No pain, no Muay Thai

I’ve spent many years navigating the male-dominated world of iron and ego – otherwise known as the gym.

‍I’m well-versed in steeling myself against unsolicited form advice and sleazy advances, but the world of martial arts is an entirely new beast.

After watching a Muay Thai fight and thinking, This looks so sick! I decided to book a plane ticket and rawdog a three-week intensive training camp in Thailand, just hoping that I wouldn’t completely hate it. 

Welcome to the jungle

Pulling up at Sinbi Gym in Phuket, it was a mission to find my accommodation, but I found the gym with ease. The cacophony of grunts and shouts, the rhythmic slap of gloves on pads, and the chaotic energy could all be heard from a block away. Suffice to say, I was intimidated. 

Inside, Thai trainers – actual fighters, some even famous champions that had fought in the prestigious Lumpinee and Rajadamnern Stadiums – trained alongside and coached clueless tourists like me.

They greeted me with warm smiles and wrapped my hands for boxing with the utmost care and attentiveness that is so emblematic of Thai culture. It probably didn’t hurt to be a decent-looking white girl.

Meet the team

What’s unique about Muay Thai – the Art of Eight Limbs – is that it attracts colourful characters from all over the world. Walking into the gym was like embarking on an ethnographic study of humanity.

In one corner, a fitness influencer unabashedly recruited her friend to film her twerking on the floor during class – go off, queen. In another, young men were aggressively punching bags, seemingly exorcising personal demons that probably warranted a therapist more than a Muay Thai coach. 

And then there were the fighters: mostly foreigners who had moved to the island to dedicate their lives to the professional fight circuit. Their austere demeanour, always showing up to training like they were going to war, contrasted the Thai trainers (also fighters), who were playful; always teasing, prodding and laughing.

The first time I did push-ups, a couple of the trainers, astonished, asked point-blank, “You a man?” – the highest compliment for a female gym rat!

Bruises: a badge of honour

There was a hint of madness in everyone training at the gym. Voluntarily annihilating your body in 90% humidity and suppressing the biological impulse for self-preservation requires you to be, at least partially, unhinged.

People often left class early, on the verge of throwing up. If your shins aren’t covered in bruises by the end, you aren’t training hard enough—because as Thais say, “no pain, no Muay Thai”. 

Despite my initial enthusiasm, the daily double training session that fighters adhere to was overly ambitious. I managed two sessions in one day once before resigning myself to a single session routine.

Pushing your physical limits can morph into a quasi-spiritual experience.

There’s something about the threat of being clocked square in the face that forces you into a flow state, so that two hours later you realise you’ve been fully present – an elusive feat for the seasoned office worker. Muay Thai isn’t just about fitness; it’s about cultivating mental clarity and locating the grit within you.

Values and bonds forged

The five core principles of Muay Thai: Respect, Honour, Tradition, Fair-play, and Excellence, aren’t just empty corporate buzzwords; they’re lived values that shape how the trainers, fighters, and even tourists approach the art.

There is a deep connection and respect shared by everyone training at a Muay Thai gym. The camaraderie was unlike anything I’d experienced back home, where gyms are often individualistic and transactional (which, don’t get me wrong, has its own merit too).  

A trainer and pro fighter nicknamed Speed, would show up every day to coach the beginner group through the same basic movements, always bringing phenomenal energy as if it was his first time teaching them.

The Thai trainers would frequently put their bodies on the line to hold pads for advanced students, even while training for their own fights. They seemed to genuinely love sharing their culture and practice with eager foreigners, and they fostered a vibrant and tight community around the sport.

Fight nights

One Saturday night, I watched a live Muay Thai fight, the go-to alternative to partying for tourists committed to their training.

The most captivating moment always comes before the fight begins: fighters perform the Wai Kru, a ritual of choreographed movements paying respect to their teachers, parents and ancestors.

Then, in the most entertaining spectacle, they move with power and grace to the rhythm of traditional Sarama music, punctuated by absurdist commentary so loud it threatens to take out your eardrums, while flashing neon lights add dramatic flair. 

While brutality and violence are coded into many team sports like ice hockey or rugby and epitomised in combat sports, Muay Thai represents a striking divergence.

Instead of glorifying aggression, it dictates that respect be shown to anyone brave enough to step into the ring.

A fighter can win by knockout with one brutal strike to the head, only to bow in traditional Thai fashion, palms pressed together, in reverence to their defeated opponent’s strewn-out body – an amusingly contradictory scene. 

For me, fight night wouldn’t be complete without a subsequent tryst with an international fighter champion – after all, the trip couldn’t be all business!

Bringing Muay Thai home

The first thing I did when I got back to Melbourne was find a local gym – of course, it couldn’t compare to Thailand, but it would tide me over until my next trip. Every woman who has ventured into combat sports knows that some gyms can feel less welcoming, especially for beginners.

I was lucky enough to find the Australian Combat Sports Academy, with top-tier coaches and a stellar culture and community. Now I train three to four times a week, alongside my regular gym workouts, and it’s always the highlight of my day.

What I took away from the training camp in Thailand wasn’t just physical skills, but also the confidence that comes from being vulnerable and thriving in a new space, the discipline to keep showing up, and the validation of my internal capabilities. 

Should you try it?

If you’re curious, go for it. You don’t need to know what you’re doing. Just be willing to sweat profusely, laugh at yourself, be respectful of the culture and embrace the awkwardness of learning something new.

You’ll leave stronger, inside and out—with a few bruises to prove it.

Hero image 📸 Jonathan Tomas