First night nerves

IT'S been a long time, a damn long time. And last time's effort was a complete failure. But tonight, for the first time since last April - almost a year - I'm going back to boxing.

Before my last short-lived, abortive effort, I had gone some eight months without boxing, and prior to that, I had only boxed for eight months. So, in other words, the time that I've not boxed is substantially longer than the period that I did.

In the interim, I've grown fat, weak, and I don't like it, don't like it at all. I got back to smoking, too, and that robs me of my energy. I was smoking when I last returned to boxing and I don't really know what I was thinking, trying to combine the two.

But then I lost my job and my mother died, and things feel different now. I don't feel like I'm piling the pressure on myself any more. I don't feel like, when I reach the gym tonight and realise I'm the biggest guy there (fat, not muscle) that I'm facing an insurmountable task, that I'll never be ready to fight.

Having had good sessions back on the bags (apart from poor stamina) has helped. It fets really good to get back to whacking bags and, while my footwork has gone to pieces and no doubt my mind is working too slow, and I'm sure there are hundreds of other things to fix in the return to form, I feel like I'll be there for my pleasure, that it won't be eroded to a chore as the weight of my own expectations bears down on me.

In short, I can't wait.