We’ve all seen the ads on Instagram. Sign up for a free class at your local UFC Gym. I finally clicked the link and signed up at my local gym, UFC Rocklin here in Northern California. It was both eye-opening and pain-inducing.
My class was Kickboxing. As I type this, I’m now five hours after the end of the class, took a hot shower, and I’m still in pain from my toes to my neck. It’s the good pain, however, the kind that reminds you that while time has marched on, it hasn’t quite marched over you yet. The instructor efficiently handled a class of twenty people from around twelve to sixty years old. He got us warmed up, covered the basics, and worked everyone pretty hard without anybody dropping out.
Of course, no trip to the gym is complete without a stupid injury. It was the last five minutes of the class, and the instructor had us doing a little freestyle on the heavy bag. We worked with a partner on opposite sides, and I threw a left jab when it should have been a hook as the bag swung back toward me. A split second before I landed the punch, I knew what was about to happen, but it was too late. It’s sore as heck and slightly discolored, but it’ll be fine in a day or two. Then again, I wasn’t sixty when I last did this.
What really surprised me about this was my almost total lack of balance when I lifted one foot to the height of the opposing knee. I have no problem if my foot is off the ground up to about 3 or 4 inches. Anything higher and I’m weaving around like I’m trying to step out of a really awesome roller coaster! Fortunately, I can work on that.
I can’t speak to all of the UFC Gyms, but the Rocklin shop was immaculate. The staff handled the hard parts, but no one there left a puddle of sweat on any equipment, and all gloves, etc. were replaced in storage boxes after use. It was what every customer wishes for: respect for the gym. I’m definitely heading back.
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