punishing hour

i made it to boxing class. okay, so i knew i was out of shape. i knew that the efforts i began two years ago that led to me being svelte for a time were no longer in effect. i expected this class to be hard.

i didn't know i was so out of shape that i'd feel like i was going to throw up five minutes into the sprinting (up and back), push ups, foot shuffling, etc. "When do we get to the punching?" I wondered. Soon enough.

that wasn't too bad; i like the jab-punch-hook combo best, and found that it was equally easy with the left as it was the right (my dominant hand). i'm sure the punches didn't have as much power with the left, but it didn't feel awkward.

roundhouse kicks were awkward. i am, afterall, the most uncoordinated human being on the planet, but i managed to connect the side of my foot with the bag more than once.

i'd forgotten how pure exercise is, how single-minded it requires you to be when you're really in it. i had only two thoughts during the class: when is this over? and i don't think i can come back. Three thoughts if you count "i think i'm going to be sick."