It all began when I realized that in terms of working out, I
needed that extra motivation I had back home with Cross Fit--the accountability
of someone expecting me to be at the same place, same time, every day to sweat
off some calories. I live in a really small town and had given up on the idea
of finding any sort of accountability, when I found Mr. Sorn. A man who has to
be in his late 50’s, early 60’s, and who multitasks training me and watching
his food cart by the road. We train on a patch of grass in front of the clinic
by the main road, and the sand bag hangs from a tree just a few feet from the
patch of grass.
In all honesty, Mr. Sorn often stresses me out more than he
helps me get rid of my stress, with his making fun of my flinching when he pretends to hit
me, and his enjoyment of showing me, “the farang (westerner)”, off to local old
ladies walking by. Who either encourage me to “take him” or shake their head in
disapproval. “Why is your name Flor?” he asks. “Why couldn’t it be Johnny or
Abbey? Why?” Are questions he often likes to ask me. Or, “why aren’t you
kicking higher?” despite my 5’2 height. All questions I can’t technically
answer.
According to his timeline, I’ll be ready for a fight a month
from now. “After one month, you, madam, same, same”, he says. To which I answer
with a glare and a shake of the head. I can see how participating in a live
fight would teach me how to actually apply what I’ve learned to a real life
situation, but I’m in it for the sweat, not the blood. I would much rather
stick to Mr. Sorn’s made up role-plays where he pretends to be a drunk man
trying to take my money, and I swiftly knock his pretend knife out of his hand
as I knock him to the ground.
My decision to decline any chance at a live fight was proven
wise last Tuesday, when Mr. Sorn took Kendra (another ETA) and I to a fight in
a neighboring town. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the opening routine of the
fight, but could not imagine myself continuing past the Muay Thai opening
dance. The fighting is quite intense to say the least, and I can’t picture
myself taking someone’s face to my knee (or vice-versa), for money. Nonetheless,
while it’s quite violent in the ring and I want no part in that, it’s been a great workout by Mr. Sorn’s
food cart.
Me putting flowers on a fighter before the fight.
First and second place fighters.
Becca got me Thai boxing shorts for our secret turkey gift exchange!
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