Work on the Worst Part II or Fight Dirty
Sparring. . . gotta love it. In one 10 minute period of sparring this week, I think I said, "I’m sorry," about 15,000 times. I also blushed at least twice. These characteristics. . . apologizing and blushing. . . you wouldn’t think they’d come from someone who fights dirty, but I’m sad to report, they do. Apparently, Lil C has learned from her mother. The dirty fighter. . . it’s me.
It’s not on purpose. I truly think they are just a woman’s instincts. But because of these instincts, I told my instructor this week that I am going to buy him something special for Christmas. I’m sure you can figure out what it is. If my feet are going to continue to go jewel hunting, then he’s going to need some help. Not once, but twice my snap kick got way too close to causing some serious damage. It is not intentional at all. My instructor is a really nice person, the kind that makes you scratch your head and think, "Who do I know that I could fix him up with?" I’d like him to be able to have children in the future. Really, I would.
My first instinctual kick came up and under the gi jacket so much so that it sent the bottom of his gi jacket flying upwards violently. The owner of the dojo was in the room at the time, and both instructors let out a collective "Woah!" of protest against my offending foot. It happened in a flurry of activity. It wasn’t like I stood there, took aim, and went for it. It was purely accidental and purely instinct. I apologized profusely. My instructor laughed it off; but I think he was sweating a bit.
With the owner of the dojo, my modus operandi in the past was always to follow him around the floor kicking him in his butt. I’d aim for his stomach, he’d turn, I’d kick his butt. Literally. I guess the good part is that I could leave the dojo and say, "I really kicked butt tonight." The bad part is that in tournament fighting, I’d have zero points. Butts don’t count. Neither do the family jewels.
After the second time that the snap kick came close, my instructor stepped in and said to me, "Any other place but here, that would be a great kick. It’s o.k." I think he knew I was feeling pretty badly about it.
So what do I do to make up for it, to thank him for all his encouragement, teaching, and potential sacrifice? Instead of rolling my block up the outside of his punching arm to back-fist him in the helmet-covered portion of his head, I awkwardly rolled my blocking fist up and over his arm to clock him in the nose. I didn’t hit him hard; but I hit him hard enough to make him blink it off and I think his nose got a little pink from where my glove nipped him. Once again, NOT on purpose. I was trying to practice a technique he taught me about two minutes earlier. Once again, he stopped to tell me that it would be a killer good hit in a real fight. I know that it doesn’t take much to make some people’s noses bleed, though. Just ask my husband.
At a college formal thing, my husband (then boyfriend) and I were having a blast dancing to the 70’s music and were doing that whole spinning while grabbing each others arms thing. He spun me out and my elbow clipped him in the nose causing a gush of blood. I finished my spin, turned around dancing and looking for him and he was no where to be found. A few seconds later, I notice him holding multiple napkins to his bleeding nose. I had no clue I even hit him. When I hit my instructor tonight, I held my breath waiting for the blood. Can you imagine how I would have felt if I had done that? I am so thankful there was no crimson tide.
And so the sparring continued. He started by only throwing punches at me, forcing me to block and retaliate. Then he added kicks. When I got overwhelmed I would just walk away and laugh at myself. Nothing makes you feel more stupid than when you stand there and feel like you’re flailing around missing opportunity after opportunity to land a punch or a kick. It’s almost as bad as walking around with a "Kick Me" sign on your back.
When I was obviously getting discouraged, my instructor stopped to offer a compliment or two. "Why are you stopping?" he’d say. "You’re doing fine; keep going," and I would. He talked to me tonight about how I’ll eventually develop my own style and my own moves, and then it happened. . . I developed a move. I am so happy to report that I have my first signature move. O.k. maybe he sort of suggested it to me and I chose to adopt it and call it my signature move, but still, I have a move, people. This is progress.
My move is to place a kick to the solar plexus (stomach area). Then, instead of retreating or bringing that leg completely back, I kick again. It’s cool, and I feel pretty cool doing it. A few months ago (with a beach ball sized belly), I never would have even been able to balance to achieve the feat of getting off two decent kicks in a row. Tonight, I did and I’m feeling a bit proud of myself for that. Who cares that my hip cracks so loudly in the process that you could hear it next door! I kicked twice, in a row, without putting my foot back on the floor first. I’m practically Jackie Chan!
