Most people don’t know that many moons ago, in another lifetime, in a galaxy far, far away, I used to be in kick-butt shape. During college I got hooked on judo, and that led to karate and then kickboxing classes years later at a martial arts studio.
When my kickboxing instructor got injured and couldn’t teach anymore, I couldn’t find another teacher like him, so I gave it up. That was at least 10-15 years ago. I’ve been struggling ever since to find a workout that I love anywhere near as much.
I got bored quickly with running, but I kept trying to force myself to do it anyway. Finally I decided it was time to get back to what I loved to do. These days, martial arts classes are pretty expensive, so I found a reasonably priced cardio kickboxing class, clicked on the link for their online registration…and hesitated.
I’m not ready for this! I was practically screaming at myself to just back away from the computer. I am nowhere near the shape I was in when I took kickboxing classes. I am overweight. I am out of shape. I told myself to wait until the next session of classes starts in August, and use this time to get into a little better shape first.
But even as I thought it, I knew what would happen. Between now and August, I would promise myself I’d get into better shape, then I wouldn’t do it. August would show up with me even heavier and in even worse shape. Nope, not giving myself the chance to do that. I registered for class.
The first class was last night. Right after the warm-up, we hit the floor for 60 push-ups. I knew I was deeply, hopelessly, and horrifically in trouble.
We ran. We did push-ups. And more push-ups. We punched with weights. We did movements and activities I believe are used to torture people for information. I was gasping for breath and sweating so bad, it was running into my eyes.
At some point, when I was near death and contemplating stumbling to the front desk to beg them to call 911, the kickboxing instructor bounded over to me like a hyperactive Tigger and asked, “How are you doing?”
I wanted to punch her in the face. When I could actually draw enough air into my battered lungs, I said, “Really?”
She laughed, gave me a thumbs-up, and said “You’re doing great!” before zipping off to lead the next round of agony.
I was a bit disappointed it’s more of a boot camp than kickboxing. Yeah, there were rounds of punching and kicking, but after having serious teachers like I’ve had in the past, I cringed at the lack of instruction about proper form. (Kicking with bad form will kill your knees). I was sweaty, worn out, and drained, so it was a great workout, but I was hoping for more kicking and punching than running laps and doing push-ups. Well, it’s not like the classes I used to take, but it sure beats doing nothing, so I’m still glad I signed up.
Sweat & Sparkle 