Boxing with DaVarryl

Well it finally happened.  I cried during a workout. I have teared up, wanted to cry and sucked up a tear before but I’ve never full out cried.  Last night was that night.

I arrived at the gym to train with Jameson right after work.  Due to unforeseen circumstances, Jameson was unable to make it.  So the owner, DaVarryl Williamson absorbed me into his small class.  For those who don’t box or are new to the idea of a trainer, every trainer is different.  The exact same workout with two different trainers can look and feel drastically different.  Each trainer has their own style, has different expectations and demands. I was immediately nervous and anxious not knowing what I was in store for.

He put us on cardio machines, which are all ‘conveniently’ stuck on the highest resistance and intensity possible.  Then we wrapped up our hands and did exercises.  After about a million sit ups and pull ups, he had us get in the ring. I was feeling pretty intimidated already because I couldn’t do the same amount or intensity as the others in class. But I’m pretty comfortable in the ring after a few training sessions with Jameson and was thinking to myself, “I got this.” I soooo did not.

DaVarryl started calling out combination numbers that I wasn’t used to.  It was like Russian to me.  Even after watching the other three in class go first, I couldn’t get it right.  The others in class would whisper what I was supposed to do, I’d practice and then still go up and get it wrong.  The workout was within my fitness level but I felt like I couldn’t do it.  I got more and more frustrated with myself. I felt like everyone was watching me fail. DaVarryl was very patient with me while still demanding I meet expectations.  Even when I turned my back on him, which you are NEVER supposed to do, he didn’t let me quit.  Even when I was crying, he pushed me to do more because he knew I could. The workout was killer and I think I sweat a whole gallon.  But I cried……….Twice.

I didn’t cry because the work was too hard.  I didn’t cry because I wanted to quit or DaVarryl hurt my feelings.  I didn’t cry because of the pain.  I cried because I felt fat again.

I am not very good at “going with the flow”. (Shocker to all that know me, I know!) I walk into the gym with a certain mindset for what I’m about to do.  Whenever it doesn’t go as planned, I get frustrated and anxious.  So when I couldn’t do what everyone else could do, I felt like I was at the bottom of the class.  It’s been a long time since I felt like I was the worst in any class. I kept thinking everyone else was thinking, “What the hell is she doing here?” “She’s holding up class.” “She’s not fit enough to keep up.” “She’s clearly a beginner.” “She can’t do it.”

Now, a day later, I can see the workout more clearly.  I was the one thinking that.  Who cares what everyone was thinking? The others in class were really helpful.  The girl next to me even said, “It’s okay.  You’re doing great!  Most people have a hard time their first time. Most people puke.” I immediately wanted to punch her in the face because what I heard was “You can’t do this.”  Last night I felt like I was fat and uncoordinated all over again.  I felt frustrated with my body when it was really my mind holding me back.  I was blaming the circumstance when I should have just focused.  I need to stop putting myself in a box where failure equals not being awesome at everything. I SHOULD have really enjoyed the workout with an awesome boxer and teacher, but instead I let me mind take me to a place where I ended up hating it.

Last night showed me, yet again, how much work I still have left to do emotionally.