Who Knew I Loved Kickboxing? A Tribute to Matt and His Class

I joined the YMCA on March 1, 2023.  I tried a number of different types of classes.  I liked indoor cycling, but yoga wasn't for me.  I enjoyed Zumba, and I hated Barre.  I was just trying as many things as I could to find what I might want to do regularly.  On March 8, I left school and said to my friends, "Well, tonight I try kickboxing.  That should be interesting."  

I approached Matt, the instructor, as I did in all new classes, and said, "I've never done this before.  What do I need to know?"  His response was, "Well, first of all, don't take yourself too seriously."  This was good advice for someone who was trying new things and likely to be pretty bad at most of them for a while.  What I found was not just a workout, but a source of joy.  It was the first class that I knew I would return to every single week.  When I called my mom that night, I said, "It turns out I love kickboxing.  Who knew?"  This class quickly became and has remained the highlight of my week for the past fourteen months.  When Matt was out of town, I took something else and enjoyed it, but I always felt that week was missing something.  Every Wednesday night, I looked forward to jabbing, crossing, uppercutting, kicking, and grinning from ear to ear while Matt bounced around the room, shining glitter down on every member of the class.  

There is something truly special about watching a person do what he loves, and you can tell Matt loves teaching this class.  He feeds off of the energy in the room.  I also have Matt in a weightlifting class, and he is fantastic in that one too, but I have told him before that watching him teach kickboxing is like sitting in a window with sunlight coming through it.  There is just a warmth and joy in it that is exceptional. 

This week, we had the last kickboxing class we are likely to have for a while (although I'm still trying to write the perfect comment card to get it back), and I am so sad I don't really have words.  I plan to write next week about the neurological reasons your brain finds all change stressful, so I won't go into that here; but we all know that some changes are more painful than others.  I've been thinking a lot about why that is.  Here's the conclusion I've reached.  If your heart is broken by a loss, it indicates that the thing you had was irreplaceably special.  (I have the Coldplay song running through my head - "Tears stream down your face. When you lose something you cannot replace.")  This class was just that - an irreplaceably special source of joy, love, and confidence in my life. While I am not losing Matt because I will still have him in the weightlifting class, the joy of his kickboxing class is not something that can be replicated.  I am so grateful to have had it for the last fourteen months.  Multiply that joy by the 20 years he has been teaching it and the number of "mes" there have been, and there is a lot of joy in the world now that there would not have been if it had not been for Matt's faithful service to the Y.

Thank you, Matt, for the love you put into teaching.  Thank you for being an amazing educator.  Thank you for putting up with me when I am clingy and possessive and "a little much."  Thank you for being a reference for me.  Thank you for the twenty years you have taught such a beautiful class.