For two months I
stayed on Ko Samui to learn Thailand’s national sport Muay Thai. It is a
brutal martial art where your arsenal of eight weapons are punches, kicks, knees and
elbows.
Historically I'd never been a fan of contact sports. I’d never thrown a punch or been
hit properly (sober) myself. I gave up judo aged eight because someone thumped me. But a buddy I met in
Laos, Kettering kickboxer Jamie, inspired me to give Muay Thai a shot for a month.
And isn’t that the
point of travelling? A break from the norm.
I ended up enjoying myself so much I extended
my stay by two weeks, twice!
When I arrived at the
gym on day one, I felt like Mr Bean walking into a Mr Universe contest. In the
gym, Thai professional fighters were slamming the pads and punch bags. Months of travelling and beer drinking had taken a toll on my fitness and even the gym’s pet cat was
in better shape than me.
I soon picked up my
first title. I was easily the sweatiest person in the gym. At times I was made
to train on the carpet or outside. By the end of each two-hour session, I would
have been drier if I’d gone swimming. You’ll have to
forgive me. Ko Samui is a tropical island, it was a constant and very humid 34
degrees and the training was the most intense exercise I have ever done.
There were sessions twice a day. These consisted of a two-mile run, stretching,
shadow-boxing, then three rounds on a boxing bag, three rounds punching tyres
and three rounds with a trainer on pads. All this interspersed with a minimum
of 200 press-ups and 200 sit-ups. The gym was closed on Sundays, thank God (arf arf).
I averaged five sessions per week to begin with,
but by my last week I managed 10 sessions.
Though I’m not sure I
expected to, I loved Muay Thai and I loved the experience of learning something
completely new. There’s no way I would have put in so many hard hours of
exercise without that.
After five weeks of
learning the basics, I started sparring. Muay Thai is a brutal contact sport
and I needed to get used to it. Somehow in my first session, I managed to give
Farokh, the nicest guy in the world, a black eye. We met for dinner that
evening and he wore an orphanage volunteer souvenir T-shirt whilst sporting the
shiner I’d given him. Part of me was proud as punch and part of me thought
there was probably a special place in hell reserved for me.
As I continued to spar with different partners
over the next weeks, it turned out that battering each other in the face is
actually great fun and a real bonding experience. I received my fair share of
black eyes, split lips plus a thoroughly boshed shnoz.
Throughout my time in
the gym, the fantastic trainers took great pleasure in winding me up. The
owner’s estimation for how many years of hard training it would take me to turn
professional varied between one and ten, but averaged at about five.
Once, I even caught my favourite trainer (a real prankster) trying to sneak a breezeblock into my gym bag!
I was fortunate
enough to carry the England flag to the ring for my friend Jamie’s first
stadium fight in Thailand, which was a nice honour. It was a close-fought fight that went the distance and the judges awarded a win on points to his local opponent. I was also out-waved by
my opposite flag-bearer, but I blame the fact the England flag was attached to its handle with sticky tape and the opposition’s Thailand flag was a steel-ringed beauty.
It's fair to say that Ko Samui is not my
favourite place in the world. I was based at Lamai beach. A 10-minute walk in
the wrong direction and you’ll pass hooker bars, Irish pubs, a Subway, hooker
bars, a dog grooming parlour, hooker bars and a McDonalds’s. But 10
minutes the other way and there are buffalo grazing amongst palm tree forests.
Lamai’s most famous
sights are two rocks, shaped like a willy and a fanny respectively. This is appropriate since the place
is home to a rogues gallery of ex-pats, all-too-often wearing Hawaiian shirts,
far-too-short shorts, some unacceptable form of facial hair and a Thai bird on
their arm.
I'm allowed to be worthy since my sole purpose in
being there was for the Muay Thai training. I was clean living on a dirty
island. I drunk two beers in two months!
Conclusions: I’m certainly not
a natural fighter but I trained hard. If you’re expecting to see Rocky, you’re in for a horror
show, but I could certainly beat the shit out of the version of myself from eight weeks
ago. And I guess that’s the point.
I literally worked
my tits off. I feel stronger, healthier and fitter than I ever have. I lost over a stone and for the first time in my adult life I have abdominal muscles . I never had them as a kid, either.
Considering the hours
I’ve put in across the last eight weeks, I’d have to rate this experience as one of
my top three all-time personal achievements alongside making Tim Vine laugh and
scoring a goal at The Emirates. For now though I’m hanging up my gloves and retiring undefeated.
Here is the MUAY
THAI: WHAT I ACTUALLY DO meme poster that I made as a leaving gift for the gym. I’ve been informed it’s been laminated and put on the office door, which is a
real honour:
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