Three times in one week was all it took to get me hooked. I was sore, had lost at least 1/4 lb in sweat alone each time, had developed early signs of carpal tunnel syndrome, and I had never felt better in my life. I'm now addicted to that boxing bootcamp class.
I fiercely compete with myself in there. I watch myself: my form, my face, my breathing, my sweat patterns, my jiggly parts, my less jiggly parts. When I'm in front of the bag, I disregard the reality that I may look like a hot mess, I'm not the most fit person in there, I'm not able to do everything completely or perfectly. I just compete to be better than I was the class time before.
My goal is to be able to complete that class without stopping before the instructor tells us to. He gives plenty of breaks, but the sets of intense activities seem to go on far longer than my body wants to do them. For example, squat jumps, push ups, heavy punching and dive bombers seem to last more seconds than I can push through. But I'll get there.
I'm obsessed with the competition between me and myself in this class because it's one of the only ways I have the time and ability to express my competitive nature right now. I've always been an athlete and competitor at heart, and I've often been able to live it out. During this phase of having small children, having limited child care (and not wanting to put them in preschool for personal reasons), and being a homemaker, it's been difficult finding something to compete in. But this class has given me a small taste of that feeling again.
And it hurts so good.
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