The Road To Porto: Uncertainty

Overtraining feels like it creeps up on you. But often, the signs are there, you just choose to ignore them.

I logged my emotions twice a day using an app called How We Feel. The app categorised emotions based on energy (high/low) and pleasantness (pleasant/unpleasant).

• 🟨 High-energy, pleasant: happy, motivated
  
• 🟥 High-energy, unpleasant: angry, anxious
  
• 🟩 Low-energy, pleasant: calm, compassionate
  
• 🟦 Low-energy, unpleasant: tired, sad

I tracked both mood and context: where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with. I log entries in the morning and afternoon, describing how I feel:

1. Upon waking
2. Before work
3. After work
4. Before training

Logging my mood helps me pause, check in, and relax before continuing. This is particularly helpful before an activity (e.g., work or training, hence the timing), as taking a moment to relax can make a significant difference in productivity at work or performance during training.

Over 504 days, I’ve created 917 entries using 125 emotions. I’ve learned that emotions are fleeting; usually, they come and go, and are forgotten about. But when a pattern emerges from gathering them each week, you begin to see interesting things.

Across December and January, my emotions followed a pattern of blue → green → yellow → blue tracking getting sick over Christmas, recovering, getting back to training, and my response over the first 5 weeks. When you are training hard, all you need is something to push you over the edge.

On Thursday, 6th February, the morning after sparring in Mulhuddart, where I left off last week, I woke with a cut above my left eye. It was swollen and bruised. I had an uneasy, swimming-like feeling in my head. A spar in Santry was planned that evening, but I decided to avoid contact to protect the cut and told my coach that I’d train at the club. I arrived early for a light ladder warm-up to check how I felt. After only a few minutes, I felt dizzy and off balance. I cut the session short and went home to rest. I was disappointed not to train, but it felt like the right call.

The symptoms lingered on Friday, so I skipped the gym. By Saturday, I felt drained. Even walking up stairs left me breathless, and my legs felt like sandbags. Cold and flu symptoms kicked in, too. I told myself I was lucky this was falling over a weekend. If I gave it a day or two, I’d be fine by Monday, ready to go again.

On Monday, my black eye was fresh and yellow. When the fogginess and fatigue persisted, I continued to rest rather than train. On Tuesday, it had been five days, and I decided to get a check-up. Later that day, I was in a taxi on the way to Beaumont Hospital for a CT scan. I was talking to this older driver, and he asked about the black eye, so I shared why I was going to the hospital.

The driver said, “Hey kid, if the doctor tells you to give up boxing, do it. Mind yourself. Think about your future.” It fed straight into my fears. For a moment, I believed I might be told to quit within the hour.

What surprised me was how my body reacted. The thought brought a wave of relief, like a burden lifted. But almost immediately, I felt guilty. I’d said I was fully committed, yet part of me was looking for a way out.

That shocked me more than anything. I realised how much pressure I’d been carrying. But relief is just a feeling. I didn’t need to act on it. The rest of the way, I chose to sit with the uncertainty rather than jump to conclusions.

After waiting six hours, the doctor explained I had no visible damage. I’d experienced mild head trauma, and she recommended I return to training gradually and avoid contact for three weeks.

I gave myself the rest of the week before returning to training.

On Sunday, 16th February, I met a friend for coffee and shared doubts about Porto. The fire inside felt dimmed, and the hospital trip still weighed on me. But my friend encouraged me not to waste the opportunity. It grounded me—reminded me why I started.

On Monday, 17th February, I returned to training. I felt behind, like time was slipping away. It wasn’t just the concussion, it was the sense that things outside my control had derailed me. I wanted to take that control back.

I began mental visualisation to improve consistency under pressure. If your mood dictates your performance, your results will always be unreliable. This practice helped me focus on what I could control.

My routine lasted ten minutes: two minutes of grounding using box breathing and bilateral tapping to release tension; six minutes of mental rehearsal, visualising the ring walk, fight scenarios, and final decision; and two minutes of mantra.

For the mantra, I focused on three traits: playful, snappy, and relentless. Playful meant loose and fluid footwork —feints, setups, flow. Snappy was about timing and clean execution. Relentless meant staying on the front foot and applying pressure without giving my opponent time to reset.

To anchor these traits, I used images, similar to Ali’s “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee”: a monkey for looseness and curiosity, a snake for sharpness and balance, and a train for forward momentum and power. This created the phrase: playful like a monkey, snappy like a snake, and relentless like a train.

On Wednesday before training, I ran through a mental visualisation that turned out to be surprisingly effective. I pictured myself walking into the ring, senses heightened, and heart racing. I moved around, took up space, and felt the usual surge of adrenaline and fear. But I stayed with it. As I recited the mantra in the final minutes, a calm focus set in. The visualisation felt like a sandstorm; chaotic at first, energy swirling in every direction. But as I shifted to breathing, the sand began to settle. What had been foggy cleared, and I felt sharp, steady, and back in control.

One week later, on Wednesday, 26th February, three weeks had passed, and I was cleared to spar again. In sparring, while I started slow and stuck in my head, I returned to my mantra. My head movement sharpened, and I became lighter on my feet and more present.

It wasn’t a standout round, but it felt like a turning point. I was back on track.

What I didn’t realise was that another challenge was just around the corner. Next week, the Dublin Novices Boxing Competition enters the picture.