I went to kick boxing.
I drug my little pocket pal (she is 5 ft. and 100 lbs. soaking wet) Kim. Probably not happily, but she went. That is what good friends do. Good friends will endure physical pain....just cause you asked them too.
I was just sure that the boxing instructor would tell me I had natural boxing skills. That I should be in the ring. You know, make it a second career. Me, the next Layla Ali.
But he did laugh. A lot.
I am glad I can laugh at myself or I would have been offended.
Did I mention this was at a real boxing gym? Not some pansy posh gym.
It reeked of sweat and dirty feet. Blood and tears. At least the dirty feet part. And sweat. Lots of sweat.
There was even a boxing ring in the corner. Punching bags along the wall. Jump ropes and gloves. It was the real deal.
It scared me.
The instructor was the x-boxer type. He had guns (on his arms) and a little of a beer belly. So how bad could a guy with a beer belly be right? Uh, bad....really bad.
He said we were concentrating on legs.
Lucky for me, I walk everyday. I do hills. I am the cardio queen. I can handle this. That is what I thought.
We started with tons of lunges, squats and kicks.
I looked over at Kim.
She told me she was Bruce Lee. She was doing her best impression.
We were laughing and having a great time. Cutting up and doing Karate Kid bird impressions with our mad ninja kicks.
Then the mood dramatically changed.
We had to go back to our taped lines on the floor.
And the fun began.
We worked on intense kicks, squats and footwork.
Shuffles and food changes. Kicking the same leg for what seemed like hours. Except is was minutes. I think my legs went numb.
I looked over at my pocket pal. She didn't look happy anymore. I think I blacked out.
I began hallucinating and talking to myself.
Dear God in heaven,
If I die, please make it quick.
I guess I said it out loud because the instructor said:
You won't die.
You will pass out before you actually die.
Gee, how reassuring.
I hope you know how to resuscitate a dead person.
He just laughed.
He thought I was kidding.
After an hour and 15 minutes of torture we were dismissed. My legs felt like jello.
And for the next 3 days I couldn't walk or sit without crying.
I guess I got my $5 worth.
Kim texted me the next day and said an old lady with a walker had lapped her at the Wally World.
I can finally walk upright again. I hope my friend can too.
You would think that would be the end to the kick boxing. But, I kinda liked the torture. I'm kinda crazy like that.
So I think I will go back.
But, I think it may be by myself. Kim no likey kick boxing!
We are smiling now and acting all tough because our legs are numb!