24 1 / 2012

Have taken the infatuation I had with my Body Combat class at the gym to an all out love fest via personal training sessions at a Boxing gym nearby. I never even knew the place existed. It’s small, with more punching bags than people & quite the collection of inventive fitness materials. Think sledgehammers, monster tires, and enormous ropes. Found out recently that it was started by someone who struggled & came into his own via the sport itself. Wanted to provide reasonably priced training for those of us who derive great pleasure from beating things down. Fighting back, if you will.  It’s been about a month & the busted knuckles are finally healing up from my first rounds with open palm gloves on. Since then, I’ve acquired my very own pair of closed palm Everlast gloves (which were not easy to come by-the fellow at the store had a hard time believing I didn’t need Youth gloves and then, that I didn’t need pretty pink women’s gloves) that I can only put on and take off alone with my teeth. This is a classy sport.  But it isn’t really about that. All the minutes I spend there do my heart a world of good. I have figured some things out in the hundreds of punches I throw in those four walls. What started as an intentional distraction from things in my world I have no control over has taken a quick turn to a weapon for self-preservation. I only have to focus on my body. Where my fist lands, the way my foot pivots, where my weight sits and how much I feel it when I hit something. I feel it long after my session ends. Physically, sure. But mentally, too. My focus is strong & clear, my mood is bright & I’m inching right on back to the optimistic girl I once was. And, because I’ve paired this change with a switch to mostly natural foods, my body is changing too. I’m getting well, yall. All I wanted when 2012 began was for it to be its own year. I wanted different. I wanted better. Learning to fight has given me a path to that change, and I’m grateful.

Have taken the infatuation I had with my Body Combat class at the gym to an all out love fest via personal training sessions at a Boxing gym nearby. I never even knew the place existed. It’s small, with more punching bags than people & quite the collection of inventive fitness materials. Think sledgehammers, monster tires, and enormous ropes. Found out recently that it was started by someone who struggled & came into his own via the sport itself. Wanted to provide reasonably priced training for those of us who derive great pleasure from beating things down. Fighting back, if you will. 

It’s been about a month & the busted knuckles are finally healing up from my first rounds with open palm gloves on. Since then, I’ve acquired my very own pair of closed palm Everlast gloves (which were not easy to come by-the fellow at the store had a hard time believing I didn’t need Youth gloves and then, that I didn’t need pretty pink women’s gloves) that I can only put on and take off alone with my teeth. This is a classy sport. 

But it isn’t really about that. All the minutes I spend there do my heart a world of good. I have figured some things out in the hundreds of punches I throw in those four walls. What started as an intentional distraction from things in my world I have no control over has taken a quick turn to a weapon for self-preservation. I only have to focus on my body. Where my fist lands, the way my foot pivots, where my weight sits and how much I feel it when I hit something. I feel it long after my session ends. Physically, sure. But mentally, too. My focus is strong & clear, my mood is bright & I’m inching right on back to the optimistic girl I once was. And, because I’ve paired this change with a switch to mostly natural foods, my body is changing too. I’m getting well, yall.

All I wanted when 2012 began was for it to be its own year. I wanted different. I wanted better. Learning to fight has given me a path to that change, and I’m grateful.

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