I did the typical kid things growing up but I would never have considered myself athletic. It’s not like I joined a team or anything. Oh, wait…there was track but that was very short lived. I soon suffered from shin splints. Watching my little sister so Mom could go to work didn’t help either. School policy wouldn’t allow me to take her on the bus to our meets. My athletic career had ended before it had even started.

I didn’t mind though. No, I’d much rather curl up with a good book that transported me to another place. Even drawing was preferable to sports. Hence my career in publishing and graphic design.

Then I took up horseback riding and discovered that if you wanted to be more than just a passenger it required athletic skill.

Gasp! Whatcha talking ‘bout Willis?
Uh, stamina and core strength mainly.
Core what?
You know, engage those abs.
Abs? What abs?

Developing love handles? Check.
Thickening thighs? Check.
Six-pack? In the refrigerator. Check.

Yeah, harsh reality told me that I had to do something. Hmm, how about a women’s boxing class? Fun? Two weeks free? I lugged my 40 something body there and was introduced to boxing bootcamp. I left sore and gasping for breath. The following day, I couldn’t even walk up or down the stairs. (Ow, ow, ow…) Proof that extreme measures were needed. NOW!

Photo courtesy of Toby Wilson.

My current fitness schedule consists of boxing two hours a week. The classes are never the same but bootcamps can be brutal. Which brings me to Wednesday. Bootcamp! With a twist though. Each of us was expected to do a timed course. Then try to best that time. Uh, did I mention that I’m the oldest one in the class?

This was our course:
Run to the opposite end of the room and roll the black bag back.
Run back and roll the second black bag back.
Run 5 laps around the cones positioned at either end of the room. (huff, puff…)
Roll the black bag back to it’s original position. (feel that burn…)
Run back and roll the second black bag back. (can’t…huff, puff, wheeze…)
Go to the red bag and do 100 straight punches.
Lunge it back.

My time was 2.41. I forgot to lunge it back and lost precious seconds fixing it. A 20 something had the best time at 2.21.

The second time around was really, really hard. All the times were slightly higher, except mine. I blew it away and came in at 2.21!

Imagine that! I just might be athletic after all.
I can’t breathe but I’m athletic.


P.S. A guy watching the class said I had good form.
I can’t breathe but who cares. I’m athletic and I have good form!