I arrived to the class right on time, which means the room was packed and I had to wedge myself into a non-row somewhere in the middle towards the back. I wondered if anyone would kick me in the face in the crowded room, what with me not in a real row and all. Oh well. I was taller than the other women, so they'd better watch their faces with these 34-inch inseam legs shooting around me like a death star of kicks.
Then I noticed the spazzy woman from the stairs hustle herself up to the raised stage for the instructor and I realized it was my ADHD kickboxing instructor. The woman is thin and wiry, with thin and wiry muscles. She is also a spazz the likes of which I've never seen. Not only does she play fast music, she turns up the rpm so all of the songs sound as though they're being performed by Alvin and the Chipmunks.
I haven't been doing cardio kickboxing long, so I still haven't got all the choreography down right. Plus, it's an advanced class which means it's more choreography at a super-high rate of speed. When I watch the instructor throwing punches "up to tempo" her arms whirl so fast it is a blur.
Then I start to snicker.
Cardio kickboxing is one of the most ridiculous activities I've ever witnessed. How did anybody come up with it? It's like the bastard child of boxing and aerobics. Did anyone ever really want or need to see boxing, only faster? As I try to keep up with jabs and uppercuts on speed, double-double, double-up, single, upper-cut, jab, roundhouse, repeat, threepeat — I can't help but laugh at what an oddity we are. If you were watching a YouTube video without the sound you would immediately post it on your Facebook to LOLZ with your friends.
We look like a bunch of insane ladies amped-up on amphetamines, doing some sort of psycho speed boxing dance routine.
And what is this training us for, anyway?
What a useless activity, if you think about it. I'm not getting any applicable skills from the class. I won't be able to kick anyone's ass in the real world because I can do a choreography of kicks and punches to the tempo of Alvin and the Chipmunks singing "It's Raining Men."
If I encounter a thief in my house, what am I going to do? Run up to him and turbo rabbit-punch him in the shoulder?
"Hey!" he might say. "Quit it! What are you doing?" as he holds up his hands and looks at me wide-eyed, a flurry of soft-thudded baby punches landing on his shoulder, followed by some rapid-fire soft thuds in his hip from my not-so-high kicks.
"Don't mess with these fists of flurry!" I might say as I air pummeled him.
I really should be taking a real kickboxing class where I can kick and punch someone or something for real. At least that wouldn't feel quite so silly. Honestly. A bunch of women pantomiming boxing moves to frenetic high-pitched music?
Who thought of this?
I will say this, however. I do leave the class covered in sweat. I won't work out this hard for 60 minutes by myself. I hate cardio. I find it boring. I love to lift weights and pump iron, to do push-ups or pull-ups, but jumping around for an hour by myself on a treadmill or elliptical machine bores me to tears.
And despite all my mockery, I do enjoy air punching the shit out of all my mortal enemies. So don't mess with me. I will hyper-punch you one hundred times, and though my fists are not accustomed to hitting actual flesh, I'll have the endurance to hit you softly for a very, very long time.
Which may start to hurt.