First day back at the bag

With the sun back in the sky and love in my heart, I was today able to finally get to kickboxing. I knew going into it that I'm not in the shape I once was, that I'm not as strong or as svelt. It's not that I've been scared to go back to class, but there were always excuses — usually decent ones, in my defense, like illness or injury, but also weak ones like not enough time or feeling tired —that I wrongly convinced myself were worth listening to.

But today I set an alarm for an early class so that I'd make it to at least the afternoon class, and made myself go. There weren't very many people there, only 7 plus the instructors. One of the instructors and all the attendees were strangers to me, but I instantly fell into the groove of warming up, smiling through side plank, and feeling thankful for the relief of mere jumping jacks. By the time we got to our first round of jab-cross, I was already tired, but excited to be back at the bag again.

What surprised me was how tired my legs were after the warm-up squats and lung jumps. Typically my legs are incredibly strong and even after an hour round of kickboxing, they're still ready to ride up some Pittsburgh hills or at least take the dog for a long walk. My legs were shaking. When we started kicking, I dug deep into myself and found saved energy even though parts of me wanted to crumble into a ball and lay there for dead.

Between every other round, I ran to my water bottle, my throat dry and desperate for water. "How does everyone feel?" Coach Jenny said as the bell rang after three hard minutes of uppercuts. "Tired!" I shouted back. "Good," she said, "that means you're doing it right."

Strange fact about me: I have a series of situations in which I imagine almost everyone I meet. One of those is in an attack situation. How they'd try to attack me, how I'd counter-attack. I always prided myself on my strength, but moreso my stamina. As class went on, I felt myself losing power like a battery, each punch and kick a bit less powerful, less quick, and each block a bit less accurate. I was disappointed, and again dug deeper to find that person I know I can be, who can fight through pain and come out kicking and punching and screaming. At speed round, I pushed all my pain, all my weakness to the back of my brain and charged at my bag with as much speed and speed and strength as I could muster.

I know I have to keep going to kickboxing class. I want to get back into the shape I was before I dislocated my shoulder. It was over a year ago, but it through my training regimen off so much that it's been difficult to find a new rhythm. I'm thankful I have a place to go that pushes and supports me, and that's always there when I'm ready to dive back in. I look forward to Thursday, and I hope I don't sabotage myself and miss class for some dumb reason like I'm scared of the pain of realizing how weak I am. I already realize that, so the only thing I have to do is face up to it.