Asphalt Hurts

So I went out for my little three mile jog this evening. The weather was beautiful. I felt so good, I decided to push my pace up a notch.

At about the half-mile point, my right foot caught a buckle in the asphalt.

My ankle didn’t twist.

I didn’t stumble.

Nope. In an instant I went from a completely vertical position, to a completely horizontal position.

Luckily, when I landed, my face avoided contact with the pavement. My chin and nose just sort of “kissed” the asphalt as the rest of my body landed and then skidded across the street.

Unfortunately, when I landed, only my face and feet where spared.

The damage report: both knees are scraped, the right knee is pretty swollen, the palms of both hands lost a layer of flesh, the fingers on my left hand are nicked and cut, my right fore arm is skinned, and I have brush burns on my thighs and stomach.

Adrenaline is a beautiful thing. I popped back up and jogged my bloodied body home.

The fall proved to be the most pleasant part of this experience. As I went through the process of scrubbing bits of dirt and gravel from my open wounds, I alternately felt like I was going to either throw up or pass out.

Asphalt hurts.

A Painful Predicament

The clinic last night was long and tiring.

My right calf no longer works the way it is supposed to.

Tomorrow’s test will be very interesting.

ARGH!

So I went to class this evening and had possibly the worst class ever. Two different black belts worked with me and totally tore apart every single thing that I did.

Not what I needed to have happen when I’m less than a week away from testing. Does anyone know the meaning of positive reinforcement? What about some good old-fashioned bald-face lies? That’s what I need right now.

On top of that, I’ve guilted myself into attending a clinic Friday night. I hope I don’t cripple myself with lactic acid two days before the test…I’m sure I will though.

Tempting, but “No”

Lefty and I headed down to NO this morning to run in the Crescent City Fall Classic. It’s a 5K–about all I can handle at this point.

My pace prior to the race was about a 10-minute mile. I finished at 33:01. So I guess I should be happy with the time.

I think one of the things I take a sick pleasure in doing is sizing up the competition at the start of the race. Amongst the combatants in my pack was a 75-year-old man in circa 1985 running tights, a loose-fitting muscle-shirt and a fanny pack. When I’m 75, I want to be like him–running, showing more of my body than any one could possibly want to see, and making a bunch of smart-ass youngsters work way harder than they think they should have to in order to pass my old, flabby ass.

While the old guy amused and inspired me, I found myself holding nothing but contempt for all the younglings running near me. Is the concept of setting a pace alien? Here is what I imagine is going through their vacuous brains:

Run fast, stomp pavement, run fast, stomp pavement, pain in chest, run faster, run louder, burning sensation in chest, cut-off middle-age fat lady, dead stop in front of her, need air, must breathe, being passed up, oxygen good, run fast, stomp pavement, run fast, stomp pavement, pain in chest, run faster, run louder, burning sensation in chest, cut-off middle-age fat lady, dead stop in front of her

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Run or walk, pick one!!!!!

I guess I’ve reached a point in my life in which a fanny pack is more appealing than a tight ass.

Perspective

This morning brought with it some much needed perspective.

I allowed myself to get pretty worked up about testing yesterday. My body ached…aggravated lower back, sore hand, throbbing foot, bruised ego. My emotions were raw.

Testing doesn’t seem so significant today. Failing one test isn’t going to discourage me enough to discontinue training.

I’m not in this for anyone else but me. It is a selfish endeavor. It doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks of my efforts. Recognition from others is certainly nice and it is definitely motivating. However, it isn’t the most important part of training. What matters most is that I try my hardest and that I know I have given my best.

When my back is about to give out, when my knees are screaming, when every muscle in my body is trembling, no one else’s assessment of the situation matters. If I know I’m giving the best I can at any point, others can scream until they’re blue in the face, it won’t change my physical limitations.

I’m never going to look like a 19-year-old martial artist. My spinning back kick will never be a beautiful thing to see. I’m okay with that. That doesn’t mean I won’t try to make it look better or be stronger.

I also know that I shouldn’t allow myself to feel guilty if I’m unable to schedule my training when it is convenient for others. I’ll go to class when I’m able to, I’ll learn or refine whatever it is we work on in that class, I won’t be guilted in to believing that I’m an undedicated student because I’m not able to make it to a particular class.

As much as I hate to admit it, a good deal of my angst yesterday was rooted in the notion that I had of making it to black belt “on schedule.” Meaning, this time next year I would have been testing for black belt. Yesterday’s test blew that right out of the sky. A black belt would be a nice achievement to reach, but maybe the time frame I set for myself is unrealistic. I’m older than most people training and it takes me longer to learn most things. I have a chronic back problem that limits my ability to stretch and move. I have a young family I want to spend time with and a rigid training program is stressful for all of us.

