The Pleasures of Getting Beat Up

I've never even seen this movie...but with my gloves on, I felt like a less jacked version of Hilary Swank.

As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve been having some knee issues again. I wish I could say that a month later the situation has improved, but unfortunately that is not the case. I have cut down on my running a little bit – instead of 45 minutes every day, I am doing 45 minutes just once a week, with about 30 minute runs every other day. I’m doing a lot of walking, and trying to avoid eating crap that will make me feel like I need to go run it off. But having bad knees does not mean my desire to push myself physically has just disappeared. Though I would love to do something else, I have kind of been stuck with running since indoor gyms are not really an option in France (they are rare, and the ones that do exist are way too expensive for a student) and it’s way too late to sign up for any organized sports. It is for this reason that when my crazy French boyfriend asked if I wanted to work out with him, I enthusiastically agreed. I wasn’t exactly sure what he had in mind, but since he said it was possible to do in bare feet and in his apartment, I assumed it had to be better than running.

First we started with skipping intervals: five minutes of jumping, two minutes rest then another five minutes. I forgot how tiring jumping rope can be, and was reminded after of my lack of coordination after nearly falling on my face three times. I ended up just passing on the skipping rope to him while I settled for jumping on the spot. After I was well warmed up and demanding he crack a window before I passed out, he had me on the floor doing push-ups. I pumped out a measly ten, which he seemed very impressed by. I was proud of myself too, until he dropped and did about thirty, with perfect form. This embarrassing defeat was followed by some anchored sit-ups (this means face-to-face with our ankles locked together) which he of course could do twice as fast as me. He finished off his death regime with a set of chin ups as he hung off the mezzanine in his apartment, while I flopped around on the floor attempting more push-ups. Overall, his warm-up left me sore and feeling like I had no physical strengths outside of my ability to long-distance run. And not only was he kicking my ass at everything, but he was doing it all with his perfectly sculpted arms, abs, and pecs…the things that on me are all hidden under a layer of womanly curves. Needless to say, I was feeling slightly resentful towards him.

This resentment ended up being extremely useful for the final activity however. From the closet he took out a bag of equipment for a sport I have never had the opportunity to try: kickboxing! After I had closed up the Velcro on my gloves, he taught me the basics: the proper stance, how to hold my hands, and where to keep my eyes. We agreed on no kicking since it was my first time, and I was assuming that he would go easy on me. However, after about a minute of fakes and little taps, out of nowhere he threw a blow straight to my nose. I was totally not expecting it. I had been under the impression that kickboxing was like dodgeball – generally, anything above the shoulders is out of bounds. I quickly discovered this was not the case though, and the next minute he got me in the side of the head. At this point I was fuming – not only was he a show off, but he just punched me in the head! All of a sudden I went nuts. I cannot say I was doing it completely correct, but I definitely got in a few good hits – including three or four to his noggin. I even slipped in some surprise hits to his sides that he was not prepared for. His encouraging phrase of “Bien!” every time I succeeded to hit him only made me want to do it more, so I did. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, though after about fifteen minutes I was done. I had no idea how tiring beating the crap out of someone could be, but I definitely think it is something that will require practice. Two days later, I am still sore from the workout that in total only lasted about 45 minutes. But it’s the good kind of sore…and personally, I feel it was a wonderful bonding experience. I would recommend (safely) boxing with your partner to anyone!