I’m also proud of myself for another reason. Last year during sparring, I only saw one potential area to attack, the butt solar plexus. Now, I have broadened my horizons and am not afraid to go for the helmet (or an unsuspecting nose apparently). Last year, I was too intimidated to even attempt a back-fist to the forehead. This week I rattled off a bunch of them, so I think that can also be considered good progress.
Another bit of progress just from last week, is that last week I was focusing on my instructors face, trying to read what he was going to do. He told me to keep my eyes focused on the chest area and keep both legs and arms in view. I did that last night. I still wasn’t great at it, but at least I’ve trained my eyes to be looking in the right spot. (Now if only I could get my foot to go to more appropriate places.)
Tonight as I was leaving, I suggested to my husband that he and I get sparring gear so I could practice at home. Can you imagine that? Picture a nice day, our daughters playing in the sand box and my husband and I, geared up, sparring in the yard. Can you imagine how much fun that would be for our neighbors? I think I’d have an easier time sparring with my husband, especially when he’s on my nerves. It might actually be good for our relationship too. You know, take out some aggressions behind the safety of foam padding.
If and when we get this sparring gear though, one thing is for sure. I am getting shin guards. I have a bruise the size of a Ritz cracker on my right shin from where I poorly blocked a kick last week. This week I learned that you should really turn your leg to the side, blocking with the outer muscular part of your leg. Muscles make good blockers; bones do not. I’ve got the shins to prove it. You’d think after all the years of playing field hockey and getting nailed on a regular basis in the shins, they’d be tough enough; but my 30-something body doesn’t bounce back the way it did when I was in high school.
I think my biggest problem with sparring is that I am lacking the confidence I need to perform. Being surrounded by many students who are at least half my age doesn’t exactly help things. I noticed last night that I approach each kick or punch with a bit of skepticism in myself. I end up psyching myself out, fearing I’ll look silly or stupid, so I don’t attack it the way I should. I know that this will only get better with more practice. I’m just hoping my instructor continues to be willing to teach me, what with me threatening his future procreation abilities and all.
Work on the worst
Karate class was great this week. Big I and I were the only ones there so it was a somewhat private lesson. We were able to focus on things that the two of us specifically need to learn. We worked on Big I’s waza; and she did it by herself for the first time. I couldn’t help myself; I broke out in applause. I think my instructor wanted to as well. I feel like I got somewhere too. I now know my new kata well enough to practice it at home. And, my new weapons kata is finally starting to make sense to me. I’m now able to see the patterns in it which should make mastering it a lot easier.
While doing my regular blog reading this week, I read an entry by [Mat] that got me thinking. "A class is an opportunity to learn," he said. So, I took advantage of the private nature of our class to ask for help on my weakest area in karate. . . sparring. I wasn’t able to spar the entire time I was pregnant with Lil C; and I can’t say that I was really bothered by it. On previous sparring nights, I would gear up in my helmet, gloves and kickers and get prepared to be smacked around. I also have a bad habit while sparring of hitting someone and then apologizing for it. Stupid, I know. Let me preface all of this by saying that when it’s the real deal, I know what to do. I have unfortunately been in a situation before where I’ve been forced to defend myself and I did so with flying colors. After it was all said and done, I didn’t apologize. Trust me on that one. But sparring happens in a dojo, and without all the adrenalin so it’s just not the same.
I think one of the reasons why is because I feel like I was sort of thrown into sparring. One night, as a beginning white belt, our instructor had us gear up and spar with her. I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. We didn’t really receive any instructions. I guess that instructor is of the belief that just having you go for it is the best way to learn. I just don’t operate like that, so I feel it’s been my worst area by far. I never directly learned what’s allowed and what’s not. In the past I have usually just stood there pretending like I’m a warrior, most likely followed by being smacked in the head with a foot or a fist, and then I retaliate (poorly) and then say, "I’m sorry." It’s silly and stupid, but that’s what I do. Can you imagine being in a street fight, having someone hit you, and then you hit them back and say, "Oh, sorry about that." It’s dumb and I know I wouldn’t do that in a street fight, but sparring in the dojo is a different experience altogether.
