The karate studio where I work has kickboxing class for adults twice a week and, as an employee, I can go for free. I have been thinking about going for quite some time, since I keep getting bigger and bigger, but I haven’t done it. I was afraid to go. Afraid of the unknown, afraid of what the other people in the class would think of me, afraid that I would not be able to keep up, afraid that any exercise whatsoever would make me barf in public, afraid of not having any appropriate clothes that fit me to wear…you name it, I tortured myself with it and just sat at home.
Thankfully, a friend and co-worker of mine started going to the class with her husband last month. I kept saying that I would show up at class one night since I actually knew someone there, but I never did. Finally, last week, I got up the nerve to tell my friend that I needed her to drag me to that class. And, being the great friend that she is, she complied. She was willing to be the “bad guy” for me b/c she understood that I needed that to get over the initial hurdle.
Last night was the class that she was going to drag me to. And of course, all day long, I did not feel well. I wanted to tell her that I could not go b/c I was not feeling well, but I had a “coming to Jesus” talk with myself. I am so good at having those talks with other people, you know? I can fix everybody’s problems but my own! Anywho, I had that talk with myself and realized that every single time I decided I was going to start an exercise routine that day, I ended up not feeling well. I mysteriously got my period, or I had an upset stomach and had to stay near the bathroom or I ate nothing but beans and broccoli the 24 hours before and could not be around others for gaseous reasons, etc. It was always SOMETHING. But I was NOT going to allow myself to make another excuse. I was GOING to this class, even if I barfed or farted all over the place!
And you know what? I had a great time! I am SO GLAD they drove over to my house and took me to the class. I am proud of myself for exercising and everyone can use a little extra pride in themselves, don’t you think? I did not have gloves and the bin of extra gloves was empty from other attendees in the class. Pshaw, I thought. I’m not going to need gloves on the 1st class anyway. I am so out of shape, I could not hit that bag with any amount of strength requiring gloves anyway, right?
We started out doing a “warm-up”. MY idea of warming up is long stretches, walking in place, stepping side-to-side, maybe some lunges… The teacher’s idea of warming-up was jumping jacks. OK, I told myself, you can do this. How many could we do in a warm-up? 25? He did not count; he timed. As many as you could do in 1 minute increments, and there was more than one, 1 minute increment, people! My boobs were jumping, my backfat was jumping, but, worst of all, my incontinence-due-to-vaginal-birth was saying, “What the HELL are you doing? I’m about to make a mess up in here! You know the deal – no trampolines, no bed jumping and NO jumping jacks.” I don’t know how I hung on, but I jumped jacks while kegelling the heck out of my insides. I actually made it to 100 jumping jacks before I had to run off into the bathroom. Once again, proud of me! Never thought I could do 1 jumping jack, let alone 100. I want my 8th Grade Presidential Fitness Award renewed. ;o)
My friend and I shared a bag for our punches and kicks. After a few rounds of jabs, hooks and uppercuts, I had bleeding knuckles on both hands. I was HOOKED! The sight and smell of blood was like adrenaline to me, for some reason. I felt so badass, so capable! At one point, we were to take turns punching and kicking the bags with our partners, and the one who was not hitting the bag was to yell encouragement at the one hitting the bag. She and I were cracking up over this. She yelled at me once, “Come on! Take your frustration out on that bag! I know you’re picturing your husband!” I immediately thought, I’m not frustrated at him for anything. Then something hit me and I became a driven women. I ATTACKED that bag! I yelled to my partner, “I’m fighting off the hubs to keep him from changing the temperature on the thermostat at home!” We had a good laugh over that one.
That was all I really needed – to get over the 1st hurdle of just going. Even at my age, it’s hard to reach out and ask for help. But I’m so glad I did!
- I am a very lucky woman with a husband and son who are smart, witty and entertaining. Our son, B, attended public school for two years, and then we embarked on a new adventure in the Fall of 2010 - homeschooling. We don't have all the answers, but we know B and this has been the best thing for him. I blog to preserve our stories and our memories, share recipes, vent and ramble on about our crazy, yet blessed, life. Would you care to follow along?