Pandemic Kickboxing
What I learned from a six-week kickboxing challenge during a pandemic.
I didn’t know what to expect when I started a 6-week kickboxing challenge. Initially, I started punching the bag in late February, pre-pandemic, here in Chicago. I had been walking down the street in Wicker Park and got sucked in by one of those cute, colorful, chalkboard street signs: Join us for the six week kickboxing challenge! Amazing results! #6WeekKickboxers or something like that. I figured I’d check it out, as I was looking for something to supplement my exercise routine.
Low and behold, 1 hour later, I had signed up for six weeks of kickboxing, gotten the low down on nutrition guidelines and rules, given them $500, and purchased my first pair of gloves. As a coach myself, I was admittedly impressed by the level of accountability: three classes/week with mandatory Facebook check-ins, weekly pictures of groceries, weekly weigh-ins, and, when you complete it successfully, you get your $500 back. I was up for the challenge.
I was two weeks in when the city shut down due to COVID-19. Thus, six months later, I re-started the program in September — socially distanced, minimal class sizes, masks, temperature checks, etc…. I got in to a routine of driving the 10 minutes east to park in the same spot, to put on my mask, to cross the street, to get my temp checked, to wrap my hands, to put on my gloves, and to ultimately take all of my 2020 anxiety out on the bag. I had to admit, ILoveKickboxing.com had something going on — although the 90s URL in the name definitely left something to be desired.
As with any new endeavor, the first couple of weeks were challenging and, honestly, kind of sucked. Each class starts with 10–15 minutes of crossfit-style conditioning which includes really fun! things like burpees, star jumps, tricep push ups, tricep dips, mountain climbers, double bicycles, hollow holds, squats, lunges, and jumping jacks, to name a few. Just as you feel like you might literally pass out, the warm-up ends, and you get to enjoy 7 luscious minutes of stretching: read ‘stretching’ as practicing splits in all directions.
Then, we get to the rounds. My legitimately favorite part. Shoulders burning from the obscene amount of planks and burpees I just did, I wrap up my hands — which is, in and of itself, an art form — and slide on my gloves. The weight and cushion feels good on my fists. And we begin something like this:
Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross. Repeat.
Jab. Hook. Uppercut. Cross. Front kick. Repeat.
Uppercut. Uppercut. Cross. Head hook. Front kick. Repeat.
Jab. Cross. Jab. Hook. Roundhouse kick. Repeat.
Hook. Hook. Hook. Side kick. Repeat.
Jab. Hook. Roundhouse kick. Side kick. Swinging back fist. Front kick. Repeat.
It was all really intimidating at first, as someone who prides myself on my high-school varsity softball athletic ability, and who still often holds herself to that unrealistic standard, I was frustrated to find that I was incredibly awkward for the first six classes. Really, really awkward. I can’t even imagine what I looked like attempting to punch the bag, let alone muster the grace and coordination required for a swinging back-fist. But slowly, over-time, I got stronger.
I started to get my groove three weeks in — my jabs felt more powerful, and my roundhouse kicks were almost fun. My ability to retain the sequences, to not pause in between, and to do them in quicker and quicker succession also increased.
Throughout the challenge, I did resist the weigh-in every week. I was not there for the weight loss — it is not in my interest to lose 25 pounds — and as someone who has a disordered history with diet and food, I was not about to go down that rabbit hole too deeply. However, the scale they use also measures body fat %, and that was interesting to me. I was eager to gain muscle, rather than lose anything.
Six weeks later, I had successfully completed the challenge, and put my $500 towards a membership at the gym. I have gotten to know many of the instructors, and it started to feel like a community to me. I hope to continue it for a while, or at least until I get bored and find the next challenge.
In looking back through my six-week journey, it may actually be one of the first “challenges” I’ve successfully completed.
We live in a betterment culture — we’re consistently getting the message that where we’re at is not good enough, that we should look a different way, live a different way. Typically, these messages come with a call-forward to buy the latest gadget or smoothie plan that will help you achieve those goals.
Unsurprisingly, this usually doesn’t work. The smoothie plan you purchased on instagram will last a couple days, that new back massager will not relieve all anxiety, and, speaking personally, that cool new journal you bought will definitely not transform your productivity in an incredible way.
Naturally, I was skeptical when I signed up for this — mostly because I didn’t trust myself to follow-through on it. But I did.
So back to the title of this whole piece, what did I learn from it? A few things:
First, that accountability and external support is really important. My default mindset about almost everything is “I can do it on my own”. I pride myself in being able to figure things out, to deal with hard shit, and to honor my word. However, I often don’t give myself enough grace to realize how unrealistic that is — I need people. Not just socially, but I need people who will hold me to my word, call me out on my shit, and remind myself why I committed to the thing in the first place. And, of course, a financial incentive to get your money back never hurts.
Second, I am stronger than I think. It sounds cliché, but it’s true. Since the pandemic hit, I haven’t been making time to practice my strength. Pre-pandemic I was training with the incredible Rae Reichlin, and focused on getting stronger. During the pandemic, I admittedly fell off the fitness wagon, and my mental health took a toll too. Getting back in to training reminds me that it’s a space where I consciously channel my power — both mental and physical — and that carving out that space for myself on a regular basis is necessary for my own survival. I feel stronger, I feel bad-ass, and I feel more focused in all areas of my life.
Third, it has supported me in expressing a wider range of emotions. I am someone who is inherently conflict avoidant — I want everyone to be happy, like each other, say nice things, and be able to receive feedback graciously. (It doesn’t usually work out that way). As such, I also grew up not really in touch with all of those things myself, namely my anger. So, in a lot of ways, kickboxing has helped me channel my anger-on-purpose. To purposefully hit the bag fueled by emotion, to purposefully let out uncomfortable emotions during that right roundhouse, to purposefully fight at something that can’t fight back. And then, when I leave, I find myself lighter — I’m not carrying that energy around with me, and I don’t take it out as much on myself or those closest to me.
Finally, it’s a reminder of how much I’m driven by community. You know why the ridiculous amount of productivity journals I’ve bought never work? Because I’m doing them alone. I imagine if I was in a community of productivity journal lovers with accountability and financial incentives, it would probably turn around for me. However, in reality, I don’t actually give enough of a shit about productivity journals. I do give a shit about my own physical fitness and mental health, and as a result, I’ve learned to give a shit about punching a bag in a socially-distanced gym with instructors who push you and colleagues who are there for the same thing.
So, if you’ve read this far, I challenge you — what goals will you set? Who will keep you accountable? What level of community do you need to keep you in action? What do you actually give a shit about?
I imagine there’s something. Go get it.
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I am a filmmaker, entrepreneur, and life coach based in Chicago, Illinois. I’ve produced multiple feature films, co-created and currently lead an organization that is helping to re-shape the filmmaking industry in Chicago, completed a rigorous coach training program, made my first six-figures as my own boss at 27 years old, and supported hundreds of creatives in finding the resources and community they need to succeed.