The last time I sparred was right before I became pregnant, and instead of sparring with black belt instructors like usual, my instructor paired me up with a green belt teenager (I was white at the time.) She was much more aggressive than I was used to with my instructor. The two of us kicked each other at the same time, shin to shin, and over a year later. . . I still have a sore spot on my leg. I seriously thought I would pass out from the pain when it first happened. Having such a lousy experience last time, I was absolutely dreading sparring again and avoiding it however I could. But, like I said, [Mat] got me thinking.
I’ve only sparred with my current instructor one time in the past. Once was enough. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be bopped in the head with a fist by my other instructors, my current instructor has a style where he sort of watches you and picks you apart. It usually culminates with a swift unsuspecting kick to the back of the head. It sort of makes you want to spin around and go "Hey! Who did that?" even though he’s standing right there in front of you. He seriously has "go go gadget" legs. No one particularly likes to spar with him because he’s good, really good. So you can imagine that it took some serious guts to request help with sparring from him.
At the end of class, my instructor had my daughter and I gear up. He sent Big I off with a brown belt to practice some basic techniques. She needs the basics, since the last time she sparred she kept doing these dinky little punches and when I asked her why she wasn’t throwing some good ones she demurely said, "I don’t want to hurt anyone." Now, picture my little princess (age 4 at the time) sparring with boys of at least age 6. I think she was giving herself a bit too much credit. So, Big I went off to learn how to punch; and I was going one on one with my head-kicking instructor.
First, he discussed two very important elements of sparring: distance and timing. When sparring before, I kept thinking about how close I needed to be to hit, not how far I needed to be away so as not to get hit. You’d think that line of thinking would come naturally, but apparently it doesn’t, at least not for me. The instruction on distance and timing was extremely helpful.
We then moved on to some basic techniques. My instructor had me get into a fighting stance and then he verbally picked me apart. He showed me how to do the same to an opponent. He also gave me some of his secrets which I will not be revealing. Now, they’re mine (evil laugh). He then told me he was going to throw some punches and watched what I did to block them. He then showed me how to do the techniques better, so that I would open him up more so that I could land multiple kicks and/or punches. He moved on to kicks and taught me how not to get nailed. Honestly, before tonight I would just stand there and take it. It was like I saw a leg coming and was like, "Oh well. This is gonna hurt," and it would. Not anymore.
With just a short 20 minute lesson on sparring, I already feel a lot better. I was able to land one of my first back fists to the head, and even managed to land a kick or two in good locations. I also had one "instinctual" kick that went a bit too close to a very taboo area. (Any men reading this will probably flinch and cover.) I did apologize for that one, and explained that for women, it’s just natural to go there. Luckily I didn’t land that one. Lucky for him because, well duh; and lucky for me because I think that would have been the end of my tutorial.
Now that I’m back in the saddle, so to speak, I feel like I’ll be able to work on my sparring again without being so self conscious. I realize that it’s going to take a lot of work to get where I want to be; but hopefully my instructor will have the patience to help me get there . . . (and possibly a jock strap just in case).
Weirdness
I have become accustomed to about 60 visitors a day to my site. So, you can understand why I seriously almost sent my iced tea flying out my nose when I checked my visitor stats and saw 535 visitors this afternoon since midnight. What the? Amalah.com Amalah.com Amalah.com-referring website? Huh? I mean, I know I tagged Amalah last night, but I never expected that Amalah would be such a good sport. Even if she decided to complete the tagging task, I NEVER in a million years thought that I would get not one, but TWO links from her post back to my site. As it stands this evening, I have had 1050 visitors today. OH. MY. GOD.
I remember when I first discovered Dooce, and I read on her bio page about how "dooced" had become a word with multiple meanings. One of the definitions was to be "dooced," as in she mentions you or includes a link to your site and you experience a HUGE, mind-blowing influx of traffic. Well, I am here to say that I have officially been "amalahed." All you blog traffic sites ain’t got nothin’ over being amalahed. I hope that some of the Amalah traffic will like what they read enough to come back again sometime. And now, back to our regularly scheduled program. . .
