The time has come once again to subject myself running ungodly distances at unthinkable hours of the morning and spending more time with a jumprope in my hands than would seem befitting for a grown man. For some reason, I’ve signed up for another boxing bootcamp at the Third Street Gym in San Francisco’s historic Dogpatch neighborhood. And by historic, I mean “pain in the ass to get to every morning at 6:00 am.” Last time, getting there was a snap because I lived just a few blocks away. Having moved literally across the city, I was hesitant about taking the plunge into this pugilistic pastime once again. I had a great time, and I could use the extra impetus to force my ass into shape. I have become rather indolent as of late, and my expanding waistline is a sure sign that I need to take drastic measures.
The last boxing bootcamp that I did was back in January and I’m looking forward to getting back in shape. The good thing about bootcamps is that I feel motivated to see the thing through. I actually feel bad when I miss a day. The fact that the punishment for absence includes a being thrown in the San Francisco Bay is also a strong motivating factor. The fellas who run the thing are pretty cool. They strike a fine balance between meaning business and pushing you during the boot camp and cracking jokes.
I am not a very good boxer. My arms are short and my rhythm is highly suspect. But on the plus side I find a good punch to the jaw an exhilarating way to start the day. I’m mostly in it for the cardio, although these things traditionally end with a public display of fisticuffs. I suppose I’ll have to lace up my gloves when the time comes.
In the meantime, I am sore and tired. Being reliant on Muni, I have to get up at 4:30 in order to make it down to the gym in time for the days boxing lesson. I’m having problems because there are no other buses for me to catch. Not only do I have to wake up stupid-early, I also have to lug my boxing gear with me (gloves, headgear, jumprope, Survivor cd) and my ridiculously overstuffed backpack with me, because I go straight to school afterwards. Then, when I am going to school I have to lug the same crap around with me all day. Lockers don’t seem to be an option, unfortunately…
But I’m not one to let some minor logistical annoyances get in the way of a good exercise regime, so it’s cups of coffee and early bedtimes for me. It seems like my life is either at the gym, the classroom, or the library right now. It seems that way, because it’s true. Two days down, 28 more to go.