(reposted from from my journal, August 7, 2007)

Muay Thai continues. I've had 6 lessons now and am starting to feel that I understand the how of the basic movements, even though I'm still not able to execute with consistency.

I've developed a routine; I join the class sessions Ray holds at his school on Tuesdays. On Thursday, I have a private lesson with Brian, or, if his class is scheduled to start at 5:30, I participate in that. The classes at Ray's school are particular taxing. Still no a/c, still summer in Tampa, still mostly with a group where the next oldest individual is more than a decade my junior.

The other night I end up paired with who could have been Dolph Lundgren's son. The guy stands about 6'3', 200+ pounds and looks like an anatomy chart. I guess his age at around 22. He looked as though he just finished shooting a Nike commercial. I learn he's been in Tampa for two months (assigned at Macdill AFB), trains Muay Thai for striking and Brazilian Ju Jitsu for his grappling and ground work. His goal is to get into MMA competition. He is not someone I would want to be in a cage with.

We're already warmed up from jumping rope, so we find a spot. I've got the pads on, long forearm pads that run from the hand to the elbow. They're about 5 inches thick, made of leather, and actually pretty hard. They strap on to your arm and have a handle at the top to hold on to. He helps me strap on the left one after I get the right on.

The instructor gives us our combo - jab, cross, knee, push, leg kick. We repeat the combo for a round (3 minutes) and are then given another to practice. After 3 rounds, we switch; he holds and I strike. The guy starts off at half speed to get the rhythm down. Third time is the charm. Left jab, right cross, right knee, a shove to my left shoulder, and a right leg kick.

I don't know if he was going full out this time, but when this guy kicked the pads this time, the force knocked me back a couple of steps and actually drove the edge of the left pad into the side of my face. I feel my bottom lip start to swell. I suppose the pads kept my arms from being shattered like glass sticks, but that's about all they did. This guy's leg kick felt like being hit with a telephone pole.

The pads get especially tough to hold when you're sweaty, and working out in a non-air conditioned building in Tampa in the summer tends to make you sweaty. They kept twisting in my hands, which meant they didn't absorb as much of the blow as they were supposed to, and didn't lay flat on my forearms. By the end of the might, my arms ached. I'd actually gotten a headache, some from the heat I'm sure, but mostly from setting the pads and getting knocked back time and time again by this guys leg kick.

The workout finished with an especially brutal kicking exercise. One right leg kick, one left leg kick, two right legs kicks, two left leg kicks, three right leg kicks, three left leg kicks.... all the way up to ten. That's 55 kicks with each leg, done as fast and as hard as you can do them, which, by the time I got up to around four, was neither fast nor hard. I started getting that pukey feeling, and lemme tell you it's been a long time since I puked from working out too hard. Son-of-Lundgren cranked out his 110 kicks in less than three minutes; it took me a good 5, and the only reason I finished was because Son-of-Lundgren wouldn't let me stop.

I thought I'd made great gains in my conditioning, but when I (barely) walked out of there that evening, I wasn't so sure. Maybe I am too old for this after all.