Kickboxing and Me

I tried my very first kickboxing class not too long ago and found out that Kickboxing and I don't get along.

My first mistake was attending a class at a nearby college. When one chooses to attend a high-energy exercise class with a bunch of college freshman, one can assume he/she will inevitably be the fat kid in class. Thus, my pride was somewhere trodden on the floor by peppy 18 year old cheerleaders doing their collective jump rope very early in the class.

After the grueling ten minute warm-up we moved on to something just as peppy and just as exhausting. I expected kickboxing to be kind of like violent jazzercise. Interestingly enough, it was more of a chaotic Tae-bo class. And just like the Tae-bo class I took in seventh grade, I still can't do bean bag punches without giving myself black eyes.

Let's talk about the instructor. She looked and acted like an ex-Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. She wore a headset (which was silly considering the size of room and number of students). She really enjoyed making the "Woo!" sound and saying "Come On!" as a means of inspiring us to keep going. She was very disappointed that we didn't "Woo!" and "Come On!" with her. Sorry lady, I'm just not that peppy.

After jumping and swinging my arms like a monkey for 45 minutes, I excused myself to grab some water. As I took a sip I thought, you know, I wouldn't be the least bit sad if I left right now (I should point out that I had done an hour of Pilates prior to the "Turbo Kickboxing" class). I mentally chastised myself for being lazy and went back into the class of bouncing children.

Shortly after re-entering, the instructor announced that it was time for the cool down. PRAISE THE LORD!! We went to the floor and immediately began what felt like a million mountain climbers. Anyone who has experienced mountain climbers knows that, by no stretch of the imagination, can they be considered a "Cool Down" exercise. I reminded myself for the 20th time that I would not be returning to this class. We then continued our "cool down" with 100 crunches and 50 bicycles. I now know that the instructor really had no clue what "cool down" meant.

After an hour of bouncing, kicking, hitting myself, cursing my spare tire, climbing mountains, and setting my abs on fire, I limped home (I considered it my "cool down") and swore to never go back again. And I haven't.

I'll stick to Zumba, Pilates, rock climbing, swimming, and running. I think that's good enough for now.