(reposted from from my journal, July 10, 2007)

I had my first lesson, a private session between me and a local Muay Thai instructor who run Freestyle Muay Thai. A firefighter, Brian is a compact man with a shaven head, eleven years my junior, a few inches shorter than my own six feet, and at 160 about thirty-five pounds lighter. He held his private sessions in the workout room of his condominum community. I told him my ultimate goal.

"I feel the sands of time beginning to cover my feet," I told him. "Before I'm buried, I'd like it get into the ring."

He didn't seem dismissive. Or skeptical. Maybe he'd spoken with other middle-aged professionals who'd been watching too much Spike TV. He offered the observation that it looked as though I'd kept myself in shape. He'd put other beginners in competitions and was usually able to find opponents at similar levels of skill (old, slow, and uncoodinated?).

We talked briefly about MMA in general and the UFC in particular. He agreed that there seemed to be a surge in the number of people interested in taking some sort of martial arts training. Most of his new clients tended to be older than in the past. One of his clients was a thirty-two year old schoolteacher (whom I later learned had been knocked out in his first match). Brian was optimistic; he hoped his business would continue to grow.

The lesson began with Brian demonstrating various punches: jab, cross, hook, uppercut. I was impressed by his speed and precision, even when simply presented as a demonstration. His movements were economical and focused. He put me in a stance and had me go through the motions. I was flat-footed, lumbering and off-balance. For twenty years I'd been pushing weights in the gym. I guess that doesn't do much for speed and coordination.

I flailed at the pads. I was astonishingly uncoordinated, with absolutely no understanding of how to throw a punch. The kicks were even worse. My balance was all wrong, my flexibility non-existant. I

couldn't even kick any higher than his hip. No power, no coordination, no consistency, no accuracy. Aerobically... in addition to the weight training, I run two - three times a week, but by the end of the workout, and after the kicks especially, I was winded and sweating profusely.

The lesson lasted an hour. By the end, I was already sore in new and uninteresting places. I'd thought my weight training would stand me in good stead, but I realized what a segmented type of exercise weight training is. The kicks and punches stressed the whole body, especially the hips and abdomen. My sides where killing me, and the top part of my back. My calves weren't shy about letting me know I'd been bouncing on the balls of my feet for an hour. Well, trying too bounce anyway.

I thanked Brian for his time and paid his fee, already looking forward to doing it again.