16 October - Don't rush to my defense

Thanks to an introduction by some visiting Melbournians, I've had the opportunity to make a new friend. Besides being the first German I've actually befriended in Berlin, she's also possibly the nicest person I've ever met. I met K three days ago and in that time I have seen her convince a bunch of teenagers to quit playing tag on the train tracks, then the next day, I saw her pull her bike over to ask an elderly lady if she needed help with her groceries. So, when she said, 'So, Kristen, want to learn how to box?' I was a little perplexed. But, I was equally eager to see this dichotomy in action.  

I don't like sport. Mostly because I don't like to do things that I have absolutely no skill at. This is why jogging suits me. No skill required beyond moving one's legs and regulating one's breathing. I've been skilled at both moving my legs and breathing for a few years now. For me, jogging is also the cheapest form of therapy because of its enforced meditative qualities - I don't dwell and over-think when I run - I solve. The over-thinking comes from being a rather angry person. I'm angry a lot. I'm angry at people who try and get on public transport before I've had a chance to exit it. I'm angry that I have so much when so many people have so little. I'm angry that I'm rubbish at maths. I'm angry that I sometimes channel this anger towards strangers, or even people I care about, through cutting remarks. Now however, I'm pleased to announce, I have boxing in my life.


So, let's set the scene. Our instructor for the lesson looked exactly like Hilary Swank. Not 'Million Dollar Baby' Hilary, but 'Boy's Don't Cry' Hilary. The rest of the class was made up of three German girls - two of which were about my height and build - the third looked a little like this;

Just add boxing gloves

Before getting down to punching things however, we needed to warm up. Cue skipping ropes and five minutes of Missy Elliot. Awesome. Then Hilary took us through the basics of how to stand and correctly position our bodies, using core strength. It was kind of like yoga - without the irritating hippy elements. 

Next came the basic punch. Now, being lucky enough to be born female, learning how to punch somebody in the face hasn't been high up on my list of priorities. So, being told to 'aim for the head' was not only usual, but, strangely liberating. It was also really fun. This was especially the case when I was partnered with Dagmar - a sweet girl of my height and build. We were equally as uncoordinated and afraid of doing damage that we spent most of our time dodging punches that wouldn't topple a toddler. Then I was partnered with Fraulein SS. This woman was taking this lesson very seriously. Since we started without gloves, we had to defend with open palms. Fraulein SS wasn't satisfied unless the sound of her punch hitting your palm was the loudest thing echoing through the gym. My hands are still aching.

Towards the end I was partnered with our instructor. She was so encouraging and kind I didn't get much joy from aiming my fist at her face. She didn't have my inhibitions however and continually pointed out my poor defense technique. 'Kristen, you're very quick, but, you need to learn to defend yourself effectively.' How true. Maybe all that anger is better channeled through a more passive but effective defense rather than a quick and brutal right hook?