The alarm must have been going off because I rolled over and attempted to crack open my eyes. With one still closed, I managed to half open the other eye and check the time. My reaction was inevitable; I remained laying still and curled up in my bed soaking up the last few moments of warm comforters and cozy pillows, for just a moment. Ever so slowly and remorsefully I turned my head towards the alarm clock again. Five minutes had passed; that’s great, now I’m late. Racing around my room and stumbling down the stairs; thinking, “Hurry put on shorts and a t-shirt. Grab tennis shoes, socks, and water bottle on the way out the door”. There was a cold rain outside but that doesn’t delay the strict boxing class trainer from beginning promptly in ten minutes.
Being late means extra punishment, pain, and sweat for every single muscle in the body, I know from experience. On a good day it just means extra interrogations and a few more uphill sprints but on a bad day means embarrassment in front of the rest of the class. Embarrassment as the trainer forces the tardy student to do extra reps of each portion in the routine. The regular routine its self is hard enough to make first timers quit before the class is half way done. I would drive eighty on Hannah Road just to get to the gym in time. No harsh ticket compares to the painful sore feeling covering the whole body after a class as a tardy student.

I cross the threshold into the gates of hell red with a feeling of being lost in a cave without a flashlight. The class is set up to start at one difficulty level and proceed by getting more intense throughout. The trainer yells over the loud angry music to go faster as we start the first five minutes of class jumping rope making our speeding ropes snap even more times a minute. Even though this class isn’t set to train, but to be a workout, the trainer, Casey, likes to treat us like his other fighters.
Next, he’ll lead the class through a series of exercises in forty five second intervals. This fast pace part is set up to kill and crush us. It will include several types of pushups, jumping jacks, squats, mountain climbers, up downs and more. There is no time in between each of these and the next activity. We switch when Casey yells out what to do next so there is zero transition. Next we run outside to run some more, sprints. They are uphill. It doesn’t seem like much of a hill until it’s in the way of running. After ten or so Casey tells us to go in and put our gloves on. We’ll do two minutes of each of the six punches to get our arms completely warmed up before starting combinations using all of the punches instead of separate ones.
After a while of punching combinations he’ll add kicks and other moves. It’s said that ten minutes of boxing is equivalent to running five miles. We must show the same bewildered expression on our faces as runners because after the combinations is a one minute drink break. It is always much needed but it seems like it takes the whole minute just to get to the water bottle. The class then switches to a different mode. Difficult and vigorous, it includes flipping tractor tires, activities with unexpected heavy fire hoses, doing up downs with a log that has two handles to raise about one’s head on the up part,

This morning class lasts an hour but seems like years of slavery. Walking out of the gym at the end is almost too painful to do. It can only be attempted after sitting for a good minute or two and taking a break for a drink to regain a bit of energy. At that point, the only goal is to put one foot in front of the other. There is almost no expression on anybody’s faces because of the exhaustion. I guess you get out of it what you put into it. So when I work my hardest, I get the hardest workout.