For your enjoyment, today I present a crappy photo as PROOF of how kickboxing kicked my ass last night, or more precisely, how it kicked my knee:
(No, I didn’t get kicked. At least not in the knee!)
I want to tell the story of going to kickboxing and kettlebell class yesterday, which was quite an experience. I came away with that bruise, which I think might be from floor pushups and planks? It’s a sign of a good class, I think, if I can’t quite remember what did it.
As you will recall, last week I set myself the task of finding some fitness classes that would help me exercise on a schedule, and I found One With Heart, a martial arts/yoga/fitness center with regular kickboxing and kettleball classes. Just my style, I thought. So last Thursday I took a tour of their facility, gawked at the legions of school age kiddies performing to a gallery of parents, admired their beautiful Yoga studio (dedicated, temple-like, to only be used for meditative arts) and got a good look at the main classroom, a large wooden-floored gym room which is bordered by weight machines, windows, mats and mirrors, and a line of those heavy hanging punching bags.
Brilliant! With schedule in hand, I decided to use one of my free passes to go to kickboxing last night with Teresa, who also gave me the tour. Yesterday I found myself nervously stretching before class. I was definitely the fattest person. Most likely the most out of shape. Half the class showed up barefoot, which clued me in to how many of them had trained in this before (shoes are optional, definitely eschewed by the highly skilled).
Well, aside from footwear, the other sign that my ass was going to be kicked was the fact that class started with one minute of jumping rope. Holy crap, what? I’m pretty sure that if I had been wearing a heartrate monitor I would have been kicked out at this point, as I am so out of shape that this was a real challenge. But I had to smile as I watched my belly bounce (I need a sports bra for my pooch!) in the mirror as I jumped–which was a huge victory for self-acceptance. It was hard but a lot of fun, really, when I wasn’t smacking myself in the face with the jumprope or getting it tangled in my sneakers! Seeing my own smile of joy in the mirror was really fun. No jiggle can erase that.
During the kickboxing class, we kicked the punching bag, we kicked a padded shield held by our partner, and we alternated that with more jumping rope, squats, running in place, and other assorted things. I felt a little disappointed about kicking, because I LOVE TO KICK THINGS, but I realized my surgeon would not be very pleased if I kicked with my left leg and ended up breaking the hardware I’m scheduled to get removed next month. Oops! So I got lots of kicks in on the right side instead :)
Somewhere in the middle of class I felt really naive for not bringing a water bottle. During our quick breaks I ducked into the kitchenette and drank from the sink using a flower-shaped rice bowl in the drainer. I definitely felt like the penitent warrior at the temple. Next time I will bring my bottle, oh great master!
After a half hour of that, I felt extremely tired and winded, but decided to stick around for the kettlebell session. We alternated 90 seconds of kettlebell, 90 seconds of floor core work, and 60 seconds of rest. It was incredibly fatiguing (I was nearly too weak to use the 8kg kettlebell) and towards the end it was really hard to get up off the floor. When that half-hour session was over (5:30-7:30 is a continuous session of half hour blocks, people just come in and out at will) I knew I was too shaky to continue, and I felt borderline light-headed when standing up. When I said goodbye to Teresa, she asked, “So are you coming back?” I told her maybe not this week, but definitely next week (!! what? my muscles protested), and thanked her for kicking my ass. At first I gave her a weak high five, but she made me retry, and on the second pass I managed a strong high five. I left feeling triumphant but shaky, a little overwhelmed by my lack of fitness.
At first I was convinced there was NO WAY I could go back for a second class in one week, but this morning I actually feel pretty good. There are strange new muscles in my butt and somewhere in my back. I think I could manage a second class if I wait until Thursday. I laugh now to think that Teresa told me the center is running a promotion right now — if you attend 20 classes in 30 days, they’ll give you a month membership free. Originally I didn’t think I’d want to drive there four times per week. But now I know that my poor weakling body wouldn’t SURVIVE that much asskicking! Ha.
My fearful side wants to retreat into lots of safe fat-thinking excuses about this class. They don’t understand I’m at a lower fitness level! My ankle is weird and I have really bad balance! I forgot my water! I can’t do planks! It’s hard to jump because I’m too fat! But after having all those thoughts and then doing it anyway last night, you know what? It doesn’t matter and they don’t care. If you stop to catch your breath in the middle of your 90-second Butterfly Of Doom, you keep going when you can. I can’t stop living because I’m not perfect yet — life has to be the process of getting there, too.
Based on my experience yesterday, there are a few things I can do to make the process easier, though:
- Better sports bra (mine is too small)
- BRING A WATER BOTTLE, FOOL.
- Snacks before class!
- No loose yoga pants. You can’t jump rope if you have to keep hiking your pants up!
Okay, I think that’s it. I’m a little scared to commit to these classes, because they are so intense and HARD and I’m fat and I don’t know if I’m ready and and and. But I am going to calmly ignore all of those thoughts and just do it. Because the feeling of being awed by my body’s abilities, even when I’ve walked into a class in possibly the worst shape of my life, is unbeatable. Even half dead, I felt invincible.
