What to do when your friend tries to kill you.

Have you ever had a near-death experience?

Have you ever seen your life flash before your eyes?

Or have you simply not done exercise for a good 5 years?

If you have, then this post is for you!

My story begins when my good friend Kyara tried to kill me. She was sly about it too. This was no straight-up murder plot, there was no evidence or murder weapon, nothing to prove her guilt. If this was a game of Cluedo, you would have never guessed it was her. She wouldn’t have even been on the suspect list.

I should have known better. I should have seen the signs. ‘Do you want to come to the gym with me?’ and ‘Come to my boxing class.’ I should have known she had it in for me.

Alas, I thought she was just being nice, and willingly went Thai Boxing with her.

The boxing was fine. Fun, even.

What was not fun was the jogging,

the high knees x 10,

the jogging,

Push ups x 10,

the jogging,

the high knees x 10,

the jogging,

the sit ups x 10,

the jogging,

the high knees x 10,

the jogging,

a sort of jumping push up thing x 10,

all sprinkled with a dose of, guess what? That’s right… jogging!

I very nearly died. And of course, the obvious active, fit men were there. They didn’t even break a sweat. Show offs.

The boxing was great, even though I’m pretty sure Kyara wanted to properly punch me since I don’t know my lefts and rights and kept going in with the wrong hand. Luckily, she has quick reactions so I never actually punched her by mistake. I also wanted to punch her. After the torment she just put me through, so we had a healthy, mutual hatred for each other at this point.

Another thing to add to the list of ‘Things I’m bad at’ is kicking. For some reason. My leg will not go high enough. Kyara had to hold the pad at her knees so that my leg would reach it. There’s a reason you don’t see dwarves going around kicking people in Lord of the Rings. Even Gollum would be better at it than me.

At the end of it, every muscle in my body ached. I couldn’t even sit down thanks to the 3-minute squat the instructor made us do. I think to be a fitness coach you have to be sadistic, like a Dentist.

You have to enjoy other people’s pain, because he seemed very happy standing around and making us do the hard work. He also said that if one of us gave up, the entire class would have to start the three minutes again. I could feel the annoyingly healthy men glare at me, which turned out to be good motivation. I like to prove people wrong.

So there I squatted, until the instructor looked away and I stood up properly, and then went back to squatting when he turned his head towards my direction. I’m pretty sure he didn’t see me. I’m stealthy, like a fox. (Are foxes stealthy? Please let me know if you know.)

Here, I bid you well. I wish you a week of many joys.


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