... by night, a former mild-mannered kickboxing student.
Last spring was rough. I was usually stressed out and on edge. Even when laughing and joking around, the slightest disturbance could send me off the rails. Most unsettling of all, I was always uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable with my coworkers, with my friends, and sitting alone at home. Eventually, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin and at some points with my own name. It was a weird time. After a while, I realized that this wasn't just going to go away on its own. I needed to do something.
That's when I joined a kickboxing gym. Obvious solution, right?
Rather than talk to anyone or try to work through my issues the usual, healthier, way, I pretty much just decided that kickboxing would fix me up. I thought it would be a good opportunity to relieve my pent up frustration and anger in a safe environment. Granted, it wasn't nearly as cathartic as that scene from Zombieland where they smash up the abandoned gift shop, but since there was no zombie apocalypse in progress at the time, that option just seemed way too cost prohibitive.
And as weird as it sounds, it totally worked. After the first few classes, I saw a significant improvement in my stress levels and overall happiness. I guess I just needed a suitable outlet.
|A very suitable outlet|
Kicking was easily my favorite part (even though kicking was my least favorite part of drill team). My legs have always been stronger than my arms (you know, like most people), so it always made me feel so powerful to round-house kick something in the face. Actually, that's not true. It always made me feel so powerful to round-house kick something in the torso-area. Every time I tried kicking the dummy (that we called Bob) in the face, my heel would catch on its shoulder and I'd fall backwards squeeling. My instructor called me a mouse because my voice would get so high.
High knees are also pretty fun, and proof that my years of dance can actually apply to less girly activities. When the coach showed me the move, he seemed impressed with how quickly I caught on. What I didn't tell him was that it was basically the exact same movement as the running man. Or maybe I did tell him... and maybe he didn't appreciate it. Whatever.
|These are the exact poses made when trying to teach Kirsten how to do the running man years ago.|
The best part is that I never felt pressured to spar with my classmates (or even asked, for that matter). I was strictly a no-contact kickboxing enthusiast, and I wanted to keep it that way. Kickboxing was a pretty fun time.
However, all good things must come to an end, right? You may have noticed my use of the past-tense. Well, since I started drafting this post months ago (yeah, I know I haven't been here in a while... work and my life outside of work have both gotten crazy busy), my kickboxing gym closed its doors for good.
Don't worry, though, before it closed, Lisa and I decided to get a couple Groupons so that we could continue working out together (I met her at kickboxing, and we made such great workout buddies that we couldn't let that end). Not only did we find a great deal at another kickboxing gym (that I haven't actually checked out yet because I'm terrible about procrastinating), but we also got a voucher for 20 Jazzercise classes (which I may have mentioned before!
|Here she is dutifully posing for pictures while trying to not laugh. She's the best.|
But seriously, who knew that Jazzercise was still a thing? I went to my first class thinking it would be fun dancing, kind of like Zumba, but then it totally kicked my butt. I'm loving it! I was kind of worried that after kickboxing ended, I'd return to my old funk, but I'm still feeling pretty good. Either I'm in a healthier, happier place than before, or maybe Jazzercise was just the ticket I needed!
|And it's got to be safer than kickboxing!|
Have you ever found an awesome gym only to have it close down? Did you ever actually make friends in a fitness class? Do you want to guess how many hot pink leotards I bought for my new Jazzercise classes?
Spoiler: it's zero.