Last night, I took my very first kickboxing class. And we're not talking cardio/aerobic kickboxing, we're talking "Grab a partner and punch the shit out of their pads," kind of kickboxing. The "Let's incorporate some crazy P90X style moves" kind of kickboxing. And ironically, we didn't kick at all...not even once. Except for the swift kick in balls I wanted to give the instructor by the end of class.
There were at least 2 separate times I thought I might pass out and/or puke all over myself. But I didn't. I finished. My friend Jenny and I partnered up to beat the crap out of each other. Well, not really. We started strong, but ended with some wimpy punches. They were out of gloves, so at one point poor Jenny was punching bare-fisted.
There were about 18 people in the class. One guy, the rest ladies. The instructor was a male, slight potbelly, in his 50s? I laughed in my head when I walked in...not knowing what I was in for. But he kicked our asses. I think my breaking point was doing running step-ups on a tire, then doing partner-assisted sit-ups passing a kettlebell back and forth. That's when I started to feel the vomit rise in my throat. Luckily, I made it through without projectile puking on Jenny.
I can totally see how people lose a ton of weight doing kickboxing like this. Average calories burned is about 800. More than half my daily intake (I'm currently at 1200.)
Will I be going back for a second round of torture? You bet. Especially now that I have a partner. It would have been way less enjoyable without someone to bitch to. Plus, I paid for a Groupon and I have 3 glasses left. And I want my free gloves. I don't get them until next time. Free things motivate me.