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My Boxing Journey at Wayne Bourque’s Boxing Gym (So Far)
Definitely not a country club
“Good To See You”
Wayne would greet fervently with the raspy deep voice I now only associate with seasoned boxers. Wayne has been a boxer since, it seems at least, his very first breath. At around 60 now, he still comes in to teach with boundless energy, and joy, often punching bags ‘Pop Pop Pop’ or even busting a quick dance move to enliven the atmosphere, often as we, earthly mortals, are in the midst of completing our 90th push-up and, likely, re-thinking our life choices.
“What do you think — this is a Country Club?”
A number of years ago, attending his gym had been a goal I worked towards. I knew boxing required a lot of stamina, so I worked my way to running several times a week for over a month before even setting foot there. Still, I eventually did, and the workouts were harder than I had thought. 20mins in as you punched in another 10 back-to-back hooks, out of breath, I would look at the clock and wonder how I would last another 40. I loved that clock — I would always wait as long as possible (often only lasting about 20mins) before checking it lest it truly took all my hopes of a quick end away but still it always gave me solace towards the end, and at times, just enough juice to go 100% on those last punches.
“Look at those punches — you look angry today!”
My first foray into boxing lasted only a few months. I then went back to it several years later. I am writing this as of then — now having completed my 31st class over the span of 5 months or so. That class will take everything you have. A mix of cardio, punching bags, ab workout, and strength training, the 1 hour will feel like a Spartan’s regime. 5 months in, it has not gotten any easier but damn me if my punches don’t give me that feeling of being able to do and accomplish anything. Throughout, Wayne will often correct your techniques — “Punch with your fist leveled”, “Keep your arms up”, and “Keep a straight back”. Let’s face it, we box because we love the punch — a single act where we can focus all of who we are in that one fist and explode onwards. What a rush.
“What the hell?”
