Three days later, I received a phone call from an unknown number. As the possibility of Lucy some how escaping Plant Ave to explore the city is always looming, I always answer an unknown number, just in case.
Voice on the other end: "Hi is this Catharine?" (He pronounced it Cathreen.)
Me: "Yes, this is CathArine," I replied a little too pretentiously.
V.O.T.H.E.: "Just wanted to let you know that you won eight days and a free personal training session!"
V.O.T.H.E.: "This is Lawrence, remember? You signed up to win a package at Abigale last Sunday. And we drew your name."
After a little more clearing up, I discovered I won a short membership to the local UFC Gym. I pretended as though I had a blank moment when I answered the phone, as I didn't want to admit that 3 bottles of champagne had erased it.
I like to exercise regularly, normally at my home. Shawn T and I have an intimate relationship in my living room. I was a little hesitant, but overall pleased to use this eight days at a bro gym filled with Affliction shirts and Von Dutch hats. Hey, it's free!
So, I attend the gym. It's massive. And it has more than everything. I go every day for the eight days and take a number of different classes. And, as it turns out, it's not as Affliction filled as I anticipated. And I guess Von Dutch died in 2000. Probably about the same amount of bros as any gym, as well as an equal amount of people who take selfies in front of the mirror.
When the time came to use my scheduled personal training session, a technical mistake had been made, and the assigned coach was not available. So, they found a trainer with some time and matched us.
Trainer: "Alright, what kind of workout are you looking to do today?"
Me: "A good one."
Trainer. "Okay. We can do circuit and cardio training if you like. But, I'm also a certified MMA instructor."
Me: "I don't want to be punched in the face."
It was here the trainer proceeded to explain how level one striking and Muay Thai works. He told me I wouldn't get punched in the face and it would be a good work out.
Me: "Fuck it. Let's do it."
After 10 minutes of elaborate wrapping and gloves, I was in the striking cage. I was learning strikes, kicks, combos, and defensive moves. I was sweating and concentrating extensively while hurling my limbs at a series of pads.
Turns out, I really enjoy punching things.
Not to mention the incredible workout that ensues. And stress relief. My brain is working so hard on memorizing combos and mirroring movements of my sparring partner, that my body can't recognize it's even tired.
Level 1 Striking Class
Also, my easily bruised skin and dainty hands quite literally took a beating. I was trying to rinse off dirt from my leg one day, but it was a string of bruises.
|Swollen and bloody knuckles are attractive, turns out.|
I went back for another class, and ended up staying for two to educate myself a little more.
So, I'm now I've committed.
It's goin' down.
Thanks for soundin' down.