That Hook


I’m not sure if any of you watched Pain & Gain. I did. I laughed. I loved Dwayne Johnson. His accidental-criminal-crack-fed-Jesus-loving-jock of a character was adorable. What drew me to the movie, except Marky Mark and all the extravagance of a Bay movie, were the fitness inclinations of the characters. Fitness is a religion. Especially in LA.

But I digress.

I took up boxing two months ago. My trainer, an ex-boxer and a fitness machine, doesn’t take no for an answer. He doesn’t believe in limits of the physical form. The first day we started off with over 200 squats (the kind where you squat below the knees), a 2 mile jog and enough toe taps to make up for the last decade. This was just the first day.

The first day.

Thereafter, every day was like skydiving without any gear. Everyday, I would want to quit. I can’t express in words how creative I got with excuses in my head. OK. Maybe I can express them but I’m …ehem… mildly ashamed to. Despite my mental inclinations, I was so scared of missing a day and losing my motivation that I would drag myself for the next workout. It was pure torture. Pure. Unrefined. Insanity.

I wasn’t an athlete. Last time I was athletic for physical awesomeness was when I was in the 2nd grade. I remember doing track vaguely and not winning first place. I believe that’s when my fitness aspirations ended indefinitely.

‘The birthing process is tough. But it’s liberating.’ My trainer would say with enough vigor to move an army.

‘I’m dying!’ I would scream.

‘Yes you are. The weakness in you is dying. It’s been a while. You have to let it go.’

I think I was letting my sanity go. Along with self-respect. I looked like an idiot.

But, there was something I’m pretty good at. Persevering. Not to mention dreaming big. So I did just that.

One. Day. At. A. Time.

It was AA for lack of athletic ambition.

One. Day. At. A. Time.

It was a rehab for laziness.

One. Day. At. A. Time.

Somehow, two months later, I am sitting here with a pulled hamstring and painful knees. I am almost ten pounds lighter with visible muscles on my legs and arms (abs still need more work :P). The results of pure physical effort. More importantly, I can run for 8 miles at one go, out-perform guys on the Stairmaster and box without looking like an idiot. I’m more grounded and more balanced, something I had never experienced before (I was so light on my feet all my life that one poke would have lethal potential, especially when I was in heels).

Pain does result in gain if you have the ability to stay  (it doesn’t hurt to have a herculean trainer either). Today, despite constant soreness and random injuries, I feel like I can conquer any physical challenge given a good coach. That’s pretty sweet. ❤


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