This is my second official class of Krav Maga, but I’m just as nervous as I was the first time I walked in the building. When I see other women are there, I relax a little. I’m not really sure why.

We start warming up by running around the room and stretching our muscles.

I pair up with K, a shorter, petite woman, to practice straight punches. It takes a minute to get back into it.

Left, right.
Punch, punch.
Punch, punch.

My left arm isn’t as strong or as fast as my right. I can feel the power in my right strike.

After a few minutes of this, one of the instructors stops the class. What is the point of Krav Maga, he asks. Self-defense, we answer.

“Look, we can’t pay someone to attack you. This is your time to practice these moves. So practice them at full power. Practice them here so that you will be prepared out there.”

We start throwing punches again. I feel renewed energy. I think about someone attacking me and being forced to defend myself. Anger starts to boil up and I increase the speed of my left punch and put my weight into my right. The instructor walks behind me, yelling “Better! Good!”

I look down at my right hand. My middle knuckle is rubbed raw. I imagine going into work tomorrow all beat up… I can’t wait!

Our trainer adds another two steps to the combination. Left strike, right strike, step to the right of your opponent and punch into their side. When they drop their arm to protect their side, they expose their face and “that’s when you knock their head off,” he tells us. It’s like setting the opponent up for a knockout. He won’t even know what hit him.

I take it slow at first. Training my body to do what my mind is already starting to comprehend. I lightly tap my fist into the focus mitt as I memorize each step, acclimating my body to the feel of the movements. It’s almost like learning a dance.

Now that my body has felt the general movement, I start throwing real punches, putting all my weight into it. Taking a step toward my opponent feels alien, because my initial reaction would be to put space between me and them. But that’s the difference between Krav Maga and anything else I’ve ever seen: once you start defending yourself, you never back down until it’s over.

I go again, putting all my weight behind the final “head removing” punch. The instructor walks behind me again and pats me on the back, “Good! Good!” he says. I glow a little with pride and throw another hard hit. K’s body moves slightly with every throw.

When we switch places, I feel the power of K’s strikes hitting the mitts. I’m glad there is something between me and her fists. She’s a petite woman, but I can tell she could do some damage.

Now we move on to a defensive move. What if someone grabs your hair from the front. I’ve done this before in the previous class. K grabs my hair. My hands slap down on her fist, elbows closing in, and I thrust my body downward. Her wrist audibly pops. Guess it works. I take a few steps backward, her hand still lodged underneath my hands. When I look up she’s on her knees being dragged along the mats. I think I’ve got this defense down.

What if your attacker tries to grab your hair and knee you in the face? The instructors demonstrate the combination. Block their incoming knee with your left hand and simultaneously (or near simultaneously) swing your right hand up into the groin, almost like your bowling. Follow that up with solid punch to the face. Block, swipe, punch. Block, swipe, punch.

After class, I feel different about my surroundings. I’ve always walked with a bit of authority, silently sending out the message that you don’t want to mess with me. The difference is now I know I could actually do something if someone were to really attack me.