a back-elbow to his head. Obviously I don’t connect, and quickly defend against a flurry of punches instead. I block, parry and slip all except for a loud PAT! to my kidneys. Again.

We share a smile, he roundhouse kicks my side, I catch again, this time kicking out his supporting leg and he hits the ring floor with a crash. He nods thoughtfully. We trade a few more blows, padded shins and gloves crashing together. My eyes are almost unfocused, aimed at his chin/chest but striving to see his body as a whole, trying to catch that shift of bodyweight, distance, opportunity and warning.


He throws a roundhouse to my side again after a flurry of blows. I catch his leg again, this time pulling him into a punch before pushing him off balance and kicking his supporting leg. We both grin. He throws a jab, cross, hook, I catch them in my gloves, then suddenly PAT! He buries another hook into my side.


We grin wider and I shake my head in mock frustration.


Times up, we tap gloves, briefly, loosely embrace with a pat on the back, and get down to discussing our strengths and weaknesses to work on.


Round two is much the same, but this time more of our blows land. I can't catch his roundhouse again. I use my elbows to block those punches to my sides. We call it quits at round three, having had great fun but aware we have pad and bag work yet to come.

I'm now sucking air in deeply, and my hands are shaking as I shadow box by the ring for a few minutes, trying to recover. My shorts are dripping sweat, and I realize I'm out of water, despite only taking tiny sips.

The cicadas have calmed down, and the sun seems fully up and more intense than usual. The fans above the ring do little against the heat and humidity.


"Andy, Come!" Deday shouts to me from the ring.

Both Ot and Deday are kitted out in belly protector, shin pads and have Thai kick-pads strapped to their arms.

"Am I with you?" I ask Deday as I climb over the ropes, praying I'm with Ot, as I'm so tired, and he seems less concerned with work-rate than defending the punches and kicks he randomly throws at you.

"Yaa you with me! Now... stand, guard, guard!!"

I stand in the guard, like I was with Patrick.

"Jab bop!" (I jab the pad)

"Pan Bop! POWER!! MORE POWER!" (I cross-punched the pad, pathetically it seems)

"Kick" I throw a right roundhouse kick, hard and fast as I can, like a whip extending from the hip, right hand dropping behind my arse, left fist in front of my face. My shin makes a loud PUMF! as it hits the pads and sweat splatters off my leg. I quickly drop my leg back, and throw a left-right and then left cross elbow onto Deday's waiting pads.

"Urr-aaagh!!" Deday shouts by way of encouragement, nodding.

"Again!....."

For the 6 minute rounds, Deday would be shouting out strikes in different combinations, getting me whipping the pads with roundhouse kicks (low, mid and high), stamping his belly protector with teeps (front push-kick), punching the pads with jabs, crosses, hooks, uppercuts, along with cross-elbows, uppercut elbows, downward elbows, and knee strikes that were only good enough if they lifted him off his feet, and I pulled him onto them. Then jumping techniques were introduced, throwing flying-elbows and flying-knees to finish or start combinations, seemingly at random.

Every time I completed a combination fast and strong enough for him, I was rewarded with a loud "Urraaagh!! GOOD, POWERRR!!"


With Deday, poor form, failing to block a punch or kick he would throw, or not understanding a "trick/defense" he wants you to do results in a "NOOO! Ahhhhh, no!" accompanied by downcast head-shaking and a very seriously pissed-off expression. It appears to deeply hurt him if you get something wrong, or so he pretends. So you do it again, then again faster, then another combination, then a defense-counter attack combination, another combination, again and again.

Soon I was sure the round was over, having done absolutley every single technique he's taught me, in every combination seemingly possible. I was panting deeply, struggling to keep my gloves high, having not stopped, weakened or paused for a moment. He looks at the clock on the wall.

"Ahhh OK..." he says

I throw my hands down.

"20 kick!" He says, holding the pads high....

I groan and start kicking, fast as I can. Then we swap to the other leg.

"100 punch!" He shouts immediately, and I 1-2 punch the waiting pads, sweat flying off me as I punch, left, right, left, right, left, right.....

Then elbows....then knees.....then...

"OK 1 minute!"... Deday immediately goes to the ropes and starts his charm on some passing girls, who were watching the training with interest.

I run to the other ropes and get ready to vomit, nearly falling through the ropes, so tired I can’t stand.

One minute later, we do another round.....

After that, it's bag work for a short while, shadow boxing to cool down, and then I head off to my hut for a cold shower, dry clothes, and then breakfast with Mrs G and the lads.


We all spend the day recovering (doing nothing), and then start again at 4pm, replacing the run with skipping and the warm down with groundwork- sit ups, press-ups etc.

It's a great life!

Or at least it was until I got injured. Today I can hardly walk due to a hip injury.

Bugger.