I've been brainstorming some ideas for recurring themes that I can write about, because honestly just writing about what's on my mind will always come back to the same core circle of things. I obsess about a few things, and I want this to be relatively interesting.
So here's an idea I had - these always seem to be people's favorite "stories" that I tell. I'm not sure how embarrassing I'm willing to get, I'll probably leave out the sexual ones that seem to be a big hit. But that's for obvious reasons.
We'll start fairly harmless and talk about 90 of the worst minutes of my life and a time when I was definitely embarrassed.
Let's travel back in time, if you don't mind, far far back into the past. It's January 2008. Yes - we're going way back in time here. For some background, I'm just winding up with my poker "career". That coupled with a series of bad decisions has left me at a whopping 270 pounds. (For reference, I weigh 225 right now and I'm an out-of-shape walrus... so this was bad news bears)
This was just at the beginning of my insane spring last year when I went on to lose 60 pounds. I had already started some of my good habits, and was even doing the insane practice of going to 6AM spinning class about two times a week. But let's not lose sight of the fact that I am completely out of shape.
Cornell offers a Muay Thai kickboxing club. I figure, oh, what the hell, right? I love to watch the UFC and it's only a club. This will be a great way to get back in shape. I have a year of boxing experience so I know how to hold my hands the right way and throw punches the right way. This shouldn't be too bad, right?
Oh boy.
The first and only session I attended took place on a Friday evening. I showed up early and quickly noticed that the group of people who were filing in where NOT what I expected. I figured there would be some wanna-be toughguys with TapOut shirts on or something like that. Incorrect. Everyone there was rail thin - ranging from around 120-150 pounds. There was one guy who didn't fit this mold and was in really good shape and was around what I was expecting. In a dramatic turn of events, he was the only person there who didn't turn out to be a total dick.
A smarmy looking young gentleman named Quentin came over to me and introduced himself as the president of the club. He made me fill out some paperwork and it was time to train. But first let me say a few words about Quentin. Quentin was also on the polo team. He was about 6'2 and weighed about 130 pounds. And he was one of those guys who just LOOKS like a cocky motherfucker from the moment you see them
Quentin did not let me down.
So we start to "warm-up" and we're being led by Max. Everyone grabs a jump-rope and I expect this because this is what you do in fighting practice. As I previously mentioned, I'm terribly out of shape but I was still able to jump some rope. Well, jumping some rope turned into jumping rope for 10 minutes, and then 15, and finally 30 minutes. 30 straight minutes of jumping rope! That's an entire high impact workout in itself.
I'm just about dead on my feet at this point, but I keep going. Max signals for a brief stop and all I can think is "Thank God, I just might not die here today." 30 seconds later, he's like ok, here's what we're going to do. And he proceedes to jump rope 5 times, drop down to the floor into a pushup position, spring back up and continue to jump rope another 15 times. Excuse me, what?
I did what I would best guess would approximate what he did but my heart was silently whispering to me that it would not suffer any more of this nonsense without exploding on me. I didn't want to quit, because who wants to look like a bitch?
Anyway - I just went really slow while all of these super skinny cyborgs continued to kill themselves.
That passes and I'm doing ok. Neeeext up, abs. Ok, well this is never fun but at least I can catch my breath. Luckily, this was a team ab building exercise. You lock legs with your partner to support your base and each of you do crunches at the same time. Added bonus; you pass a 15 pound medicine ball back and forth between each crunch.
Can I take this opportunity to remind how out of shape I am? Oh, and my partner was Quentin.
Somehow I miraculously made it to 30 crunches. I told Quentin that I think I should stop and that I feel like I'm going to throw up. (True statement). While most normal people might consider the situation and allow it, that doesn't include Quentin. Without missing a beat, he's like, "What are you, a fucking pussy? Are you a man or are you a bitch? Quitting is what lead to you being so fucking fat in the first place. You're doing 50."
Ok, then.
I somehow did it. And then I needed some Mike time to hold my bodily fluids inside my body where they belong. Luckily, I did not puke.
Next up and final in the warmups? Pushups. Let me say again, this is ALL THE WARMUP. A one minute timer was set and we were supposed to do pushups nonstop for the entire minute. This is A LOT harder than it sounds. I think I did about two pushups. I spent the rest of the alloted time laying splayed out on the floor contemplating how glorious it would be not be alive at this very moment.
So then we do the kickboxing workout. Ha. At this point my kicks had the force of a 70 year old arthritic grandmother. But I was partnered with Max and not Quentin. Max was not a dick. There is nothing really to report here.
Finally, we had to practice some Muay Thai technique. Basically it was clinch work that included using and breaking the Muay Thai plum, which is a handgrip you use around the other persons neck. My partner, Quentin. One of the hold-breaks involved taking your hands and sticking them in the other persons face to break the hold. Quentin automatically jumps back and says, "Break, break, stop!!" I'm thinking, what the fuck? I didn't even touch him.
Immediately..."your hands fucking stink, dude. What's wrong with you? It smells like sweat." Blah blah blah blah.
I think I wanted to murder Quentin at this point, and if someone handed me a gun I would probably be typing out this blog post from a maximum security prison.
Practice winded down after that and even though I wanted to smash Quentin's head into the wall until he stopped breathing I slunk out of there so embarrassed that I hoped beyond hope that I never saw any of these people again (luckily I did not).
I slept the entire next day.
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