The first rule of Ladies Fight Club is that you tell all to Woman’s Way. Carissa Casey spills the beans on how women of all ages are getting fighting fit.

Maybe it’s something in the sea around Bray, County Wicklow, hometown of Katie Taylor, world champ and all round national treasure, but the age of 53, I got bitten by the boxing bug. 

True, I was a bit late to the ring and not exactly in the best shape. I started classes because it was something new, a bit different and would, hopefully, improve my fitness. The first thing I learned is that, even at the most basic, beginner level, boxing demands incredible fitness. The next thing I learnt is that, despite ending each class in a sweaty heap with a face the colour of an over-ripe tomato, I loved it. It made me feel alive and strong and ready to take on the world.

I needed all the good vibes I could get when, a few weeks later, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I turned up to a class one evening, feeling particularly shaky and fragile. I had just been told I was to have a mastectomy which, up until I actually had one, was my worst nightmare. 

The coach, Jay Byrne, a former professional boxer himself, was constantly encouraging (actually roaring at) me to be more aggressive with my punches. I wasn’t the only woman in the class who couldn’t quite let go enough to really land a hard smack on the boxing bag. For many women, particularly of my generation, aggression is a dirty word. We were never given permission to hit something really hard and I found it a struggle to really land the kind of punch I knew I could.

That night, having yet again been roared at/encouraged to be more aggressive, it occurred to me to think of the punch bag as cancer. It worked. I hit that bag so hard my arm hurt. But I didn’t care. Nothing that was happening to me was fair and I was p***ed off. For the rest of the class, I hammered that punch bag within an inch of its non-life and it felt brilliant. And that was the third thing I learned; for a stressed out middle aged woman, there is nothing more therapeutic than beating the hell out of an inanimate object. I walked out of the class that evening, exhausted but head high, back straight, safe in the knowledge I could handle whatever was coming down the tracks.

Between lockdowns and surgeries, my boxing career shuddered to a halt for more than a year. But, as things began to open up this spring, I got back to it. My fitness level was in the toilet. The first class back I struggled to get up off the mat, whereas before I had bounced to my feet. A few classes in, I started to get my strength back.

I’m blessed to have as a coach Reagan Buckley, another Bray boxing champ who won Bronze at the 2019 European Games and narrowly missed out on qualifying for the Olympics. He was also one of the stars of the recent documentary on Bray, Our Town, which screened on RTÉ 2. 

At both group outdoor training sessions and individual boxing classes, Reagan pushes me harder than I think I can go but never so far that it becomes too much. I’m more motivated than I’ve ever been to improve my fitness and build my strength. There’s something so good about seeing myself get better at a sport I’d never even contemplated up until a year or so ago.

That said, Katie T can relax for a while yet. I’ve only recently mastered the art of punching and moving my feet at the same time (not as easy as you’d think). And I’ve a long way to go before I’d even consider sparing against an opponent. For the moment, Reagan calls out a series of punches and moves. And, if I say so myself, I’m not too bad for a slightly older than most novice.

I’m also in great company. Lucille Lang turned 50 this year and would give the fastest 20-something a run for their money. She’s ridiculously fit and excellent fun. My goal, when we can get back to indoor training, is to get fit enough to go a round with her in the ring and still be standing at the end of it. A win for me against Lucille would be to not end up splat on the floor within the first ten seconds.

She’s a life-long exercise fan and credits growing up with brothers for her boxing prowess. “You need such a high level of fitness for boxing,” she points out. “I don’t think people realise just how demanding it is.”

And boxing is incredibly demanding. To start with you need cardio fitness. I’ve seen boxers in training for a fight (‘camp’ as we boxing types call it) fast skipping and still able to chat away to anyone nearby because they’re not even close to being out breath. Then there’s the physical strength and power. As importantly, you need balance, co-ordination, core strength, agility, stamina and explosive power. On top of that, you need to engage your brain, have nerves of steel and the ability to keep focused no matter what’s going on around you or to you. I can only imagine what it might be like to step into a ring and square off against an opponent who wants to whack you every bit as much as you want to whack them. As Reagan says, “one small lapse of attention and wham, you’re on the floor”. 

But proving that there’s no age barrier for ladies who decide to don the boxing gloves, we have (in the hero superhero corner) Margaret SURNAME. She’s 72 and grandmother to yet another Bray boxing sensation, Daina Moorehouse. Daina has won two European golds and a bronze medal, and was one of the most decorated underage boxers of recent times. Her career is on hold because of the Covid restrictions but watch out for her when boxing returns.

For Margaret, training and boxing is a great way to stay fit. “I really believe that you should never count yourself out of the game,” she says. “It’s just great fun and I love being part of the group.” 

At 31, Simone Nelson is still a baby but she packs a powerful punch. Aside from keeping herself fit, she likes being able to go head to head with her fella, none other than Reagan himself. “I need to keep manners on him,” she wisely says.

For each of us, boxing isn’t just about keeping physically fit. The boost to our mental health and well-being is profound. Getting back to training after that long, awful, monotonous lockdown earlier this year, was like being let out of prison. For me, that feeling of getting my strength and fitness back was second only to the opportunity to finally have chats on subjects as profound as Penneys shopping trips, hair and nail appointments, nights out and, more recently, staycation plans.

I’m not sure I’m ready to go professional for a while yet. I’ve watched boxers devote themselves to training for a fight, giving up pretty much everything to become lean mean muscle machines. And then they lose. There’s something truly admirable about seeing a bruised and battered boxer turn back up at the gym having lost a fight. 

More than anything, that’s the lesson I really want to learn from boxing. However bad I feel, however unfair life gets, however much I want to take to the couch with a bag of crisps and a vat of wine, I’ll put on a pair of boxing gloves instead and keep fighting.