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   Hooked on boxing

In my search for an aerobic exercise that I might enjoy, I became hooked on boxing. I thrive on the competition, whether I’m going for a new personal best while hitting pads my trainer holds up as targets, or fighting a succession of “opponents” on Nintendo’s Wii. Those Internet rumors that I have challenged Muhammad Ali to a fight, however, are greatly exaggerated.

For me, it’s all about wearing the red boxing gloves. Then, too, there is the emotional release that comes from a little visualization while throwing punches, and the comfort of knowing my trainer won’t hit me back.

Anxious to expand my boxing for fitness regimen, I arranged to visit the Rock Steady Boxing for Parkinson’s program in Indianapolis. The instructor — a 20-something, professional boxer and proponent of “tough love” — had other ideas for me. She told me to “get taped up” and join the group for calisthenics. The fact that I wasn’t wearing gym shoes didn’t phase her one bit.

The calisthenics went fairly well with a few notable exceptions. Jumping jacks, which I once found easy, now seemed impossible to do. My arms moved fine, but my feet never left the ground. I vowed to work on these when I returned home. Jumping rope required more coordination than I had even in my previous life so I didn’t even try. I was sentenced to ride the recumbent bike instead.

Next came lateral walking in the ring

“Where’s the door?” I asked. The instructor lifted up the top rope and motioned for me to crawl under it.

I was surprised to find the floor in the ring to be soft and squishy. This made lateral walking even more challenging. When I tried to share my observations with the instructor, she told me I was there to walk, not talk. My charm was wasted on her.

My legs were like rubber by the time I crawled out of the ring. An assistant took pity on me and held a cup of water to my lips. “You’re just a visitor,” she said. “We don’t want you to get dehydrated.” I thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t a regular.

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Hitting the bag

The fun was just beginning. My next assignment was to hit a heavy stuffed bag suspended from the ceiling. I had no idea these bags could weigh up to 100 pounds, and I’m sure mine did. As hard as I punched, the bag barely moved. The instructor told me to hit harder, until my shoulder burned. Too late for that, I told her, it already felt like a five-alarm blaze.

Hitting the speed bag didn’t go any better, even though it was much smaller and lighter. It was supposed to bounce backward and rebound toward me every time I hit it, which was never (not while it was in motion anyway). My best showing came when I boxed a lifelike dummy fondly nicknamed Parkie.

By the end of the 90-minute class I was both exhausted and invigorated. l Ieft the gym feeling like Rocky Balboa, imagining a crowd of adoring fans chanting my name, humming the theme song to my movies, and seeking autographs. Thank you Rock Steady Boxing for showing me a world of possibilities!

Sheryl

 

See the following links for other articles about the Rock Steady Boxing for Parkinson’s program.

New Gym Gives Purpose To Punches January 23, 2007
http://www.theindychannel.com/news/10823367/detail.html

Punching out Parkinson's at Rock Steady Boxing Gym
DAVID ALAN BECK;  February 14, 2007, nuvo.net/articles

 

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