• Muay Thai Girl

I Think You're Really Nice, Now Stand there Whilst I Punch You.

Updated: Feb 11, 2018




White Collar Journey - Part Two


Welcome Back! Or if it is the first time you've landed on my blog, let me introduce myself, i'm a fighter newbie, actually a contact sport newbie full stop, i've never been hit (Thank god for good schooling) I have never thrown a punch or ever really wanted too (except that one time in the que at Disney land, ironically in the que for 'it's a small world' which for anyone who doesn't know is the happiest ride in the park, it has singing dolls! Anyway another blog for another day!)


Back to business, in a moment of sheer madness I signed up for the Blood Fitness White Collar Event which will be held on June 17th 2017 and being a bit of a part-time blogger (and still in that crazy, mad phase) I offered to chronical my journey, with 100% honesty, so to save myself from any further embarrasement for now you can just call me Muay Thai Girl.


I love the atmosphere at Blood Fitness, it’s not pretentious in the least and everyone is willing to help out. Before the White Collar training started I once found myself in the middle of one of the ‘fighter’ classes.


I was well out of my depth as I stood there, part in awe and part terrified as I watched these amazing guys and gals throw, block and take punches, just as I was about to run – literally! This one woman walks over to me and asks if I want to spar. Having had no experience of hitting anything other than the pads at this point and being fully aware I was about to get my arse kicked I was apprehensive.


I needn’t have worried though, my new sparring partner took the time to take things slowly, teaching me where to stand and the etiquette of sparring (apparently, there is some), she let me hit her a few times which was much harder than I imagined and a barrier I was going to have to overcome. How exactly do you hit someone who is really nice to you? Without feeling like a grade A jerk that is? As my new found friend had been in the previous White collar group she knew what I was about to get into and confessed that sparring had been the worst part for her. She had dreaded it every week.


All this rings through my head as I sit behind my work desk on the Wednesday of our first sparring session and try to consider how I feel. I think I should be nervous but I’m excited, then it’s excitement tinged with nerves, nothing I feel is what I expect but I am not the wreck that I was told I would be and I am not sure that is a good thing.


All of us turn up for the first sparring session and everyone has the same look on their faces, what are we doing (Insert manic, crazy face emoji) Michael warms us up as we jump about doing push kicks and running on the spot followed by some Shadow boxing (I will come back to Shadow boxing as It really is worthy of its own post). Then we spar and the room seems to be filled with shouts of ‘sorry’, ‘are you ok’, sorry again as we all fumble to find a balance between power and technique. I get hit hard in the first week and given I am just over 5ft and everyone else is quite a bit taller my head makes a good target.


We mix it up, hands only sparring, leg’s only, the girls stick together and I wonder if we find it harder than the boys to separate sparring from our general feelings about each other... Are we going to be all bitchy afterwards or will we be grownups and leave the grudges at the side of the imaginary ring we have to play in?


I’m not sure what I feel after the first session, inexperienced, a little dejected? I didn’t know what to expect but I think getting hit anytime is going to make you feel a bit crap.


Sparring is an experience and I wonder if I’ll find it easier on fight night, I consider, if I along with the rest of the group are holding back? How aggressive can you be with a group of people who are meant to be your team? A team that ten weeks from now will all be fighting each other. I ponder this somewhat messed up situation as I head home and remind myself I have nine more weeks to go.

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