Tonight at karate I found out something weird about myself. If you have any experience in the martial arts, you know how to make a knife hand and can skip to the next paragraph. If you don’t, a knife hand is a strike in karate, like a punch. Instead though, your hand remains straight, not balled up in a fist. All fingers stay smack against each other. It slices through the air like a knife, thus the name "knife hand." When you make this knife hand, your thumb is supposed to be slightly bent in, towards your open palm.
Since I became a 5th kyu green belt a few weeks ago, my instructor has been watching me like a hawk it seems. Now seems to be the time to go back and reexamine everything, even the simple stuff. Is my punch aimed at the right spot? Are the knuckles facing the right direction? Are the blocks ending at the right place? etc. etc. etc. Tonight, my instructor came over while we were reviewing the 10 step blocking drill and started staring intently at my knife hands. Something was obviously very wrong.
"Bend your thumb in when you do knife hands," my instructor said. And then a strange thing happened. I bent my thumb the way I was supposed to. . .and my pointer finger came along for the ride. Not all of it, but the portion from the top knuckle to the end of my finger. I tried again. The same thing happened. My instructor stared more intently. "Can you keep your other finger straight?" Apparently, I can not. Everyone else can do it: my classmates, my husband, my daughter, even my Mom because I called her to trick her into showing that she has a pulley thumb too so I could blame genetics once again. . . the woman, her hands work properly. What is up with that?
I can see myself now, having to explain to the panel of black belts at testing a few years from now, why my knife hands just don’t look like everyone else’s and how they should just pass me anyway. I’m unique; who cares that my thumb and forefinger are apparently very in touch with each other? That one can’t move without the other. It’s weird. I wish I had known this last night for the whole weird post.
Speaking of explaining things, would someone please tell me how to explain daylight savings to a 5-year old? Whenever we go anywhere in the evening, we have this conversation:
Big I: Mommy, is it morning (pronounced "more nang") or night?
Me: It’s night.
Big I: Well (said with ‘tude), it looks like morning.
Me: Well, it’s not. It’s evening or night, whatever you want to call it.
Big I: But it looks like morning.
Me: Listen, Big I, there are three parts to the day: morning, afternoon, and evening. Right now is what we call ‘early evening.’ It’s closer to bedtime than it is to breakfast.
Big I: But it’s light outside.
Me: I know, but that’s because of the time change. We change the clocks and then it looks like it’s still day time but it’s really night.
Big I: I don’t get it.
Several minutes pass. . .
Big I: Is it morning or is it night?
Me (defeated): Night.
Big I: Do I have to get in jammies when we get home?
Me: Yes, please.
Big I: But it looks like morning.
And it continues. . . sort of like shampoo instructions, "lather, rinse, repeat" except in this scenario, it’s just repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, until the last strand of sanity is completely washed down the figurative drain. I seriously start to get annoyed and then just start cracking up laughing, (which annoys and confuses her worse).
Occasionally, she gives me this line after this endless loop of a conversation:
Big I: Never mind, I will just ask my daddy when I get home. . . he’s really smart.
This is what she pulled on me the other night when she asked how dinosaurs had babies. When I told her they hatched out of eggs, she cracked up laughing, said, "no, no, no" and then the whole "I’ll ask daddy thing," which really burns me up. I mean, I know I married a valedictorian and all, but it’s not like I’m the missing link or anything. . . but come to think of it. . . has anyone seen a monkey’s hands?
Progress
Today was a good day. I was officially promoted to 5th kyu green belt. It felt good. This particular instructor believes in all the pomp and circumstance so the promotion ceremony made it feel even better. The thing that made it feel the best? We were doing kata tonight; and I did my kata perfectly. My instructor said, "I didn’t see anything wrong with that," and nodded his head approvingly. Affirmation; it’s about time. For the first time ever, tonight I was the high rank in class. It’s something I’m definitely not familiar with, but I could get used to it.
