In school I wasn’t the kid who got picked last in gym. But I was the kid who got picked third from last. Sports were just never my thing. As an adult, though, I’ve realised you don’t need to be on the hockey A team to enjoy a bit of exercise. I run, I go to the gym, and I work out with a personal trainer once a week doing boxing and general fitness.
These past four weeks, my PT sessions have really helped me. My trainer pushes me. I sweat a lot. But the squats, burpees (ugh) and press ups are interspersed with trash talking my ex. It gets me all riled up and ready to box. I think I’ve been pushing myself harder than ever since the pizza of doom. In a way, physical pain or discomfort just doesn’t bother me anymore. I’m unafraid because nothing could hurt as much as this break up.
This morning we did a 90-minute session. 90. Minutes. Dear. God. I thought I was going to puke more than once. But it’s quite incredible how good boxing feels when you are full of anger and frustration. (No prizes for guessing who’s head I picture.)
Now, back in my flat, showered, coffee in hand, I feel amazing. In fact, I’m watching ‘Say Yes To The Dress’. And I am not crying.
I know the science; exercise releases endorphins. But I believe there’s something else going on here. I feel in control. I feel confident. I feel strong.
To my break up buddies out there, find a boxing class and start sweating out all that negative energy. The release is so relaxing. Plus, it’s good to know you can throw a mean jab, jab, cross.
Pizza of Doom 
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