My Experience at RockBox Fitness| A Review

Re: Health + Fitness

My mom doesn’t think I should write about my recent visit to the kickboxing gym. Is that even what you call it? I don’t agree. Those of you who’ve signed up to receive these issues, have signed up to follow my journey through life. I’m sorry, but me attending a kickboxing class is a monumental thing. A milestone, if you will.

I’ve never participated in an aerobic class of any kind. I walk on the treadmill or I use the weight machines at my new gym. (I joined a gym, by the way). That is the extent of my fitness experience.

About a month ago, RockBox Greenville contacted me about joining a few of their classes. I’ll admit, my first thought was, “huh? Why?” I mean, I appreciate the offer, but what about my media and/or community presence screams kickboxing? Family, homeschooling, food, healthy eating, hiking, maybe.

Kickboxing? Nah. The next thing I know, I agreed to attend. Insert anxiety.

The general manager was so nice. (Probably why I agreed to go). Her first question was, “do you have your own gloves?”

Me: (crickets)

I don’t even have gloves for when the temperature drops outside. This was the point in the conversation when I felt like maybe she’d contacted the wrong person. She must have made a mistake. I didn’t have gloves. Heck, I wasn’t even sure what she was talking about.

She assured me I would be fine. Someone would be there to show me how to use the equipment and I could borrow gloves.

We set the date.

This was me sitting behind the wheel of my car waiting to go in. And re-evaluating my life choices.

They tell you to arrive twenty minutes early to go over logistics. The girl behind the desk greeted me when I walked in. She was happy to be there, which gave me hope. I signed the paperwork.

The class before mine was finishing up. I made the mistake of peeking in to watch. It was in that moment I realized I had signed my life away. I basically joined the Marines.

People began to file out of the gym, dripping with sweat. They were talking, laughing, making plans for their next class. One girl even stayed behind - apparently she was going to take the EXACT SAME CLASS a second time. Clearly her brain was deprived of oxygen. What was wrong with these people?

Nothing to worry about. In the words of Ross, I was going to be FINE. I’ve been walking 2-4 miles every day. I’m in good(ish) shape.

Too late to back out. It was my turn.

I expected the room to smell like a fifth grade hallway after recess. Wrong. Paper towels and disinfectant spray were at each station. (The teacher in me gives the staff an A+ for cleanliness).

It was time for me to meet my coach. Aka drill instructor. Right off the bat I loved him. Not because he was beautiful to look at, but because he was kind and patient as he explained what would take place during the class. He demonstrated how to properly hit and kick the hanging-bag-thingy.

“You think you got it?” He asked in an adrenaline induced voice.

Me: “Yeah, sure.”

Also me: 😭

Time to warm up with jumping jacks! The last time I jumped up and down for fun was on the playground in the first grade. What in the world were we warming up to?

I was in trouble.

The music started - the hip hop side of me LOVED that part!

After about ten minutes of punching and kicking the bag, I thought to myself, “hey, I can actually do this!” I was actually pretty good at that part. Then, our leader yells out, “give me ten burpees!”

What in the #*!! is a burpee?!

All of a sudden, I’m a solo rider on the Train Wreck Express.

Looking around, every single sweaty person is up and down and up and down on the mat. Legs in the air, push-ups, clapping, standing, squatting, planking…

Meanwhile, I’m standing there, trying to process just how out of shape I am. We’re less than twenty minutes in and ya girl‘s finished her water bottle AND been to the water fountain twice!

We’re not even gonna get into the (I think) eight stations you rotate through, lifting weights.

At the end of fifty minutes, I thanked them, gathered my things and left. Not quite that fast, but…

I walked through the door at home, and Preston said, “what happened to your face?”

Four days later, my blood pressure has finally leveled out.

I realize this is less about the establishment and more a review of my (lack of) stamina. If you’re fit and looking for a fun, challenging, and fast-paced group, RockBox is the place for you! The staff is welcoming and supportive. The building is clean and filled with top of the line equipment.

The best part? RockBox is located a few doors down from my FAVORITE burrito joint, Barberitos!

Wanna hear something crazy? I’m going again tomorrow night!

No pain, no gain, right?!?