Sorr About the (Punching) Bag

What do you get when you give a stressed-out girl boxing gloves and a heavy punching bag? An endorphin-packed, stress-free, sore girl, that's what! Yes, folks, 'tis true. I joined a boxing gym. Are you startled or perhaps intimidated? Don't be. It's really rather silly. I mean really: stick a pale, chubby, sweaty, uncoordinated white girl in front of a punching bag with DMX blasting over the sound system and trust me, you'll be anything but afraid. Today was certainly the highlight. During my set of roundhouse kicks (did you giggle when you read that and think of Chuck Norris jokes? Because I ALWAYS do!), I had a slight case of clumsiness.

A correct and effective roundhouse kick (giggle!) involves pivoting, leaning into an uncomfortable position, extending your leg, pointing your toes, and making contact with the bag. I have no idea what a correct roundhouse kick (giggle!) feels like. I assume it feels powerful and I wish I could look cool doing it. Thanks to the mirrors lining the gym like a dance studio I have the ability to observe my "technique," and I would not name it anything synonymous with cool.

Well, today I finished my second of three final papers (the third of which is staring at me on my screen), and I was feeling pumped. I was apprehensive about the roundhouse kicks (giggle!), but today I was determined to kick the crap out of the bag. I wanted to do it right. I channeled Chuck. Sweat poured down my face as I ran the drills repeatedly. I wasn't doing it to impress the other people or the instructor - I was doing it to kick the stress out of my life and into the bag. I kept kicking and kicking, which made the bag sway and sway. I kicked like I never kicked before! Then, all of a sudden, I kicked too hard! In fact, my timing was off with the sway! When I kicked I didn't make contact! That's right! Kick and a miss! I missed the 150 pound giant black bag 10 inches from my face! Know what happens when you swiftly kick in an awkward position, barely balancing on your left leg, which, by the way, includes your bum knee? I think you know what happened next.

Not only did I miss the bag, I let out a yelp. Literally. A yelp. And then I fell to the ground on my elbows and knees. Thank goodness the floor is carpeted or else I would've slipped on my sweat and would've fallen on my face.

Know what the worst part was? NO ONE SAW IT! I seriously started laughing like a hyena to myself. During roundhouse kicking (giggle!) time. I'm pretty sure my kicking comrades saw me laughing while kicking and must have thought I was crazy. Because, let's face it. I kind of am.

(P.S. the title of this post is in reference to one of the funniest posts on 2birds1blog.com. Please read and enjoy. You're welcome.)