My friend Brianna is a power hitter, quite literally. She is a regular at a local boxing gym, and she raves about much fun she has, how hard she works, and how strong she has become. In search of a workout refresh, I asked if I could join her sometime.
Having no idea what to expect, I signed up for the 11:15 boxing class she attends on Sundays. Trying new things is always difficult, but much less so with a friend. She told me where to stand, what weights to select, and even helped me wrap my hands (I would not have know this was even necessary without her there).
As we warmed up, I took in my surroundings. Floor to ceiling windows let in the natural light, darting between the punch bags that hang around the room. As we learned punching combinations, I noticed the other participants. The 10 year old and his grandfather. The high school girl. The couple. I observed a few parents observing from the lobby, one dad even snapping a picture of his child. I felt proud for him, as I’m sure he felt knowing his child was not only gaining muscle but gaining knowledge that could protect them. As we started to hit the bag, I started to copy my friend’s technique, feeling more confident and empowered with every hit.
Before I knew it, the hour long class was over. We chatted on the way home about the other classes they offer, already ready for next time.
The Musing Millennial 
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