BOXING banner

As a firewife, we all want to look our best for our firefighters, right?

I decided it would be a good idea to sign up for a local boxing class. I was very excited about going, and prepared for the class. I had it all under control. This would be easy and fun, and I would be able to meet new people and get in shape.

It was a humid 98 degrees outside when I first arrived. I will admit, I was expecting a smoky, dark room with a big man chewing on a cigar in the corner.

Boy was I wrong!

As I bounced back and forth on my toes and punched the heavy bag, left-right-left-right, I began to think what a wonderful idea boxing was. This was so much fun! My body was definitely getting warm, then warmer, then hot! The trainer announced it was 90 degrees inside, but he hoped we could get it up to 95 to really get a workout! I knew I was too young for hot flashes. After the ten minute warm up, aka sweatfest, we began the circuit work.

I found myself becoming a contortionist for a brief moment while wriggling through the ropes to get in the ring with the trainer. I was silently thankful that I hadn’t fallen flat on my face in the process.

The trainer started me out with jabs. Jab, jab, jab. Ok, so far so good. “Now jab with your left and cross with your right while pivoting on your back leg,” he said enthusiastically.  I gave my signature weak left jab and swung my right arm across to connect with the sparring pad. A resounding thwack echoed in the sauna, I mean, gym. That felt so….good! The trainer mentioned how strong my right arm was. I was proud, but wondering if he meant in relation to my flopping noodle left arm jab. In any case, this is what I had been looking forward to. I took out my weeks’ frustrations on those sparring pads for the next 2 minutes before moving to the speed bag.

I received a quick 10-second lesson from the trainer. Easy peasy, right? Not really. I suddenly felt like I had lost all grace, composure, coordination, and intelligence. I was being beaten by a tiny little bag swinging from a hook. I attempted to look like I knew what I was doing until the bell sounded and, thankfully, it was time to switch to the next station.

Next I went and beat the life out of the heavy bag, did some cycling, then ring jumps. I was certain there wasn’t a drop of moisture left in my body. It was all on my shirt! In my mind, I was feeling a rush of excitement that I had persevered. Then the trainer decided to stick it to me by saying,

“Now let’s get to the real workout!”

I was tempted to walk/crawl out, but if the skinny girl next to me with no muscle could keep going, so could I. We suffered through 5 different rounds of burpees variations. At one point, I actually thought how nice it would be if my firefighter had come with me so he could save me when I had a heart attack.. When the trainer saw my fatigued, struggling body, he came over jubilantly and finished them with me. I won’t lie. Pride was the only reason I made it through this part. I am pretty sure I passed out and my body just automatically did burpees until I regained consciousness.

My body was shaking, I was sucking air, my heart was pounding, I had nowhere dry left on my shirt to wipe the sweat from my forehead. It was ab time. I only wish I was kidding. We worked our abs so hard I felt it the entire way through my body. When the sweet moment came and class ended, I immediately wanted to start my car, get the air conditioning going and maybe throw up in the parking lot, but no one else seemed to have the same idea, so I followed their lead on putting mats, gloves, and wraps away.

Now that I am home reflecting on this great idea I had to take up a boxing class, I remember the trip to the grocery store after class and how I purposely chose items on the lower shelves because I couldn’t physically lift my arms above my head. I remember the trainer thanking me for coming. Then I vaguely remember me telling him I would be back the next class. I must have lost my mind for that moment. Then I realize it. I had fun! Fun, you ask?  Even though I am so worn out it all feels like some distant dream, I feel stronger, more confident, happier, more relaxed, and proud of myself for giving it 100% the entire time (even if my 100% was doing girl pushups). I loved finding my limits and knowing next time I will do more. It was awesome!

I can’t wait to go back…as soon as I can reach down to tie my shoes again.

 

 

 

For some more reading

The following two tabs change content below.

Lindsey

Latest posts by Lindsey (see all)

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This