Valentine's Day: Boxing and Chocolate Soy Ice Cream

During last week's visit to observe training at the local boxing/kickboxing club, instead of the terrifying menagerie of battered and angry male warriors that I was expecting I encountered a 10 year-old kid, a variety of women and girls, some inoffensive looking young men and just a few scary looking dudes. And the coach wasn't there. A really nice guy named Keith was filling in for him (dude who works the front counter).

So I go back a week later (Valentine's Day) because I want to see the Seph (the coach) in action and shit the first class is free so what the hell, eh? I'd been damn nervous about going all day, to the extent that I had to cut through all kinds of excuses about why I ought not to go, or that maybe I should just observe class again. I had skinned my knuckle breaking in a new pair of bag gloves, and it simply wasn't getting a chance to heal, after all. So shit I walk up the stairs, all excuses behind me, and survey the room before me and sure enough my eyes fall upon this big skinhead and of course that's gotta be him. And it is. I wonder if he is racist with his spiderweb tattoo on his elbow and all but I figure that there is an asian, a black guy and a guy who might be South Asian so probably not. He looks like a hard-man that's sure enough. And there are a lot more intimidating looking dudes this time (though none as intimidating as Seph). I'll cut this short but I will tell you that I barely got through the calisthenics without puking and that ispent the rest of Valentine's night by myself with a little tub of chocolate soy ice cream and that it was pretty brilliant.