I’ll train when I can and I’ll learn what I’m able to learn in the time I have.

A Late Afternoon Nap

I am so tired. Not sleepy tired. More like my body has no fuel, tired.

It has to be the Atkins, if it were depression I’d be sleepy not fatigued.

Let me officially declare that Day Two of induction sucks. I have no supply of carbs in my body. I think I’ll be okay once the body switches over to fat burning. I’m hoping that will happen any minute now. I’d like to go back to my normal state of being depressed and sleepy. Being hungry and worn out isn’t as fulfilling.

Speaking of being worn-out, I need to go in to karate tonight. Lefty said something about belt promotions being this evening. I’ll be okay if all I have to do is sit cross-legged on the floor for an hour. I think even the pre-class warm-up would cause me to pass-out, that is how little energy I have.

Of course, I’m making the assumption that I passed testing. I haven’t seen Sa Bum Nim since testing, so if I didn’t pass, he hasn’t had an opportunity to tell me that I did not. Which means I could potentially sit in class, anxiously awaiting my turn to receive my next blue stripe, only to have Sa Bum Nim call Lefty and then call RBJ.

I know I’ve said after previous tests that my performance sucked and I don’t feel like I passed. I REALLY mean it this time. I don’t know how I possibly accumulated enough points to pass. Unfortunately I find myself in the position of wishing for pitty points. I believe this puts me in the company of RBB and RBC. I should be ashamed of myself.

Not Ready, Again

Testing time again. Trying to get from 3rd gup to 2nd gup. Despite my better judgement, I’m going ahead and ponying up the fifty bucks so I can test on schedule. Today I am preparing myself emotionally for the battering I’m sure will take place tomorrow. My form stinks. I can remember only half of my self-defense techniques. Terminology–what’s that. My only hope is that I’m not individually singled out for shaming. I think I can handle a little red-belt group shame, I just don’t want to be the only one put on the short bus.

That Looked Painful

“That looked painful.” Not something you want to hear when your Sa Bum Nim is watching you perform a technique. Yet, that is what I heard last night from my instructor as we worked on jumping, spinning, back kick. Yes, it was painful, in oh so many ways.

Physically painful to execute. My lower back just can’t handle jumping while tucking one leg under and throwing the other leg straight out behind…oh yeah and turning in mid-air at the same time.

Mentally painful to execute. My brain didn’t understand how it was supposed to coordinate the turning,jumping, spinning, kicking, while keeping the hands tucked close to the body. So naturally, it just sent the message to arms and legs to make everything look like crap.

Visually painful to watch, at least for Sa Bum Nim. Although I didn’t actually see it myself, I know it looked horrendous. However, the looks of amusement on the faces of people watching class lead me to believe they were seeing something bordering on comical.

I’m a Follower

I lead the karate class through warm-up and basics yesterday. I felt bad for the adults in class. I had to ask for help with Korean commands, and take suggestions from them on what we could do next. Sa Bum Nim was not in the building for most of my incredibly painful experience. It’s amazing how difficult it is to remember things we you have a group of people hanging on your every word.

Testing is tomorrow. I go back and forth between not being worried at all and being terrified. If all goes well at testing, I’ll be a red built sometime in February. It’s a bit weird to think about.

We also officially put the house up for sale last night. I pray it won’t be months before we have a buyer…I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the stress.

I Don’t Know What Happened

Ark, my nine-year-old who has hated karate since we joined…well “hate” is too strong, he likes getting promoted, he just dislikes doing everything one needs to do in order to get promoted. Anyway, he has whined and/or thrown a temper-tantrum prior to almost every karate class he’s attended. That is until the last month or so.

Last night he decides he loves karate, he can’t get enough of it. In fact, he loves it so much that he wants to share his love for the martial art with other karate kids throughout the world.

How is he going to share the love? He wants to write two karate books: “Gup Goodies” and “Dan Doings.” He’s really jazzed about “Gup Goodies.” He started jotting down ideas he has for the book when we got home from karate last night. He’s a little worried about how he’s going to know what to put in “Dan Doings” but he’s pretty sure Sa Bum Nim will be so wowed by his book ideas that he’ll help fill in the information gaps. He also knows about a web site that will turn his English written books into Korean…yeah, I know, but he’s nine, the concept of linguistic complexities is beyond his ability to comprehend.

The most bizarre thing about this is that I think this has all come about over the last few weeks because of the love he has for a certain green belt (soon-to-be red belt) who is, let’s see, more than 20 years his senior.