Kyle Balboa

CURRENT STATE: SORE

Derek had a free pass to the UFC gym where he’s a member and told me to check it out with him and his brother, Sean. So I’m amped. At work we TRY and do hourly pushups, but lately we’ve kinda been slacking so I was excited to whip myself back into shape. And whipped, I was.

As soon as I walked in the gym, I was excited and petrified all at the same time. The trainer, who was my height and basically just one big muscle, wrapped up my hands in tape and gave me some gloves. The gloves were slime green, so obviously we had an unspoken understanding that I’d be channeling my inner Incredible Hulk tonight.

Calisthenics were first and we did so many effing lunges I thought my legs were gonna fall off. When it was finally time to punch and kick the bag’s guts out, I was already pooped. Now I know why everyone who plays a boxer gets nominated for an Oscar; because it’s the hardest sport ever and it’s crazy and if you go hard enough, even your hands start to smell.

I was also a little surprised that [WARNING: honest, yet sexist, remark coming] there were girls in the class. The only girl I had ever seen do UFC was that crazy one who rips all the other girls’ arms off, but the ladies in my class were cute. When I saw them, I thought, “how hard could it be?”. And afterward I realized that every single one of those smokin’ ladies could probably rip MY arms off.

I learned all these moves and techniques and even though it took me a while to get into it, toward the end, I was on fire. Figuratively and literally. My arms were burning in pain, but I kinda liked it. As time wore on and I was kicking as hard as I could while simultaneously trying not to lose my balance, all the I could think about was Anderson Silva’s leg snapping. Awesome.

We ended the sesh with leg-lifts, which helped me identify my problem area because they might have been the hardest part of the class – I have no upper abs.

All in all, my first official UFC training session was a success. Now excuse me while I go ice my entire body. And you can just call me Million Dollar Kyle from now on. Except, you know, I didn’t die.

AAADRIIAANNNNN.