Thai Fighting as a Hobby? How I Got into Muaythai
If you are not already involved in martial arts to some extent, you may have considered getting into it at some point. You may have returned to it on more than one occasion but still feel unsure of the best route.
Combat sports have always been a point of interest for young men, and the Thai style of fighting continues to grow in prominence on the global martial arts stage. Commonly known as Muaythai (literally translated as ‘boxing Thai’), this style is now widely considered the king of stand-up striking arts. It may thus appeal to anyone looking to develop physically and confidently.
However, taking that first step toward getting involved is often the most difficult for many. There are plenty of reasons for this, including how easy it is to hook yourself up with the style that is best for you.
And, of course, finding a reputable and established operation to train in often involves a fair amount of trial and error, depending on the level and personal goals you have in mind. Your underlying reasons for wanting to train will be one of the prime motivating factors and will help to determine any decisions.
Perhaps a few details of how I got into Muaythai might help clear the way for any potential budding combat sports enthusiasts.
Going the Whole Hog—From Burton to Bangkok
Like many young boys, I had always wanted to get involved in some martial art but lacked the access or wherewithal to pull it off. I eventually managed to secretly ensconce myself in a Lau Gar Kung Fu class aged 16, which wasn’t what I needed, but it sparked initial interest and got the ball rolling.
In the 15 years of training in the U.K. that followed, I ventured into karate, taekwondo, boxing, and, eventually, kickboxing. I believed I had found a hybrid style that was more fluid and less formal than many martial arts in kickboxing.
However, after pursuing this discipline to full-contact competition that led to the British Championships and eventually reaching the level of black belt instructor and running my own small but successful club, I was still plagued by a strong nagging sensation that something was amiss. This came to a head when, after deciding to compete in full-contact kickboxing to gain more ring experience, I got worked over badly enough in a semi-final bout to make me seriously reconsider my options.
I came away questioning my style and training thus far—none of my ‘black belt techniques’ had seemed to work, and I was at something of a loss after that match-up. I questioned my former instructors (none of whom were fighters) and their largely clueless methodology.
It seemed that maybe none of the stuff I had learned from a kickboxing belt syllabus was effective in a full-contact scenario. (In hindsight, it wasn’t the techniques themselves that had failed—rather their application.)
What Next, Then?
I had thought that Thai boxing might be the answer as it seemed to close a few of the gaps encountered in kickboxing. My interest in the art with eight striking weapons instead of four and the addition of stand-up grappling kills had steadily grown. It seemed a more complete and effective system in terms of tools and range, based on my kickboxing experiences.
On top of that, it looked much more graceful— almost effortless when executed properly. So I decided to do what any right-minded English male on the wrong side of 30 would do—quit my job, sell everything, and head off for Bangkok.
Why Would Anyone Do That?
Good question—especially in hindsight. But if you are yet to discover this simple fact, there is no growth in comfort, and why would you get into martial arts anyway if you are seeking comfort?
My general and growing dissatisfaction with martial arts instruction in the U.K. was also a major factor in my decision (which was reinforced by a trip back in 2019 to complete a UFC Gym Coaching Certification).
So it was with some degree of trepidation that I arrived in Bangkok. I hooked myself up with a daily schedule at an admittedly grotty-looking backstreet Thai gym on just one recommendation. The routine was punishing, to say the least, with one session lasting between 3 and 5 hours daily.
The first learning curve came from the realization that I wasn’t nearly as fit as I had thought after training with people who do this for a living. On top of the sudden (massive) increase in training intensity, there were adaptations to climate, food, and all sorts of other factors to consider.
The first three months were no picnic, and I came close to quitting on many occasions—not just from the physical hardship of the training, but the first gym I went to had no techniques to teach other than the ones I already knew. REAL Thai boxing gyms are not the friendliest of places, so if you find yourself surrounded by smiling trainers telling you how good you are after your first week, you’re being had.
They also seemed put out by the fact that they couldn’t beat me down or their ‘tricks’ so easily and soon lost interest as they didn’t know what to do with me. After repeating a similar experience in 2 or 3 other gyms that spanned seven years in all, I eventually got a recommendation from one of the trainers regarding a place where I would find real instruction from someone familiar with training foreigners.
I turned up the next week and found that the owner/trainer of this gym was someone I had encountered back in the U.K. through a Muaythai seminar. He had no recollection of ever meeting me before this, though, and set a date for me to get going with some training. This featured the usual humbling—the ‘initiation’ if you like—to see if I would return or not.
I did, and fairly ‘completed’ my training at this gym. This was a grandmaster with 40 years of experience. He was stern, old-fashioned, and ALL about technique—specifically its application (hurrah!).
I followed his instruction and pointers closely, albeit painstakingly at times. When everything finally clicked into place, I felt I had discovered the missing links to all my previous training episodes. I also realized that the principles I learned here would carry over into any other stand-up combat style.
Long story short—I was lucky enough to train with him for another three years or more until his demise from ill health. But I had gotten what I came for. I got it.
I got it because the methodology involved forced me to see and feel it through my own direct experience—more than a few ‘a-ha’ moments there, especially as the Bossman decided I was instructor material and decided to train me from that angle (as I was already into my forties).
And the Bottom Line?
My efforts and resolve came down to ‘if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing completely’—going the whole hog if you want to know. Of course, this approach is fairly extreme and won’t be for everyone. However, getting real training that will allow you to accomplish your goals is important.
Certainly, there’s nothing wrong with turning up 2-3 times per week at your local gym and enjoying the sport as a hobby. The benefits to this type of training are endless—keep in mind it won’t make you into a fighter or take you to the ‘essence’ of the art or style.
Martial art training differs for different people, but it should always be a vehicle for effort and overcoming your personal (perceived) limitations. Conquer your fears and hone your dedication and resolve. This has a huge carry-over into other areas of life.
So do you need to move to another country to do this? Definitely not! But the point is this—the higher the bar and the more discomfort involved, the more growth you will experience. And being honest with yourself is crucial here as this is the type of growth you may find you need rather than want.
This can be found in pretty much any physical pursuit. But you must first need it, hear the call, and then start taking the necessary steps towards realizing it, however uncomfortable or challenging they may seem. The better version of yourself you may seek is waiting just around the corner to meet you!
