Sunday, February 22, 2015
Mama Said Knock You Out
It was billed as a boxing class, and while it certainly had aspects of pugilism, the beginning and end themes were definitely boot camp stuff.
The first 15 minutes was grueling. I knew it would be when the woman who showed up was the one who did the Insanity last May.
That was a living hell.
This first 15 minutes of this class was no better. I'm no fan of burpees or even jumping jacks. The sprints weren't too bad - though except for David and myself, the others on our team didn't really assert themselves. It wasn't scored, but had it been, we'd have lost.
Oh - and once again, we were the only two men (besides two of the instructors). I thought maybe it would be some kind of rape retaliation class: how to fight your attacker, and that David and I would be the designated rapists. Luckily, this did not come to fruition.
I will admit to liking the boxing and I didn't think I would.
Years ago, I made some flip comment to Rebecca when she said Muhammad Ali had some kind of honor for athlete of the millennium. I said he was as much of an athlete as Secretariat - which made Rebecca laugh.
Yes, boxers train and train and train. Lots of cardio and boot camp kind of stuff. And at least horse racing doesn't give you idiopathic Parkinson's disease.
But boxing, in real life, is not the same as it seems on television. I've seen it live and it is fucking brutal. Television desensitizes the violence of the hitting, the sounds and blood. It's not a video game or just a gambling event.
Yesterday wasn't exactly real boxing. It was just basics on hitting either guys or girls who were wearing pads or protective gear. Learning jabs, crosses and upper cuts.
Besides getting to throw punches at a guy wearing pads on his hands - left, right, left - I was expected to his a woman wearing a chest and abdominal protector.
I've never punched anyone in my life - let alone a girl. Years ago, I once owned up in this very blog, to being subjected to years of ridicule from former classmates because Eileen Perry beat me up in the 4th grade. Besides her being a bully - and obviously a probable lesbian - I even knew then it wasn't right to hit a girl, so I took it like a man.
The first few hits were very very tentative. She encouraged me where to hit and that I could do it harder. Also how to hold my arm and wrist, so not to hurt anything - on me. But hitting her was some virtual eraser for Eileen Perry. ...at least that's what I'm telling myself.
That was all fine, but hitting the guy's hand pads were a much better experience for me. He had to stop me the first time, saying we were going for speed and not power, as he saw me wind up.
I found it slightly amusing that I asked the two male instructors if they boxed and they replied they did not - even though they teach it.
Those who can't......
Doing push-ups and planks while wearing boxing gloves proved to be challenging, at best.
David and I even got to spar a little. We said, being family, we were mostly used to sparring with our wit. Or at least, our perceived wit.
It was a great workout - well, eventually it was. It should be noted that David and I not only survived the entire class, but were basically the last two standing. Yes, there were two other students from this gym who had taken their classes before (one was a total ringer!), but the other students dropped out and left early. So, I'm taking that as a win.
And we got a free two week pass to their facility. That was nice and if we were just hitting the bag, but it seems like a lot of burpees, push-ups, jumping jacks and sprints to get to that point. Even if we use a two week pass, I don't see getting there more than twice. .....which may just kill me.
Song by: L.L Cool J