There's a story I've been meaning to tell you. So last week I was involved in an assault at my gym. In the vain of trying new things (that initiative kind of stalled out, though my monthly date with my sister might fit the bill) I decided to try a Cardio Boxing class at my gym. I didn't really know what to expect but have heard that boxing is a good workout. I showed up and there were 4 others in the class, including Doug, the instructor, a burly man with a busted up nose in his late 40s. He introduced himself and within minutes was explaining the in's and out's of really hurting someone in a street fight. Oh God.
So class started with jump roping. Ok, doing fine so far. Then we switched to 3 minute drills. Doug was barking out orders left and right so I didn't really have time to think. When I finally got my wits about me I was "sparring" with the teacher's protege, a gal affectionately nicknamed "The Bulldog." We smacked gloves (for the record, this was the first time I've ever donned boxing gloves) and she told me (from behind her mouth guard) "You're gonna try and hit me as hard as you can." Oh good God, what have I gotten myself into? So basically she fluttered around for 3 minutes while I chased her and tried to hit her. Operative word being, tried. It was kind of fun but I was definitely that girl that kept saying "Oh, sorry" on the few occasions I landed a good punch.
The next drill involved teaming up with Doug to hit the pads. First he taught me some punches and then I would have to do them when he shouted out orders. It was a lot to compute on 5 hours of sleep and with sweat running into my bleary eyes. Every time I let my guard down he'd give me a little tap to the head or face. He was sort of a gentle giant though so his little taps were pretty hard taps.
Then we did some other drills ("bag work," for those in the know.) That was actually fun.
The second round of the circuit involved Doug getting into his sparring gear. Once he put on his codpiece I knew I was in trouble. The bell sounded and off we went. Doug basically played defense and offered instruction, with the exception of 'tapping' me when my guard was down (which was basically the whole time.) I was fine with having my ears boxed on occasion but started to take issue with the shots to my mammaries. I knew about 'body shots' in boxing but was not familiar with blows to the boobs. I was dying laughing inside because I kept thinking about a tactful way to ask him to take mercy on me and my milk sources. "Um excuse me Doug, can you please stop pummeling my mammaries as they are a food source and the only way I keep another human being alive."
It was one of those workouts where you're just happy to have survived it. Actually I would totally do it again, if I could get over the discomfort with the aggression. I liked punching the bags and the fast paced circuit training but was not so much into the sparring. I kind of think that's the point of boxing though- hitting people.
Oh, I almost forgot the best part. So I watched the clock like a hawk as the hour came to a close. The clock struck 10 but everyone kept uppercutting and jabbing. Then I realized, doh, this class is an hour and a half. F- my life.