Fitness, Humor, Life

Back to Basics: Boxing

I was so nervous I could barely hear myself think. The long drive didn't help. But here I was, standing inside. Freaking the hell out. The last time I took a boxing class was a year and a half ago. Here I was watching people skipping rope and me getting pissed off that I didn't have time to change shoes. 

New gym jitters. I hate them. Everyone does. I mean how many times do you start a new gym and it feels like you're in your own hell? When I travel I make sure there's a gym and acting like I own the place only goes so far. This was a legit boxing gym. The class I was in is technically for beginners but they focus a lot on conditioning. Which I desperately need. 

After we skipped rope for what felt like an eternity, it was time for more conditioning. Or what I call, torture. And not the treadmill kind of torture. But stairs. I... fucking... hate... stairs... LOATHE them. They're right up there with running. Pure evil. Anyway, something happened. One of the guys, because hey I was one of the only girls in there, was like "you're doing awesome!" 

I stood there in awe of this guy, who has no idea who I am, telling me I'm doing awesome. I've met this kind of camaraderie before.

At the worst race of my life. The Spartan. Where I met the amazing Corn Fed family. This guy was super nice and incredibly helpful.

Death by stairs felt like it was taking forever! Shortly after was more conditioning. Shuffling in the ring. Which, great! Something I know! WRONG!!! I swear that timer never fucking stopped. My thighs were burning so much that my legs were like yeah, we're not moving anymore. 

Ring time was over, now it was battle ropes and toe touches. Followed by ladder drills, shadow boxing with one pound weights. Which by the way, don't knock it till you try it. Holy burn! Med ball squats and lunges. Things I actually enjoy doing, they made me hate them. Especially battle ropes. Oy. A week later and I'm finally getting the feeling back in my arms. 

After the horrible introduction it was finally time to do something that I know. Hitting shit. A bag specifically. In a tiny cramped little corner, I shared a bag with another guy. It wouldn't be horrible if my stance wasn't so wide. Lesson learned, go for a different section of the frame. The thirty seconds of pad work left me feeling great. That spending a year focusing on form, mastering one punch at a time, worked. 

When we were done with the bags, it was time for a quick run. Which I happily accepted the use of a treadmill instead. Which lasted about thirty seconds since I needed to sign up for the classes. 

I know, it sounds like the shittiest gym situation. It was horrible. I was out of breath and worse of all I needed to use my inhaler, which I hate using. But in the end I totally fell in love with the gym. The coaches there are amazing and they are definitely one of the best boxing gyms in Chicago. After being insanely nervous, I felt right at home. Seriously can't wait for my next class. 

Kristy Kronas is a Writer, Photographer, and Certified Personal Trainer in the burbs of Chicago. She is a single parent and author with a children's book almost finished! She has a passion for lifting, boxing, kayaking, and a hatred of running. If you have any questions, comments, or just want to say hi, shoot her an email!