I giggled as I descended to the basement level of a building where the Church Street Boxing Gym is located and where I was about to take an introductory boxing class on Friday evening.
A woman who had signed up for the class and was changing in the locker room told me that she thought taking up boxing was a great way to meet men.
My great concern about MRSA in the locker rooms, another woman came forward and showed me her infected forearm. She had open wounds on both her arms. This person claimed the staph infections had gone away but were back. Did she consider that she might be putting other people as risk by exercising in the gym?
I was appalled at the sight of the gym member's open sores and then later asked the manager if there had been similar cases at the gym and what measures they were taking to prevent it. He assured me that the gym was sanitized each night. I'm still haunted by the woman's arms.
Okay, watching me jump rope, punch a bag and a trainer's mitt is no substitute for being a spectator at a round. I have new found respect for the legacy of Joe Louis and M. Ali. I want to return to the gym for a kickboxing class but must first decide if I should report the MRSA case to the authorities. I could be exiled from the premises if I snitch.
After my class, I called Gavino who sang me the theme to the film Rocky and then made me pasta and pesto from scratch for dinner.