I am still feeling a little sickly, but I am determined today to do something martial art like. I decide a 45 min aerobic kick boxing class may fit the bill. Plus, I can leave early if I want to, classes at my gym are always packed and no one will notice if I slip out early.
The teacher gets us started with some music. We bounce our weight from foot to foot while we perform jabs, crosses, hooks and uppercuts to the music. The beat is too fast to really worry too much about form. I miss about half of the cues and generally look a little like I am flailing my arms around in sync with the music rather than performing any kind of real punch.
This class is full of my people, white bread suburban moms who have dropped their kids off at the built in babysitter before class. The woman in front of me and the instructor look like they are pretty serious about this being a boxing class and really seem to be putting some heat into their punches, but they are a minority. Most of the class looks like they are trying to punch their way out of a paper sack. I feel like my form and power are even more subpar than they were at the first gym, but I am more comfortable because there are too many of us to allow anyone to focus on my form and there are some that are much worse off than I am. I am a little smug, until I miss a cue and have my foot catch on my pants as I pivot and sweep my own leg out from under me. I rebound off the floor with my face burning and glance around and realize several people TOTALLY saw that. Super.
By the time the class ends I have worked up a good sweat. I am not convinced that the class would teach me how to actually hit anything, but all the shuffling around and bouncing might help me get enough cardiovascular strength to make it through a fight and teach me to be a little lighter on my toes. Maybe with practice I could even get through a class without tripping myself.
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