by Henry VIII attends a boxercise class and discovers that modern combat training answers primarily to a playlist rather than any actual enemy
I once trained an army to fight with genuine, mortal purpose, every drill preparing men for actual combat. Boxercise class simply wanted me to punch the air in precise time with a playlist chosen, apparently, entirely for its tempo rather than any tactical relevance whatsoever.
The Warm Up
The instructor, a relentlessly cheerful man named Marlon, led a warm up involving considerably more stretching than any actual battle preparation I once personally oversaw, and I found myself genuinely struggling to touch my own toes, a limitation I attributed diplomatically to my armour rather than my actual flexibility.
The Shadow Boxing
Shadow boxing, thrown at an invisible opponent purely for cardiovascular benefit, struck me initially as a genuinely strange concept, having spent considerable energy in my original life avoiding unnecessary combat rather than manufacturing it purely for exercise, and yet I found the whole exercise, once I committed to it, surprisingly cathartic.
The Pad Work
Partnered with a stranger named Ben for pad work, I struck his held pads with what I believed was reasonable, controlled force, only for Marlon to call across the room that I was, in his words, absolutely not holding back, an observation I received as a genuine compliment despite Ben’s visibly aching arms afterward.
The Combination Sequence
A complex combination sequence, jab, cross, hook, repeated in time with the music, defeated me entirely for the first two attempts, my own footwork tangling itself into a genuinely undignified mess that drew sympathetic laughter from the rest of the class, myself included once the initial embarrassment passed.
The Cool Down
The final cool down, conducted in near silence after forty five minutes of relentless energy, produced a genuine, meditative calm I had not expected from a room that had, minutes earlier, sounded like an actual skirmish, and I lay on the mat afterward feeling more thoroughly spent than most actual jousting tournaments ever managed.
The Verdict
I have signed up for a full course of six sessions, Ben having agreed, with visibly reduced enthusiasm, to remain my pad partner throughout. I once trained men for genuine warfare. I now train myself, weekly, for absolutely nothing except my own fitness and the pure, simple satisfaction of a well thrown combination, and I find I have missed the discipline more than I expected to.
The Six Sessions
I have signed up for a full course, Ben agreeing, with visibly reduced enthusiasm, to remain my pad partner throughout. I once trained men for genuine warfare. I now train myself weekly for nothing except fitness, and find I have missed the discipline more than expected.
Discipline missed is discipline worth rebuilding, one session at a time. I have missed this discipline more than I expected to admit. Boxercise bears more relation to the jousting accident than Marlon probably realises. Further reading on the wider chaos of modern Britain: the original account of my own return to Britain, the proper London pub where history finally sat down for a pint, London’s own booming trade in teeth whitening for residents who can no longer afford to smile.
