My brother, who is an incredible athlete, poured his heart into boxing for some time (cough *11 fights undefeated* cough *state champion* cough) decided the best way he would help me gain my fitness/lose weight/improve my health would be to teach me to box. The process started slowly with a little boxing here and there.
I fell in love with boxing for fitness. And I had an incredible instructor. After a while, I was even developing some technique/skill. I slowly found myself watching boxing films, documentaries and whatever else I could get my hands on. For the first time in my life I enjoyed a sport and felt like I was alright at it (or so I thought).
Now I'd never really been to a gym or fitness class before and those of you who are unfit or over-weight will know how intimidating something like this can be. It had come to a time where my fitness was at a stage that I could do exercise a bit more independently. My brother (did I mention how incredibly supportive he's been...I get overwhelmed by everything he's done for me and have to send him lengthy grateful text messages every 3 or so weeks) came along to the first class with me so I 'd feel confident in the class. I certainly wouldn't have gone if he hadn't gone along with me that first time.
So then it came to going to the class on my own. I'd been to uni that day. I remember coming home and climbing in to bed and being overwhelmed by anxiety. It sounds ridiculous but I felt paralysed by the thought of going to the class without Paul and letting all these strangers see how unfit I was. When I had just about decided that I couldn't go to the class, Mum walked past my door and I burst into tears. She was lovely and supportive (as she always is, all gloriously and British and full of kind, calm words) and convinced me that it would be ok.
I pulled myself together and headed off to class. The girls at the door remembered me for being Paul's sister and greeted me with big smiles and the trainer running the class made sure I had a partner that would help me through the class. One class and I was hooked.
I still go to the classes 2 years on. It now has a new trainer, but the same friendly faces are still around and I still love the class as much as I did when I first walked in with my brother. But it got me thinking...if I love a sport this much, why not try and become the best at it that I possibly can. I told the trainer I wanted to spar and am now going to the same amateur boxing classes Paul used to and although it's all very new I'm very excited about boxing as much as possible.
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