Last week I went to a kickboxing class.  I had no intention of doing any such thing, it just sort of happened.

Katie and MJ have started taking these classes at the same place where all the kids take karate.  They said it was fun and it sounded really fun but most of the classes are at times that just don't work for me; either I'm driving or picking Josie up from school or they're at night and I have no such energy at night.

Well, there's one class a week in the middle of the morning.  Two of our three cars had demanded liver transplants last week so the idea of kicking and punching the crap out of something sounded really appealing.  So, I went to class with Katie.

There were about eight people in the class.  I think I was the oldest although there were a few other adults.  There were three girls who may have still been in highschool and a man with his ten year old daughter, a woman and her teenage son and a couple of twenty something gals.

Katie and I were partners.  First, we had to get into our pads.  She had the gaurds and I put on the gloves.  The instructor, known to me only as KarateMan, showed us a combination left jab, right, right then lunge left as the gaurd holder jabbed back.  We practiced slowly, then fast and finally as hard and fast as we could.

I haven't punched anything in years.  It felt good.

Really good.

After about ten minutes, we switched and I held the gaurd pads while Katie punched.  Holding the pads is not a whole lot easier than punching.  We were all sweating like pigs but it was really fun.  KarateMan kept yelling at us to keep moving our feet so we were all dancing around to the music being piped in.  We did several different combinations at least twenty times each.

Just when I thought if I threw one more punch my arms would fall off, KarateMan started us on kicks.

Good God.

My legs are not what they once were.

In order to achieve the correct position, I had to stand on my right leg, lift my left leg up to the side til it was perpendicular with the ground and tuck my foot into my butt.

I couldn't do that back when I was hurdling.  Fortunately no one expected me to in those days.  KarateMan not only expected it, he demanded it.  When I still couldn't do it, he grabbed my ankle and held it up, yelling "Kick me!" So I did.  He made me kick him about six times. 

I didn't mind kicking him, in fact I wanted to knock him down, but while I was flailing away with my left leg, my right butt cheek said "Oh, excuse me, but CRAMP!!!!"

So I spent the next ten minutes holding pads for Katie while she kicked me and I felt like I had a knife stuck in my right bun.

This naturally made me laugh until I thought I might puke.

I  managed not to puke and I tied my right foot around my neck to stretch out the cramp and then tried kicking with my right leg.  That was actually a lot easier, as my left leg has always been stronger.  No cramps in that cheek.

Class went on for a full hour and we were working hard the whole time.  I don't think I've ever sweat that much. By the time it was done I just wanted to go home and go back to bed.  It was a great workout and probably wouldn't have been as exhausting as it was but Katie and I laughed way too much all the way through it.

Once we've paid off all the work on our stupid cars I'll have to figure out if I can afford to take some more classes.  On the other hand, if the darn cars keep breaking, it'll be worth any price to go punch and kick the shiite out of stuff once a week...

It was very therapeutic.

 

What did you think of this article?

Liked
Disliked
No Opinion