Today marked the second session of one on one high intensity boxing training.
I literally want to end this post there and go cry myself to sleep. ^
I won’t though, because there was value in today’s lesson.
So let me set the scene. After I dropped my daughter off to the gyms Kid’s Club, I made my way down to the back of the gym to drop off my bag and get my gear out and on ready for my workout as per usual.
My gym prefers to call itself a health club, so it has all these different rooms along side each other, but yet separate. One of these is set up for boxing/kickboxing and sits right in the middle of the club down some steps.
As I was walking toward the back I happened to notice a boxing bag wasn’t hanging in it’s usual spot and instead had been set up to sit on top of box jump mats (big black square things) and was leaning against the wall.
Hmmm that’s strange.
At that moment, my stomach dropped as I had a hunch that that bag was there for little old me…
But theeeen, oh yes, I spotted another trainer working with a woman who happened to move into the boxing room. I’m off the hook! I breathed a sigh of relief as I started my warm up and let the thought go.
Until Justin appeared with a grin and, I swear, jumping up and down with excitement, he hops over to the bag and smacks it before he tells me “This is for you! Have you ever done fireman’s carries?!”. Of course I haven’t done bloody fireman’s carries… I’m a stay at home Mum. But now that I think about it, this new technique may come in handy with a stroppy toddler.
We start training. Today’s agenda: shuttle runs, round after round of jabs, uppercuts and hooks and then it was time to address ‘Barry’ the boxing bag.
First of all, I could lift it. The problem was carrying it up steps and through the gym lobby to the front door then back down again. I mean, I did it and it was ugly and I’m preeetty sure I would have dropped it on the way back if Justin hadn’t ‘helped’ me.
Third round, because my shoulder was starting to tingle from an injury that comes and goes as it pleases, we adjust the carry so that I don’t break. Now it’s in front of me, which I found much easier. New problem though, I’m boxing and my hands are incredibly sweaty (coz I’m gross like that) and because it’s hot trapped in boxing gloves. The bag attempts to slip out of my hands but we get it back and up on the boxes to sit again.
This time having had to lend a hand so the bag didn’t drop out of my slippery hands Justin suggests switching the bag over to a barbell and weights. I agree and we load it up to the same weight. 60kg. No wonder it’s hard to carry. I’m carrying my teenage daughter around! (And as I type this I giggle because I can squat a hell of a lot more than 60kg. Carrying it around a building, people, and stairs on one shoulder is another story!)
We do more rounds of shuttle runs, boxing and lifting this heavy ass weight around the gym. He adds a basic burpee into the mix, just for fun. Ohh yay.
Can I add there’s barely any rest going on here.
Justin’s having so much fun torturing me he laughs when he spots me looking at the clock, counting down until mercy. In this moment he shouts out something along the lines of “You’re booked in for half an hour right? Let’s go for 45 minutes! Yeah? Come on! Let’s do 45.” At first (because he’s laughing) I’m thinking he’s joking so I’m just shooting him the evils. At second thought though, the smartass in me pipes up and says “Yep! You’re gonna give me a free 15 minutes? Let’s go!” Still kinda hoping he’s joking. “I don’t have any clients after you, so I can do it!” He responds.
So guess who got a free 15 mintues?
This gal right here.
I’m an idiot.
We finish the round and instead of grabbing my barbell off the rack he calls out to follow him. We run up the steps. Up to the door. Out the door…. Wait a minute, what? You’ve got to be kidding me! We’re still running. I suck at running. Everything already hurts. It’s heavy lifting week and leg day was yesterday. Still running (time slows down I swear) and we head out around the back of the carpark.
I want to yell out ” You better be running us to Wendy’s!” (Wendy’s is next door) but I hold back because I know my smart mouth will just get me into more trouble.
He takes me to the fence and we stop.
We must be close to finishing!
“Alright Chavah, you see all those pretty white lines?” I know he thinks he’s funny because guys don’t say things like “Pretty white lines.” I just silently give him the death glare as I try to catch my breath. He’s literally laughing as he repeats himself. His smile is as wide as his arms that he’s got spread open pointing at all the ‘pretty white lines’ in the carpark. “Shuttle runs to each one and punching in between. Let’s go!”
I can feel myself fading fast, who needs to breathe anyway? But I keep moving, albeit slower and slower. He’s realised how much I despise the run so across the carpark he calls out “If you run the rest of these, I promise we don’t have to run back to the gym, we can just slow walk.” “Thank f*ck” is all that goes through my head. Everything feels so heavy. I start running again and don’t stop until all the sets are done. It works. Bravo Justin.
Back to the boxing room. I’m finally allowed to stop. 2 minutes rest. Strangely enough I was ready to go before 2 minutes was up. Time for the final round.
We start with more pad work, 5 rounds, burpee and shuttle runs in between, over to the barbell, up the steps, through the gym to the welcome mat and back down again.
So why are we running out the door again?
Turns out the set included another round of carpark agony.
My legs are numb. They feel like logs I can’t lift because I can’t even feel them anymore. My punches are pitiful and I had to will my arms to move, mentally, 3 times before they would move just once physically.
But you have to finish. You don’t stop when you’re tired, you stop when it’s done.
Finally, I ran to the last white line.
Things that I learned during that training session:
- When Justin’s old training place did the fireman’s carries, the girls bag was lighter than the guys. I did the guys weight.
- No other female clients have been made to carry a boxing bag.
- Apparently everyone was staring at him giving him dirty looks when they saw him making me lift the bag/weights. I was too focused on surviving to notice anyone else but that sixth sense of ‘someone’s watching’ say’s this is true.
- The ladies at the front desk must have been worried about me because they stopped me on the way out and very seriously asked me if I was ok. (I’m actually very ok everyone hehe.)
So here’s my take away:
I asked to attempt fireman’s carries with ‘Barry’ again sometime down the track. Why? Because if it isn’t obvious by now I have a death wish… kidding. Because I want to conquer it. In life we all come face to face with challenges. I want to make what was once difficult, easy for me. This is something I consistently work at making a habit. From parenting techniques, new work projects, writing a blog, to training. I don’t like to feel defeated. So stay tuned friends, one day, hopefully soon, I’m going to Fireman’s carry the shit out of that boxing bag!
Watch this space.