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Timber!

I’ve been kick boxing two days a week for a few weeks now. I’m slightly more coordinated than I was before, but not by much. I’m working on it. I’m even getting a bit better at planks, and I can even do a burpee or two.

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What I love about the class is that there are several different instructors with varied schedules, which means I get someone different almost every time. Even if the instructor is repeated, the routine is not. It is different every single class, which keeps it interesting.

Each class is designed so you can go at your own pace. I like this a lot, because let’s face it, I haven’t seen a gym class in over 20 years, and there are people half my age beating on the bags beside me. There’s no pressure for me to keep up with them, and that’s ok with me, it’s not a competition. The instructor also suggests modifications for exercises. For example, if you can’t do a burpee, do a squat instead.

The instructors encourage everyone to push themselves, with one of the goals to take a bag down. You’ve got to be kidding me, each bag is 125 pounds and hangs by a thick chain. I have never seen anyone, male or female, do it yet.

I put more effort into punching, kicking, and moving in general. I feel more comfortable doing so, now that I’m pretty sure I will leave class in my car and not an ambulance. It turns out the bag does move a bit if you actually whack it.

I heard the sound of metal coming apart, then boom! The large black bag I was assaulting was at my feet before I knew what happened. I jumped out of the way before it could smash me. I was stunned and continued punching the bag to my left. I never thought the first bag I saw come down would be mine.

I have to admit I was pretty happy with myself. I was hoping I would get a prize, a picture on the wall, something. Nope, all I got was the satisfaction of knocking out the bag, and I’m cool with that. If nothing else, it made for a great photo opportunity. I just wish I had grabbed one of the metal parts that broke off as a memento.

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When I returned to the gym two days later, I was unable to knock out my new opponent. However, my victim from before was across the room on the floor; it still hadn’t been hung back up for more punishment. Seeing it out of commission renewed the memory of my knock out. Is this what they call the thrill of victory?

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