As we start edging into winter there is little activity on the river to keep me occupied whilst on the treadmill (which gives me a great view of the river and all its activity), so instead I did a fair bit of day-dreaming, which is kind of how this lengthy blog came about. But first I did a fair bit of thinking about ... of all things, boxing. This is mostly because I had recently watched Rocky II. Now, I'm not exactly a Sylvestor Stallone fan, but a mate of mine who for many years made a respectable living as a professional triathlete, has lauded the Rocky movies as the perfect motivation tool, and so I occasionally dip into them.
Boxing is a really odd kind of sport. I'm not the kind of person who finds any satisfaction in brutality, but boxing has always had a bit of a fascination for me. I can trace this back to the Muhammad Ali - Joe Frazier fight of 1971, which is partly paid tribute to in the the first Rocky movie. I happened to be home sick from school that day, and my father - an otherwise upright and honest man, and who showed very little interest in sport at all, surprised the heck out of me by taking the day off work to stay home and watch it. And so we watched it together, and that is a moment etched into my memory. For starters, live satellite broadcasts of sporting events were a rarity way back then, so the broadcast of itself was interesting enough. But it was the guts of both fighters over 15 rounds, and seeing also my Dad gripped by the spectacle that stays with me.
To my mind, boxing - and I think the Rocky movies capture this very well - is not really about beating the opponent. It is much more about stamina and determination; about driving one's self to deliver your best. And it is demonstrated in such a brutally simple way. It was this kind of grit that appealed to my Dad, a quality he admired but seldom saw in other sports. And I find it the same. More importantly, there's a connection with running that I find fascinating, and it's perhaps no coincidence that boxers place such importance on the role of running in their training. Whether you're in the ring with another boxer, or on the road slugging out the miles, the real opponent is still yourself, and the goal is not to beat your opponent to a pulp, but simply to
endure.
Anyway, enough philosophising. The Rocky movies are wonderfully motivating, and worth watching if only for the training scenes. And notice too that Rocky never gets serious about his training until he has a definite goal in mind - that's when he makes the decision to be the best he can be, and that's when he becomes the champion.
Cool.
Well after all that, it is my duty to report that rather than a triumph of running the roads of Tasmania, instead a weekend of sloth and decadence begins tomorrow, as I take an old friend on a tour of Tasmania's finest wineries, pubs and restaurants. The only distances covered will be to the bar and back I fear!
It may be a bit ugly. If I survive, I shall report back on Monday.
Have yourselves a good one!
March maundering.
