Pow! It feels so good to punch that bag, to whack it with all you've got, to sense the tingle in your arms and the excitement and energy in your whole body. The balance of completely letting loose yet feeling focused and in control is amazing.
I love kickboxing. So what if I'm a girl? I look forward to starting out my day every Monday, Wednesday and Friday with a refreshing kickboxing workout in my Duke PE class.
I drip with sweat, I ache, and I ask myself during those last couple push-ups, "Why am I doing this?" But it feels great.
No more coming to class groggy-eyed and weary, aching to crawl back into my warm, snuggly blankets. I am up and ready to go. Energetic, inspired, optimistic, alive.
Whatever the world has to offer me, I am ready for it.
Another perk of my slightly unusual hobby is that it allows me to force others to think outside the box.
I enjoy witnessing other people's reactions to my big, black gloves. Riding on the bus with them always gets me quite an assortment of interesting looks.
First, there is "Mr. Abercrombie-boy." His skeptical expression says, "Any chick who boxes must be a feminazi or a lesbian." And then there's always the girl with the Kate Spade bag who crinkles up her nose with a looks that says, "Gross, is that sweat?"
One morning, as I clambered up the steps of an East-West bus, the driver, a cheerful fellow with a rich Southern accent, took one look at my gloves and asked me brightly, "Do you have a boyfriend?"
I flashed him my pearly-whites and replied, "Nope."
He chuckled, pointed to my gloves and retorted, "Well, I can sure see why!"
I forced a weak smile. "What did he mean to imply?" I wondered to myself. "I engage in an activity that makes me less attractive? That I must be dominant and bossy and aggressive? That it's not feminine for me to feel strong and secure?"
I crossed my brows, folded my arms over my chest and thought, "Gee, what an annoying jerk." Now, however, I realize how funny the story is and smirk to myself whenever I think of it.
There is something so refreshingly delightful in not meeting people's expectations, in breaking free from what you are supposed to be, especially when you have spent too much of your life being what you were supposed to be and doing what you were supposed to do.
As the daughter of United States diplomats, I was supposed to be a proper, cultured young lady. I played the flute, and took ballet. I painted oils and watercolors and learned French. Sports never came into the picture.
Now, I want to determine who I am and what I do. Kickboxing is something I like to do. I'm not great at it, I just enjoy it. It doesn't define me--it's part of me, but not all of me.
It's my way of staying fit and feeling happy and strong. And if it doesn't fit into people's ideas of me and what I am supposed to be, all the better.
Sometimes I may be a proper lady and sit with my back straight and legs crossed, sometimes I may wear cute, little sundresses, and sometimes I might even pick up a copy of Cosmo to amuse myself while waiting at the airport, just like a "typical Duke girl."
And sometimes the typical Duke girl likes to kickbox.
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