Surviving kickboxing and celebrating with cake

Posts have been incredibly light lately (okay, that’s an understatement), as I haven’t been climbing any rocks or taking shooting lessons. I can’t say that I’ve been lazy; I’ve joined a few organizations as a volunteer, started attending weekly meetings, been trying to eat and sleep better, and actually reading a little in my spare time. I even wrote my first guest post over at Enter: Adulthood! Oh, and I’ve also been preparing for my massive 13-day trip to Turkey in March.

Image from tripadvisor.com; soon I'll have some of my own pictures to show off!

But last week, I finally finally signed up for a 10-class kickboxing package with NOVA MMA in Courthouse and attended my first one on Thursday. I changed at work and forgot a shirt, so I just wore my pants and a cami. I also forgot to put in contacts before I left, so I was sweating with my glasses on – not a huge impediment, but noticeable. I went early to get help learning how to wrap my hands – and I felt like such a badass wearing them! Not so much with the gloves: they’re pretty clunky and tough to get used to. Not to mention how difficult it is to do push-ups while wearing them!

Try it sometime.

I’d describe the class as fun-ish; it’s definitely challenging (and so pretty rewarding to survive!) I hadn’t realized just how out of shape I was. I was tired and sweating after the first 20 minutes; by the end of it, my muscles were just failing. We had two short breaks during the fifty minutes to grab water, but the rest of the time we were moving: push-ups, situps, punches, kicks, cherry-pickers, mountain climbers, etc. I was so tired, I could barely walk to the metro at the end to rush home and get ready for dinner plans (a horrible mistake in planning because all I wanted to do was lay in bed).

Luckily, my friends and I were off to Texas de Brazil in Fair Oaks Mall for a belated birthday dinner.

There was also a candle in my chocolate mousse cake! What a great (and amazingly filling) dinner

Getting 23 feet of air

Last night, I went indoor rock climbing.

It was terrifying.

But let me back up. Originally, I had attempted to make my way through the list starting with a shooting class. However, the NRA range was more popular than I expected. Indoor rock climbing was available multiple times a week right away.

I scheduled a Basic Skills class at Sportrock in Alexandria, a totally unassuming facility from the outside. I raced down 395 south to make my 7 PM Monday night start time (and got a little lost). On the drive down I was excited; when I walked in, my stomach dropped and I instantly texted my friend C. to ask what the %&$! I had gotten myself into.

And you can’t even see the ceiling in this picture. I gave them my waiver, signing my life away in a moment of what seemed like enormous stupidity, collected my rental shoes, and waited for my instructor to lead me to certain death from a high fall.

Note: I have a moderate fear of heights. Part of me realizes that this is a crazy adventure to start off with due to this, but the other part was too curious. Besides, they give you a helmet, a harness, and tie you to another person – how could this go wrong?

Only one other girl showed up for the class, which was fantastic for instruction. We started off by putting on the harness, going over how much weight a carabiner can hold, and tying our knots over and over until we had them as close to memorized as possible. My partner had climbed once or twice before, so she went first, and I got to anchor myself to the gym floor and try my best to keep her from falling. No pressure.

She made it to the top without freaking out, we got her down, and then it was my turn. And I am not ashamed to admit that I took a few breaks on my way up. My hands were sweating, I was clinging to a rock face, and I was being held in the air by another beginner! I didn’t make it to the top, and after I came back down, we moved to another wall. My partner, being tall and obviously more mountain-inclined than I, was able to Spiderman to the top of this one as well. I repeatedly fell off under the 10 foot mark.

Refusing to give up, our instructor took us to another wall. One that everyone could see and several very fit gentlemen had a full view of. If you’re thinking “this will stop her hands from sweating!” then you are horribly wrong. After 15 feet, my legs started to shake, my hands were slipping off the holds, and the hand and foot holds were getting farther and farther from each other.

However, I did – slowly but surely – make my way to the very top of the wall! Which my instructor told me topped out at around 23 feet. I climbed 23 vertical feet! For reference, wikipedia tells me that is higher than 2 stacked regulation basketball hoops. And I somehow lived to tell the tale.

Next up – taking suggestions for more adventures, the second part of my climbing class (if I dare!) and icing my sore and aching back.