West End Gym, Lowell

Yes, I box. It is probably the most interesting thing I have done in the last seven years. And, as with any of my latest interests, I've gone a bit overboard. I watch boxing on television, have started attending live amateur fights, wear Everlast and Ringside gear, bought new shoes that Stephen doesn't yet know about (now he does but, hey, they were on sale!), and train as often as I can.

Boxing is a fantastic workout, which means I may actually stick with it. I come by my vanity honestly. I love my mom, but she's not exactly...well, subtle. I jog every morning, but for this torture I can blame my two Border Collie mutts who harass me as soon as my alarm goes off at six. Grover is especially forceful that I get my ass out of bed and take her to the woods damnit; she has some very sharp nails, so she usually gets what she wants.

The boxing all started with Stephen buying Fight Night 3 for our new Xbox 360. I am little more violent than my schoolmarm alter ego, so yes I loved it. Stephen says I have no empathy, which is why I don't even flinch when people get hit. Eh, whatever, the game rocks. A friend named Peter Q. told me he often hits the heavy bag in his basement for a bit of cardio, so I immediately ran out and bought my own set of cheap Everlast gloves and gel hand wraps to try it out. I am not one to pass up on schwag.

Little girls don't grow up fighting typically, and I never really learned how to throw a punch. Stephen would just read a book or website to teach himself, but I like to pay people to patiently break down every single solitary friggin' step for me. This is probably why I teach. I started at The Ring Boxing Club near Boston U. on Commonwealth. Specializing in what the Boston Globe just called "white collar boxing," The Ring offers training as a part of the gym fee. The guys there were nice, especially Rodney Toney and Sassan Tabatabai. Just a few days ago I turned on the t.v. to watch some boxing on NESN and there was Rodney fighting at Mohegan Sun (which he won by unanimous decision--way to go, Rodney!). Sassan's day job is working as a humanities professor at BU, so throw away all those tired old stereotypes about boxers. These two taught me the basics, after which I promptly went out to buy a new pair of gloves. When you hit the coaches' mitts hard, the quality of glove really does matter. They're much cooler, too.

Eventually the summer was over and Groton wanted me to earn my salary once again, so the trip into Boston just wasn't going to happen. I resisted this reality, of course, because I did not want to give up the sport, but Stephen was insistent that I would no longer have the time to make the trip. He's right an annoying amount of the time, which is the most troubling personality flaw he has. Under extreme duress, I investigated other options.

That's how I found the West End Gym in Lowell. No, there's no web link. There's no website. This is a real gym, training kids for the Golden Gloves. No afterwork investment bankers out to prove that they can still be badasses. Well, okay, there's me, and I suppose I sort of fit into this category (though without the salary, disappointingly). I think that I have nevertheless won most of the folks at the gym over by being totally in awe of them all. Even Dave Ortiz, whom I learned early on is one of the best trainers in the country, has taken pity on me and starting working with me on a regular basis. Everything I do correctly, Dave taught me. Everything I do wrong is all me.

Arthur Ramalho has owned the place for years, and he manages to keep it going despite charging only a $25/month membership fee (which still not everyone in the gym can afford to pay, so he often just collects what he can). Arthur has trained several generations of boxers, including his son David who went pro, but he can no longer take the pounding of holding the coaches' mitts. He is still the heart and soul of the place, though, watching us all--from hot amateur prospects to the couple of mothers who work out while their sons are training. He's also trained and owned racehorses and built up a thriving senior citizens' center in the city. He's a man with stories, and when I am at the gym I feel like I have stories, too.

(Photo by Ellen Rennard.)