Whack! A kick pad slams down on my core. “No pain, no Muay Thai!” exclaims my coach. I’m gasping for air and covered in sweat after an intense two minutes of pad work, but between rounds there are HIIT-like exercises that range from squats to burpees. Now, I’m trying my best to do a sit-up in the midst of regaining composure. All the while, one of the impish trainers, who has been my biggest cheerleader since I stepped foot into Watchara Gym, is testing my limits. Whack! He smiles in the most mischievous yet genuinely encouraging way as the pad clashes against my torso once more. It’s the type of grin that implies “you’ve got this” while silently pushing me to improve. And as much as I groaned or struggled, I was living for every second of it.

My Muay Thai journey kicked off at the start of 2025 with a class at Four Seasons Koh Samui. The resort’s instructor, a former pro fighter, is a lean, muscular machine. So when he told me he’d demonstrate what a low kick feels like, he instantly clocked the fear in my eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll only give you 10% of my power,” he said reassuringly. And yet, that 10% felt like a hot iron had struck my calf. I wondered, would he be able to snap my fibula in half if he gave it his all? It was impactful, to say the least. So much so that I signed up for two more sessions. I was immediately hooked and quickly made mental plans to return to Thailand so that I could dive into the sport.

When I first told my best friends that I wanted to learn Muay Thai, their first question was, “What is that?” After simplifying it as Thai boxing their follow-up was, “Whose ass are you trying to kick?” While I don’t have a hit list, my intentions also weren’t to fight or defend myself—though the latter is a great reason to pick up the sport. Instead, I found it to be an enjoyable workout and noticed it lifted my mood. Not only was it invigorating, but it also provided mental clarity.

To backpedal a little more, in the years leading up to discovering Muay Thai, I had been going through a difficult time. You see, there’s a difference between loneliness and emptiness. I’m often alone. I travel at least 80% of the year and the majority of it is solo. But I rarely feel lonely. As an only child, I grew up learning how to find comfort in solitude. Empty, on the other hand? Emptiness is dark. And I had to face the reality that that’s what I had been feeling. What was once fulfilling had since turned into a chore. I had low self-esteem and lost all self-confidence. Worst of all, I didn’t know what my purpose was anymore. Empty. But when I picked up Muay Thai, something clicked.

Almost exactly a year after my introductory class on Koh Samui, I found myself walking around central Bangkok, weaving in and out of nearly a dozen Muay Thai gyms. Rooftop, backyard, outdoors, indoors, weight training machines, bare minimum equipment—they all had their share of pros and cons, but none had felt quite right until I walked into Watchara. Tucked away on the fringe of the city’s bustling Watthana neighborhood down an inconspicuous road, it was small enough that I wouldn’t feel like another number, but still had enough space for several bags and a ring. Group classes involve multiple coaches, providing an opportunity for variety. Plus, it’s air-conditioned. In a place where pollution can reach harmful conditions and winter still calls for 90 degrees, a cool, enclosed space makes a significant difference.

On my first day, I could barely get through warm-up. The candid truth is that I went into this ridiculously out of shape. I hadn’t consistently worked out in years. I could feel that my muscles had atrophied. Unsurprisingly, it took me two days to recover, which I gave myself because the last thing I wanted to do was injure something at the start of this monthlong adventure. But by the third class, I began to watch my body slowly acclimate to vigorous strikes and shin-bruising kicks and was ready to give it my all every single day.

When I was initially planning this trip, I had considered training in Chiang Mai to limit distractions and immerse myself in a program, but ultimately (and rightly) came to the conclusion that I wasn’t ready for what would essentially be a full-blown boot camp. I also gravitated toward the idea of having everything that a vibrant city like Bangkok lends itself to: a diverse food scene (spoiler: I only ate Thai), nightlife (another spoiler: I only went out twice), and plenty of culture (temples, art, markets, and the like).

I’ve visited Bangkok more than half a dozen times, and while I’ve always enjoyed the city, it was never a place I had considered living in. But after about a week and a half of my monthlong trip, I started looking into long-term visa options. The primary catalyst was Muay Thai, but I also started to see Thailand’s capital in a new light. Underneath the surface-level chaos I noticed structure, like polite queuing at the Skytrain, walking on designated sides, and holding tables at markets with a pack of tissues. The traffic was still as horrendous as I remembered—my biggest gripe after the suffocating humidity—but I had finally built up the courage to hop on a moped, which made navigating the omnipresent congestion much easier. And having checked off most of the must-do attractions and renowned dining options on previous trips meant I had the freedom to explore lesser-known spots, many of which I prefer over their overhyped counterparts. Eventually, when I revisited the idea of moving here, I could begin to picture it. Well, at least during the cooler months.

