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| We're the ones your mother warned your about...No, seriously. We are. |
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Are you bleeding? Are you broken? Are you dead? Notes from a bi-coastal gym rat. One day, I saw a flyer for something called "Executive Martial Arts". Hrm. With my nocturnal work schedule, I could actually swing that one. Everyone was raving about Tae-Bo at that point, so I figured, what the hell, right?
Right. I walked into that class to find out it was basically an excuse for a bunch of multidisciplinary black belts to beat the crap out of one another twice a week. The word "trepidation" could have been applied to me at that point. But I was there, I might as well give it a try.
Let me fill you in on something right now. Anyone who's a martial artist or any discipline of fighter will tell you one key fact - they don't care. They don't care if you're a guy, if you're a girl, if you're Mr. Universe or the skinniest kid on the playground. They will still beat the crap out of you and not feel bad about it. Why? Because they expect that when it's your turn, you'll do the same to them. It's expected. This is sink or swim at its finest, ladies & gentlemen. And to my surprise, I found out I was a decent swimmer.
While at the time I lacked in cardio endurance, I've always had two things in my favor - decent flexibility and an odd brute strength. Turns out that in fighting, that's a damn good start. I couldn't walk across a room without tripping over my own feet, but I could do a three-punch/two-kick combination no problem. I learned how to use a quarterstaff, and two months in, I could defend myself in a knife fight. (For those of you wondering - they use rubber knives to train you for that one.) It's like there's a switch in my brain where the coordination gets turned on and off. I can't make it through a party without spilling something on my clothing, but I picked up throwing knives in about ten minutes. To this day, I have trouble completing a flight of stairs intact, but if it involves combat, I'm not only there, I'm good to go.
With that in mind, I decided to brave an aerobics class (or "group exercise" as is the appropriate term now), and showed for Cardio Kickboxing. I did it! And I did not die! This is progress!
Three weeks or so after I'd added the cardio classes in, the strangest thing happened. Turns out the instructor was actually the director of the aerobics program at Amerisports, and she wanted to know if I'd be interested in teaching kickboxing. I believe my response was, "Um, shouldn't you ask someone less, well, me?" Despite that, I somehow ended up with a certification to teach kickboxing, and off I went, now armed with some iota of what I was doing and a free gym membership since I was now...an employee?
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Because I can bench press you, that's why. Street Cred - What Keeps Me On The Cardio Machines - |