On Sunday morning I woke up and realized that I had completely forgotten to run the NYC Marathon. This is like the 46th year in a row, a real streak.
“How much does the winner get?” my son asked and I made up some number, and now he’s training for the one in six years, when he’ll be 18. So far the training consists of deciding how he’s going to spend his prize money, but I think that’s an important first step.
Later that day we went to the Y. He wanted to shoot some hoops, cross-training, I believe it’s called in the lunatic fringe community, and I sat around and studied the YMCA catalog of offerings. If my son is going to be an elite athlete, I thought, shouldn’t I take a stab at something myself?
I quickly dismissed water aerobics (too wet!) and ballet (too Black Swan!) but when I saw Boxing class, I was sold. Because who doesn’t want to be the Million Dollar Baby? That’s a lot of money! (I didn’t see the movie, so no spoilers please!)
My first class was this week. In many ways, it was great. One of the ways that it was great is that I got to tell everyone that I’d soon be taking boxing classes and would probably be away a lot this summer because of the whole Olympics thing. Another way that it was great is that Wendi suggested that I should probably get satin shorts and there is no way that that’s not happening.
The ways in which the boxing class was not great was that I almost died while jumping rope and not just because I fashioned it into a noose and also because in the many jabs I had to ..er.. throw? deliver? one of them went into my own head. I could tell the coach was really impressed.
Also I made two potential pre-friends. One was a woman who apparently “drew the short straw” (whatever that means) and was therefore paired up with me and another guy who kept looking over at me and laughing. I’m guessing because he reads my blog and was remembering some of my wittier posts. Who knows.
I was sore during the class. I was achy the next day. Two days later I was considering a hip replacement.
But now that three days have passed, I can’t wait to go back.
If you need me, I’ll be floating like a butterfly, stinging like a bee.
One year ago ...
- Mama Is Upset - 2011