Now I need to work on what I need to know for 4th kyu green belt. . .
- ten step blocking drill moving in Nai Hanchi with rear foot shift and punch (I know this.)
- fore knuckle strike (I’ve got this down too.)
- roundhouse kick (Lord help me.)
- breakfalls-front, back, side & roll fall (this sounds exactly like what it is and let me be the first to admit, I will HURT and badly.)
- chokes (I need to review, but I know the basics.)
- Waza 6 (I started to learn tonight, and it’s not too terribly bad.)
- Kata Ananku (No anan-clue.)
- Weapon-Odo No Tunfa Ichi (I know how to use them; but learning all the intricacies of this kata will not be easy.)
I will hopefully be testing for 4th kyu in six months. I have a lot of work to do, but I am now half way to black belt. Tonight, my instructor took some time out to show me some extra details I need to start adding to my punches (hip rotation, and tension at the end of the punches). It is sort of like learning karate all over again. You learn the basic moves, and then when you get to a certain point, I guess you learn how to do it right.
Big I also had a good day at karate. I wasn’t sure it was possible after all the stress of our day which included: a haircut by someone with pink highlights which was quite traumatic for her, and shoe shopping for sandals (which is always traumatic for Mommy). I was sure that getting ready for karate and the class itself would be a nightmare. It was quite the opposite. Big I got ready without an argument and she did so well in class tonight. I was so proud of her! She seemed to really try and even got "tricked" into doing her waza by herself.
Our instructor said he was going to do waza one with her. He did a few times and then he would get into position, but not continue with the moves. Big I did. I know she knows it, and tonight she finally started to show it. We also had some progress on the communications front. Big I, who up until tonight has only done the sideways head tilt when addressed by anyone other than me, actually nodded "yes" and "no" to our instructor. I feel like we had a breakthrough. I absolutely LOVE days like this.
Maybe I’m starting to get my karate "mojo" back. Of course, I am fully aware that when I’m learning my new kata next week I’ll be promptly catapulted back to reality. But until then. . . I’m going to enjoy my new rank and my new found confidence.
Amnesia
Back when I was in college, I witnessed an argument between what would be my future in-laws. My father-in-law stated that women have built in amnesia; as in, women don’t remember the pain of childbirth after the baby is born. My mother-in-law completely disagreed, and said that she remembered the pain and vividly. I sort of agree with both of them. I have given birth to two babies. While I remember that it hurt like hell (I’m one of those "No drugs thanks; I’d rather scream" women), I can’t put myself back in the moment of that intense pain and re-experience the actual pain again (thank goodness for that!).
I think the amnesia about certain things is a reality. When I was pregnant for the second time, I developed gestational diabetes. I had to stick myself at least four times a day to check blood sugars and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that it 100% sucked. I swore I was done with having kids. Lil C would be my last. The finger sticks only seemed bad until active labor started. I distinctly remember telling my husband, "It’s all coming back to me now." I remembered the pain of having my first daughter. It’s a very physical memory, like your body remembers but your mind forgets.
However, after an amazing delivery where my midwife actually had me reach down, grab my baby under her arms and bring her into this world, I couldn’t be so sure. Those finger stick couldn’t have been that bad, right? The experience of giving birth to Lil C was just so overwhelmingly good that it made all the non-stress tests, endless appointments, and finger sticks seem not so bad that I couldn’t go through it one more time if I had to or wanted to have a third baby.
As I tested for 5th kyu green belt tonight (green belt with two brown stripes), I couldn’t help but wonder at what point the amnesia starts. It seems that with the second pregnancy, my amnesia started much earlier than the actual birth process. During class tonight, my instructor asked me to lead our small class of youngsters in Pinan Nidan (kata 4); or in other words, the kata that I had to do properly in order to be promoted to the green belt that I earned about eight weeks before I gave birth to my daughter. I took my place in front of the dojo and commenced with Pinan Shodan (kata 5), the wrong kata. My instructor stopped me and asked me again to do Pinan Nidan. It took her standing there starting the first few moves of the kata until I remembered which kata I was supposed to be doing. Half way through the kata, I was stuck again. What is up with that? I know knew this kata by heart! Eventually, I got my stuff together and finished the kata; but seriously, what an example for the 5, 6, and 8 year old students in my class. I mean, duh!
