The night before last I had an epiphany. Ok, not really, I just wanted to use the word epiphany. But I did come to a minor realisation. I think I know what’s missing from my life. I read a tweet from a friend that I met when I was kick-boxing a few years back. She was talking about a fight that our mutual trainer is in this weekend. I realised that while I was reading it the muscles in my biceps and quads were doing little involuntary twitches. I’m sure that must be withdrawal.
So I made a decision. I’m getting back in the ring.
I contacted my trainer and he suggested that he’d be happy “to whip my fat ass into shape and have me looking like a boy again”. Great. Encouraging words which I accept would probably have some people running for the hills, but to me that sounds like heaven. I have never experienced anything like the level of endorphins that you get after an hour of kicking the living hell out of someone (that has volunteered to have the living hell kicked out of them). Aside from the short term buzz, the level of fitness that you can achieve is phenomenal. It will certainly make carrying around my 2x12kg children significantly less tiring.
Because I choose not to put the kids into childcare (I’m one of those people that thinks that if you have kids then you should look after them if you possibly can) I need to find some other solution, and I think I have. My mother has decided that she wants to take them on Friday mornings. Oh yeah. So things are falling into place.
I went up to the attic last night and dug out my gloves. When I put them on it felt like coming home after being away for too long.