Over the last year, I've repeatedly driven by a couple of Title Boxing Clubs that have popped up around Dallas. Each and every time, I think to myself, "Self, you should get thee to kickboxing."
... and so, after a year of excuses, second guessing and even a little bit of whining, I talked a friend into going with me to try it out over the weekend.
Needless to say, I barely survived. It turns out that I suck at kickboxing.
A one-hour kickboxing class complete with boxing gloves and punching bag. And a whole lot of out-of-shape Julie. If ever I needed a rude awakening to the fact that I'm not even close to being in the shape I was in three years ago... well, consider me wide awake. Yikes.
Between the burpees, medicine ball crunches and planks, I'm honestly surprised I can even move. Yesterday... I was 5 percent mobile. Maybe. That may be overestimating it a bit. It was bad.
All that said, I'm fully aware of the task ahead of me now. I have a lot of ground to make up in the quest to find my inner athlete. Again. I'm frustrated... but motivated. And dedicated. And all the other stuff that makes people succeed.
PS: I'm not going back to kickboxing for awhile. Getting to see my breakfast come back to say 'hi!' not once but twice in one workout was plenty for me. Thankyouverymuch.
This time last year: