I awoke unable to move and with the muscles of my arms screaming: what evil atrocity had befallen my person overnight? I did (what they say in meditation sessions that I never get to do) a body scan; starting at the toes, moving to the knees and then to the thighs and hips, noting sensations in the body pleasant or unpleasant. It was all deeply unpleasant. The pains went to my calves when I tried to wiggle my toes and I couldn’t feel my thighs. It was as if everything connecting my legs to the rest of my body had been stolen while I slept.
I tried to roll onto my side, but where there were (admittedly weak) core muscles, there now seemed to be none. My brain spun. Had I inadvertently given birth to another baby? By caesarean? Or maybe I had some vital organs illegally removed and that was the result. Hundreds of different pains began to register around my body – even my head hurt when I weakly turned it from side to side.
And then the horror flooded back. Operating with a slight delay, no doubt due to the trauma, my mind flashed into action and played a series of nightmarish flashbacks from the previous day. The root cause of all my pain became clear:
I had exercised.
More specifically, I was “stuffed”. Or “got boxing” – I’m not sure of the correct phrase here because I’m not familiar with almost all forms of exercise and the appropriate lexicon related to fitness. But I had at least done something akin to boxing – I had bound my hands (with bandages, which felt like a warning) and put on the proper gloves and given it my all as only a comparatively unfit forty-two-year-old mother of two can.
I say comparatively because, with a few exceptions, I think I was the biggest participant in the room for almost two decades, and I’m not sure, judging by the enthusiasm and vigor with which everyone did the jumping jacks, that any of the others still had to struggle with damaged pelvic floors.
Now look? I’m not unable in that I have to huff and puff to get up on my almost vertical road (I can even carry heavy stacks of parcels) and I am also not unfit in that I can easily walk six, seven, eight miles or more at one go and I don’t really feel like I’ve strained my energy that much. However: put me on a rubber floor and make me do things like rock climbers and burpees and anything involving upper body strength and I promise you I’ll collapse like one of those little rubber band puppets inside them .
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Why was I working out? You may ask. I was at a press event for Kiehl’s and boxing (at the amazing JAB club in Mayfair) was part of the package. Kiehl’s has launched a great new product in their range Ultra Facial range? The Ultra Facial Advanced Repair Barrier Cream, and I guess the “defensive” nature of the boxing category is the link between the event and barrier repair product. Although, I have to say, JAB couldn’t have been more of Kiehl’s in style if he had tried – it felt very New York cool with the wooden cabinets and wall of boxing gloves and amazing leather boxing bags in the mirrored studio.
And as Rebecca, the Kiehl’s photographer, fended off all the guests posing in the aforementioned boxing gloves, leaning on the aforementioned bags, I made the fatal mistake of assuming that this boxing session was “just for the gram.” and that no one would actually expend any real kind of physical effort.
That was fine by me because even as I entered the changing room I began to question my sanity – why had I agreed to spend a morning doing something so energetic and potentially torturous when I could have been having hot chocolate with a friend, or browsing John Lewis for a new travel bag (much needed); Or just anything, really, rather than being in a boxing gym with that faint smell of sweat and rubber and – strangely – ham that seems to always be the precursor to intense physical discomfort.
Fortunately, the JAB crew (instructor and two well-rounded “demo” boxers to keep us all on track with the moves) were very easy on the eye, and since I don’t get out much these days, it was all quite visually exciting at first. . As we started walking around in place and pretending to punch, I relaxed the whole thing and suddenly felt pretty confident that I could take the whole thing in my stride. Even as the moves progressed to more energetic ones, ones that saw me drop to the floor, touch my knee to my shoulder like some sadistic version of Twister, I felt physically energized and motivated in a way that I had. I haven’t had any experience since I had to run to catch the last train from Paddington at the end of January 2021. (One of my tendons has just healed.)
But oh my god. After about ten minutes of pure cardio sweaty effort and just as I assumed we were going to wrap things up to get some rest, the instructor (and owner of JAB) declared that “the warm-up was almost over.” Sorry? Warming up? If this was one of those obstacle troops, then I was at exhaustion level 8: the final swamp crossing. If I were in a military course, at this point I would be running myself through the mud on my knees, crying foul. If it was labor (and my babies weren’t huge/wrong until/delayed) then I’d be where the ring of fire was and you’d have to go through the pain.
Warming up?
If Mr. Jump hadn’t been so encouraging, in his tiny shorts with his muscular physique, I would have laid on the rubber floor and cried. As it happened, he brought some kind of long plastic ruler with him and every now and then he gave a gentle tap with it which was actually quite stimulating.
Or it would have been quite arousing if my pelvic floor hadn’t decided to give up the ghost completely, which meant I concentrated on trying not to accidentally pee on myself. It was the split jumping jacks that did the pelvic floor, FYI – manic opening and closing of the legs combined with sharp and forceful high impact landings. Will do. You can also put the bottom of your car in this machine at IKEA that shows how brutally they test their mattresses for wear and tear. Pound-pound-pound.
Anyway, jokes aside, I had a blast. The urine stayed where it should, despite my bladder screaming to me for a full forty-five minutes, and the first thing I did when I got on the train home was Google ‘Boxing Club in Bath’. I felt on top of the world. There was a ferocity and a focus to the session that I loved. it was so intense that it left no room for thought. If I’m spinning (on a bike, not just round and round in a room like someone on hallucinogens), then all things go through my mind. And I can imagine that – if I had knees that weren’t made of Play-Doh and jogged – the same would happen with jogging. I would ponder work matters, family life, run through my to-do lists.
There is no room for that during boxing! Or – whispers – Boxing, which I think I should do instead of proper boxing. Mainly because proper boxing gyms talk about things like ‘sparring’ and ‘mouth guards’ and I’m not quite ready to retire from modeling just yet.
And also, me they say that Boxercise is what I think I should do, but it took me five whole days to fully get my upper body back: I went forty-eight hours in the same T-shirt because I couldn’t bear to lift my arms above the my head! So maybe I should stick to spinning (again, cycling on a stationary bike) rather than anything more strenuous. Which would mean I’d have to buy an actual clothes horse instead of using the Peleton to dry my clothes so it’s swings and roundabouts…
A huge thank you to Kiehl’s for inviting me to them Ultra Facial Advanced Repair Barrier Cream Start: Felt very relevant and youthful with gym stuff and boxing gloves. And the new cream is just wonderful – a great addition to the Ultra Facial line-up, which is famous for being very calm and polite. I have two close friends who haven’t used anything else in years and I will use nothing else. The new cream brings to the table super powerful ingredients that really help restore the skin barrier so it can work more efficiently – better skin barrier, less moisture loss and skin that feels more comfortable and soft. The new barrier cream has a balm texture that is surprisingly velvety rather than the heavy, greasy ointment you might expect. It sits beautifully under makeup (I’ve worn it now) (I realize you can’t see me, so that’s an understatement) and keeps skin supple and comfortable all day.
You can find the new one Ultra Facial Advanced Repair Barrier Cream at Kiehl’s here* – it’s £34 for 50ml.
Photo: Photo by Rebecca Spencer