For the final week, I decided to switch to private classes. I started at The Siam, a Bill Bensley–designed property along the Chao Phraya River in Bangkok’s quieter Dusit District. Not only is it the city’s preeminent boutique hotel, extolled for personalized service, an impressive antique collection, and beautiful landscaping—and a personal favorite that I’ve stayed at a few times—but it was also the first to offer a professionally equipped Muay Thai setup in a high-end setting. Here, I went back to the basics as the instructor patiently drilled form and technique into me. We’d build on it every morning, introducing new moves with each class. Which is also why if there’s one piece of advice I’d give to beginners, it’s that you should always take more than one class and try different gyms if needed. Because while Watchara’s group sessions were great for a workout and general practice, the attention I received at The Siam was like fine-tuning a car. He’d frequently correct me when my jabs weren’t landing correctly or didn’t turn my hips enough during kicks. It was less about exertion and instead focused on establishing a strong foundation.

The other benefit of training at The Siam meant I had an exceptional spa just steps away. Sure, I could pop into any of the hundreds of massage parlors in the city, but there’s nothing quite like walking into a serene sanctuary when every inch of your body hurts. And the property’s facility is as inviting as it gets, with a sunken welcome lounge centered around a gently trickling fountain where you’re given a refreshing drink before being ushered into a spacious treatment suite. There’s even a dedicated Muay Thai massage that combines traditional Thai methods (forearms, elbows, and stretching included) with deep tissue to relieve soreness.

After my stay, I took The Siam’s complimentary shuttle boat down to Four Seasons Hotel Bangkok at Chao Phraya River for a quasi-full-circle moment. While not Samui, it’s the brand’s latest property in Thailand and is one of many amongst the city’s recent luxury hotel boom. But what sets this property apart from other newcomers—in addition to its lauded cocktail bar, BKK Social Club—is that despite being in a densely populated metropolis where nearly every square foot is occupied by infrastructure, its quiet courtyard provides an escape from the cacophony while lush foliage brings a much-needed touch of nature that helps guests unwind. And just off the palm-fringed garden sits the spa and fitness center where there’s an alfresco ring.

In contrast to The Siam, the Four Seasons’ coach approaches the sport from a fitness perspective. The complimentary group class, part of the hotel’s rotating wellness programming, offers an accessible primer for first-timers. Private sessions open up the chance to take a deeper dive with a trainer who has been practicing the sport since he was a teen and has an intuitive ability to adapt to guests’ needs and skill level, adjusting drills accordingly. As soon as he realized I had prior experience, things turned up a notch. Combos were incorporated, advanced moves were added, and challenges specifically targeted to self-voiced inadequacies (I had expressed I couldn’t get a handle on speed kicks) were presented. Between exhausting rounds, cold jasmine-scented towels were at the ready, a thoughtful touch that’s representative of quintessential Four Seasons service. The cherry on top? Physiotherapy at the end of a one-on-one tussle. However that’s not to detract from the full-service spa, where deft-handed therapists melt every knot.

By the end of the month, I was already chomping at the bit to return. Had I not needed to leave for work, I would’ve extended my stay. What I thought was going to help jumpstart my weight loss journey has now become a driving force for everything I do. Hitting the gym is no longer just about shedding pounds—it’s about conditioning my body so that I can return stronger and better equipped for Muay Thai training. I now search for classes everywhere I go. I’m heavily considering basing myself out of Bangkok for part of the year. I even made two return trips in March when my travels brought me back to Asia.

Muay Thai this, Muay Thai that—I’ve turned into a broken record. Anyone I speak to about the sport asks me what exactly has me so addicted. A big part is that it allows me to shut my brain off from the outside world. My mind is invariably running a mile a minute, oscillating between work and life conundrums like a professional ping pong match. It’s exhausting. But once I wrap my hands and slip on gloves, the only thing I think about is how to move my body so that I can achieve that satisfying, thunderous clap when my limbs connect with a pad. And oddly enough, despite being perceived as violent, I not only leave every Muay Thai class feeling calmer and lighter, it’s also had a lasting impact on my overall temperament.

It’s no secret that physical and mental health are inextricably linked. But on further investigation, I learned that studies have shown a correlation between combat sports and higher BDNF (brain-derived neurotrophic factor) levels, a crucial protein for neuroplasticity that influences memory, cognitive function, and, voilà, mood stability. Furthermore, another study indicates that female patients suffering from depression have lower BDNF levels than men, who did not show a major difference from the control group. With that being said, BDNF levels are not the magical be-all, end-all solution to emotional struggles, but increasing them, especially as a woman, seems crucial.

Science aside, Muay Thai has also taught me discipline. Because when it comes to working out, we often make up excuses. Or at least I did. Too busy. Too tired. Too stressed. Too, too, too… And sure, there are some days where 24 hours truly aren’t enough to accomplish everything at hand, but the truth is that the “too” was oftentimes too lazy. There was one time I had gone into class completely checked out. I knew it, the trainers knew it, even my peers noticed. It was frustrating, but I showed up because I refused to fall into the same patterns of yesteryear. Which then served as a reminder to give myself grace and to check my ego at the door. At some point, everyone walks out of a session thinking, Damn, I sucked. And that’s fine. Whether you did or didn’t isn’t the point. The fact that you made an effort is what counts.

But what I ultimately realized was that Muay Thai wasn’t just about getting back into shape. It was an apology to myself. An atonement for constantly letting the excuses win. For every time I ignored my potential. It wasn’t about proving anything to anyone else. It was to prove to myself that I still had drive. That that little part of me I thought had been lost was still there. And I have to honor that.