At my last job, the woman who sat in the cubicle attached to mine used to spend all day on the phone...having loud phone sex. I knew more about her underwear than I ever wanted to know about any underwear (lots of mesh thongs and animal prints). I also learned a lot about her anatomy and the anatomy of strangers. For example, there is a man out there named Richard who is not well-endowed (sorry, Richard). Ironically, for all her penis and undergarment talk, she was happily married to a woman - go figure. I was getting close to asking her to stop her sexually explicit conversations - or at least use her six-inch voice, but then I heard her on the phone with the police discussing how her cousin stabbed someone...I decided to purchase earplugs. Needless to say, I am ecstatic to now have Georgeann...and my own office.
Georgeann knows about my challenge to attempt a new workout every week. I asked her if she wanted to join me at a gym near our office, and she was totally down for some kickboxing. After work, we popped over to the gym to take our class.
In our minds, we were going to one of those classes where we would kick and punch at the air while rocking out to the latest pop hits. We were completely wrong.
We showed up to the UFC gym, and as soon as we walked in the door we realized our class was going to be very different from our expectations. There were tons of bags lined up and a boxing ring in the center. This made me a little nervous. Again, I really like Georgeann, and I was afraid that accidentally inviting her to a sparring match would put a damper on our blossoming friendship.
Luckily, we did not get thrown in the ring; however, we did have to wear wraps and gloves. Your first class is free at the UFC gym, but you have to wear gloves and wraps. They loan you gloves, but you had to purchase the wraps (so your first class is really $9.99). We purchased pink ones because nothing screams intimidation like two girls purchasing matching pink wraps. Bring it.
After we were all wrapped and gloved, we did a running warm-up with the rest of the class. We then started a number of punching and kicking sequences. We each got our own 150 pound bag. After a few punches, I knew that I was screwed. I bruise like a peach, and I was no match for the bag. The first time that I kicked the bag I am pretty sure a muttered (or bellowed) ouch. The trainer was incredibly nice and patient. He gave us a lot of helpful tips for "dancing with" the bag. Between each punching and kicking sequence, we did 30 second cardio bursts, such as burpees and jumping jacks in the push-up position. One of the cardio bursts was a break dancing move. I don't know if the break dancing move was new to the class, or maybe there is just no way not to look absurd attempting to break dance in boxing gloves, but that move gave me a good laugh. At the end of our sequences we were able to free style. This just involved punching the bag and hopping around in circles (at least for me).
We ended the class with some sprints and 10 minutes of abdominal work. We did a series of ab exercises in 20 second increments. It was tough. The trainer kept making jokes about how he made people vomit with his workouts - the joke became less and less funny as the ab workout continued, but probably only because I started to suspect that it wasn't actually a joke, but a warning. I was really longing for my pop hits and sweet air kicks by the end of the class,
The workout was intense and enjoyable. Georgeann and I both commiserated over our sore arms the next morning. It was challenging and definitely different. Will I do it again? Doubtful. It is a bit expensive, and at some point I think the goal is to graduate into the boxing ring and this soft peach has no interest in that end game.
I am really glad that Georgeann is still speaking to me after our adventure. Thanks, Georgeann! You are a great sport. I hope we can wear our matching wraps to the office holiday party.
