Posters line the walls at the Avenue Boxing Club, an inner-city fight club in Edmonton. There are placards from a Sugar Ray Leonard-Thomas Hearns bout, Evander Holyfield-Mike Tyson brawls and a Lennox Lewis clash against Hasim (the Rock) Rahman.
Muhammad Ali is there, too, glowering with his fists cocked, and so is Jelena Mrdjenovich. The world flyweight champion trains at the gym in a storefront beside a thrift shop along a gritty stretch of 118th Avenue.
Rows of punching bags hang from the ceiling. The theme from Rocky plays in the background with the sound of soft punches as an accompaniment.
In the back, a woman in her 60s sits on a chair, shaking from tremors. She wears pink gloves and a smile.
"I'm a little dizzy," she says. "It's not one of my good days."
She is battling Parkinson's disease and joins another 15 patients taking boxing lessons at the gym twice a week. The program is a partnership between Parkinson Alberta and Boxing Alberta, and has proved to relieve symptoms of the neurological illness, which has no known cause or cure.
Harold Dhliwayo works out during the boxing program.
JASON FRANSON/For The Globe and Mail
There are currently programs in Edmonton, Calgary and Red Deer, and it is about to be expanded to Lethbridge. Ten thousand people across the province are living with Parkinson's, and there are more than 100,000 people afflicted nationwide.
"A lot of patients say, 'I used to be an athlete or an artist,'" says Brandi La Bonte, the communications and community relations manager for Parkinson Alberta. "We say, 'What makes you think you have to stop?'
"We are reminding them that having a disease does not define them. We are giving them their joy of life back."
Established in the summer, the boxing program has helped patients improve their balance, hand-eye co-ordination and strength. Coaches with special training oversee the workouts for individuals living with the long-term degenerative disorder.
It is an ironic twist in that a head injury from fighting is suspected to have caused Ali's Parkinson's disease. The former heavyweight champ died in June at 74.
On this morning, patients take turns assaulting heavy bags with the words "Fight to Live" painted on the side. They go toe to toe with trainers, punching them on the gloves, and then accept blows in return. Then they climb in a ring and bob and weave beneath a rope as if they were ducking hook shots. The high-intensity workouts increase dopamine production in the brain, which is inhibited by Parkinson's disease and causes tremors, rigidity and slowness of movement.
The average age of diagnosis is 58, but the boxing program in Edmonton has members from their late 40s to 70s.
"I notice a difference in attitude when they come in," says Sylvio Fex, a former lightweight boxer and trainer. "They feel good about themselves. That is the main thing."
Provincial boxing coach Sylvio Fex wraps the hands of Larry Matier, as he prepares to take part in a boxing program for Parkinson’s patients at Avenue Boxing Club in Edmonton.
JASON FRANSON/For The Globe and Mail
Roland Labbe, a fight referee and the president of Boxing Alberta, established the gym 10 years ago for inner-city kids. He allows students to box there for free, and welcomes a cross-section of users, including people who simply find it to be good exercise and professionals including Ms. Mrdjenovich and Scotty Olson, a former flyweight champ.
He says he took the idea to Parkinson Alberta and worked with them to customize the patients' training.
"It physically helps them," says Mr. Labbe, who served as a judge at the 2012 Summer Games in London. "Their bodies are shutting down, and this slows that process down."
The last place where Audrey Gagnon ever thought she would find herself was a boxing gym, but now she is becoming a regular.
She is 68, a mother to three and grandmother to five, and was diagnosed last year.
"The first time I walked in, I thought, 'What am I doing here in a stinky gym?'" Ms. Gagnon says, hands still wrapped with tape to protect her knuckles from bruising. "Now, I love it. I don't feel like I am exercising. I am having a good time."
Ms. Gagnon had a tremor and other strange symptoms for 15 years before she was diagnosed by a neurologist.
"I feel much better heath-wise, and it really improves my mental state," she says. "It's nice to come here and be surrounded by people who understand.
"I am trying to fight this the best that I can."
Kristine Reid takes a break during the boxing program.
JASON FRANSON/For The Globe and Mail
A retired investment adviser, Bob Kamp has attended a half-dozen sessions since the program was initiated. He said he suffered symptoms related to Parkinson's for years, but had hoped it was caused by something else.
"There is no cure for this, so I will try everything out there that might help me," Mr. Kamp, 71, says. "It is kind of scary. A medical professional tells you that you have something degenerative and progressive and that you are going to be saddled with it. Your life changes in an instant."
A former aircraft mechanic, Brian Overland retired after 25 years in the air force when he was diagnosed with Parkinson's last March. By then, he was slurring his words and found it nearly impossible to function.
Since joining the boxing program, he says the difference in the way he feels is like night and day.
"This is the best I have felt in years," Mr. Overland, 48, says. "It's great to be able to bob and weave."
Mr. Overland says that he believed his Parkinson's may stem from a head injury. But there is no way for him to know.
"They confirm it with an autopsy," Mr. Kamp says. "Most of us have opted for the uncertainty."