I was, understandably, very anxious about the situation in which I found myself.
A figure, taller than me and dressed in black, stood uncomfortably close to me with a strong, powerful, and menacing stance. My hands were warm and clammy.
The figure stared at me, and then struck to punch me in the face. From that point, everything moved in slow in motion.
I swatted the figure's arm with my right arm, grabbed it with my left arm and turned and twisted the puncher's arm around their back.
I smiled and nodded my head. I'd got it right.
"You're getting the hang of it, let's try doing it quicker now," My kickboxing partner said. She was about my age, but wore a coloured belt and knew what she was doing. Her legs and arms had flown unnervingly close to my face already that hour.
I laughed. Slow motion is about as fast as I can go so far. "I won't be very good if someone attacks me in the street," I replied, "I know what to do now, but I'll have to stop and ask them to slow down so I can retaliate!"
"You're doing alright. There are a lot of moves to take in at first. You'll get the hang of it."
"I find it easier to master if I make noises along to the moves. Rah, HUH, rur, Argh, OOF!" It makes me feel like Bruce Lee. Or a Wimbledon tennis player on a rampage.
Yes indeed, some of my workmates and I have started kickboxing, just for fun, just on a whim. And it was fun, kicking and punching the air and then blocking our partner's attacks in slow motion. I think we'll go back next week at least, because we'll get to throw people about. Shoplifters beware.