Kickboxing

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.

Weigh In

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect at weigh-in on Saturday morning.  I ricocheted from days with no workouts and eating out, to days where I stayed within my calorie limit and worked out (begrudgingly, but I still did it).  I ended up losing 2.2 pounds this week.  It was so encouraging to finally see a loss on the scale!  It’s motivating me to try even harder this week and see another one.

The three-day weekend wasn’t long enough.  I didn’t do any formal workouts over the weekend, because I got more than enough manual labor in!  I’m sure I burned a ton of calories doing yard work, and it was blazing hot, so I drank more water than usual too.  I was surprised my body didn’t reject water as a foreign substance and demand Coke instead.

I am aiming for two more pounds gone this week.  One week at a time, I am going to make it.

Sick

My new start was temporarily placed on hold yesterday, thanks to a stomachache and a throbbing headache that lasted all day.  I stayed home from work and tried to read, but I couldn’t stay awake. My body demanded sleep, and I was forced to give in.  By the time my fiance got home, I was feeling a little better but couldn’t shake the headache.  I got up to water the flowers and plants in the yard later in the evening, but that was the extent of my activity yesterday.

I’m back at work today, headache gone, so I plan to work out after work.  My exercise minutes ticker is looking a little sad!  Got to add some minutes in these last few days of May.

My New Day #1

I have started over before.  In fact, my blog is over a year old, and I have bounced right back to my starting weight, and then some.  So me declaring that I am starting over might elicit nothing more than a yawn or an incredulous “Again?”, but I am drawing the line in the sand.  It’s time to either start making real changes in my life, or just accept being fat.  I refuse to do the latter.

Seeing the kids this past weekend reminded me that this is about so much more than looking good in a pair of jeans, or a number on the scale.  For better or worse, kids are always watching the adults in their lives, and more sinks into their brains than we realize.

My oldest stepdaughter said she wants to lose weight.  My heart sank.  She is, by no stretch of any imagination, overweight, and she most certainly does not need to lose weight.  I mentally ran down all the female role models closest to her: a snooty grandmother with a stick wedged permanently up her ass, who emphatically believes that appearance is absolutely everything; an overweight, out-of-shape egg donor who moans constantly about her weight while doing nothing about it, and insults other women instead of lifting a finger to improve herself; and…me.

What about me?  I deliberately don’t mention my weight to the kids.  I know they are already fed enough of that body-and-appearance obsession at their other household, and I refuse to add to it.  But they are not blind.  They can see that I am overweight.  They can see my weight ricochet up and down.  So whether I piss and moan about it or not, I am still not being a healthy, strong role model for them, when they desperately need one.

I need to do better.  I will do better.  So I may have started over a million times before, but this time, I am going to keep in mind that there at least four other, very important reasons to do this besides myself, and those are my four stepkids.

Monday

Happy Monday!  Our weekend was great.  The kids were home, and the weekend flew by.  I worked out on Saturday even though I really didn’t want to, but I can’t really say I’m making changes and then not actually do anything different, right?

I could tell the kids were not ready to leave on Sunday, when it was time to head to Hickville and their egg donor.  It doesn’t seem like things are terribly pleasant over there right now.

Their home in Hickville is a stark contrast to ours.  Ours is colorful, cute, home-y, with plants and flowers all over the place.  In Hickville, the house is a dull, white shoebox plunked in the middle of a boring square of dirt and mangy grass.  No wonder they don’t want to go back.

I’ve said before, the only time I don’t worry about the kids is when they are home with us.  I was far more relaxed over the weekend, at least until I saw their faces when it was time to go back.  I need to remember that I want to lose this weight as much for them as I do for myself.

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