Last weekend at the video arcade I got distracted by this game where bulldogs come out of a hole and you hit them with a hammer to score a point. Faith was too small to play so I had a go at it. And then another one. At which point while I was determinedly wielding the hammer with two hands and hitting the dogs with all my strength, my husband sauntered over and remarked, "I wonder who you're thinking of?" Honestly? No one. It just felt so good to hit something.
Which is probably the reason why I loved my boxing session last Monday night. It was around 6:30 by the time I was changed and the trainer (a short, rotund Visayan guy who insisted I called him Ferrer) wrapped my hands and put on whatever they called those mitts that you have to hit. And then I was in stress release heaven. This is what I've been looking for. Nothing I have tried before matches the sheer physicality of boxing. My mind was blank except for listening to Ferrer's instructions...jab, hook, straight...again...and again. He kept asking me if I was alright since he knows it's my first time. And I just kept nodding...the three minute intervals between rounds with 30 seconds of rest and a drink of water was ok. For the first half hour, at least.
The next half hour was spent rotating among the different boxing equipment. My arms already felt like lead, then he handed me a skipping rope. I was utterly conscious of the fact that I couldn't do the boxer type skipping rope thingie. So I skipped rope like a little girl does which was the only thing I knew. Hey, at least I knew how to skip rope, right? I couldn't look at myself in the mirror for fear of laughing hysterically at how ridiculous I looked while skipping. I had to stop at intervals to catch my breath...it was hot and I felt like I had sweat buckets.
It was during the mat work (for abs) that I thought I was going to die. Really. There were crunches while doing the bicycle with your legs, crunches for the obliques and about five other different types of ab related torture designed to wring the last vestiges of strength and energy you have. When we finally finished off with stretches, I didn't think I could drive the car to pick up the hubby. I had to sit down for 10 minutes because I was sure I was going to throw up.
So it's two days after the torture, my whole body still hurts and I can't even put on my bra without wincing. I have no idea how I can even do the rudiments but guess what?
I am going back there tonight.