The other night I finally got my first boxing lesson. It’s been in the works since July, when I bought my fabulous pink boxing gloves. I was informed that we needed a few other items before we could begin. No problem. Contact pads and kick pad purchased, jump rope unearthed. Check, check, and check. I was ready and willing. At last, we found a time to begin.
The lesson was held on the back patio. It’s a very small patio, so a lounge chair had to be temporarily relocated. Furniture moved. Check. Ok, at last! Now I get to hit!
Uh, no. Not yet.
First I had to jump rope. Yes, really. Do you have any idea how much I weigh? A lot! It takes a tremendous amount of effort to get this bulk free from gravity’s pull, even for a moment. Then there’s the whole coordination thing. I’m not so great at that. I have jumped rope before, but I don’t remember it being so difficult. I would get 4 or 5 jumps in a row, then miss. My longest streak was 14. That’s pitiful.
Not only do I suck at jumping rope, jumping rope causes me to suck. Suck wind, that is. Wowie zowie. It’s way harder than I remember, and I was huffing and puffing like crazy. It was way harder than swimming or walking the treadmill. My trainer actually began to feel sorry for my uncoordinated butt and just had me jump, sans rope.
Eventually, mercifully, the jumping portion of the workout ended. I could have thrown in the towel right there, but I was told to get the gloves on, so how could I quit?
Once they were on, I was given a lesson on posture. Then I was taught how to jab and hit. You know what? I really like it. I like the motion and the sound and the contact. I like feeling the energy move through my body, then exit through my fist.
My lesson didn’t last long, but after the jumping torture it was incredibly fun. Take a note, I actually liked this form of exercise.
The big surprise, however, was yet to be revealed. It was two days later that I discovered muscles in parts of my torso that I thought were so deeply covered in fat that they would never function again. That discomfort reminded me (with every move) that I really did do something good. It wasn’t all a dream.