I felt like a complete idiot. I pride myself on being on top of things, and that includes my karate. So, at the end of class, it was time for me to test. My instructor called me up to do the waza (small series of moves) that was required. I made it through that without a problem. Then came my kata. Let me just tell you that when you are first learning a new kata, it feels so insanely awkward. Eventually, though, you develop a flow and the moves just come to you. The more you do them, the more they sink in. It’s a good feeling.
This kata, this Pinan Shodan, is a serious pain in my butt. No matter how many times I do it, I can not seem to get the rhythm of it down. I know the moves. I know what it’s supposed to look like, but I just can’t make it look like that. Tonight was no exception. I can stand in my kitchen, living room or basement and get it right, but when it’s crunch time? Not a chance. I won’t pain you with all the details. Let’s just say it involved starting over several times, some awkward kick and cat stance that was so not working for me, and finally my instructor said, "You passed, now just do it right."
I was a high school English teacher. I stood in front of five sections of at least 26 students every single day for almost two years. I taught Shakespeare, grammar, and novels and not once was there ever a jitter. Tonight, in front of three kids (one mine), their parents, and my instructor . . .you would have thought I drank a quart of high octane coffee. I was shaking, jittery, sweating. . . it’s absolutely insane! For the first time, I actually felt like I did not deserve this promotion. It felt lousy.
I’m not the kind of person to make excuses, but if you forced me. . . I would have to say that I believe that my brain cells were forever altered during the course of my second pregnancy and birth. When it comes to karate, I have little or no recollection of what happened in the two months leading up to Lil C’s birth. It’s just like how my memory has been altered about dealing with the nuisance of gestational diabetes.
If I was forced to provide a second excuse, I would have to say that taking karate class with Big I lately has been, well, nothing short of a gigantic challenge. While the other kids are standing there listening to instructors, my Big I is fixing her hair in the mirror, smiling at herself and tossing her hair around. She also takes frequent bathroom breaks while there; and if you know her, you know the kid can go HOURS without a visit to the loo. Sometimes, when it’s all just too much effort, she sprawls out on the floor and yawns until I glare and tell her to "please stand up." Add to that the fact that if anyone other than me speaks to her (including our instructor who she has now known for two years!!!), she instantly tilts her head, ear to her shoulder and looks at me with puppy dog eyes, like "Mommy, I don’t have to talk, right?" I am starting to believe that all my, "Don’t talk to strangers" paranoia has been taken too far. I am beginning to suspect that we may need to have a talk and better define the term "strangers." I am also feeling the need to explain to her that spontaneous naps when out in public or in the presence of other people are just not appropriate. Then again, this may be genetic because my dad is renowned for his ability to sleep in just about any situation.
I am also seeing an unsettling trend with Big I. When partner work is required, like it was tonight, she is all too eager to take her turn whaling the bo in my direction. The benefit for me is that there is truly a real threat in the form of a staff wielding 5-year old who is just plain ticked off that we’re not having McDonald’s for dinner tonight. I have to work to keep my ankles from being taken out, and she gets her aggressions out, I guess. For this promotion I was also required to do a bo kata. When I pre-tested, my instructor warned me that I need to make sure I am always keeping the bo level. I am fully aware that the reason why my bo is not level, is because there is a certain 5-year old who is always standing way too close to me when we do that particular kata. So, instead of keeping a level bo, I am forced to avoid beaning my child in the head with the bo which requires evasive (non-level) maneuvers. Tonight, as we were practicing this kata, my instructor asked me if Big I knew this kata at all. My only reply? "Giddy-up," because to Big I, her bo (which is actually a dowel from Home Depot), is nothing more than a horsey. She has way too active an imagination.
I am also fully aware that I need to spend more time at karate. Before Lil C was born, I went one night without Big I, and it did wonders for my karate. I need to get back to that. (As my husband reads this, his head will drop into his hands and he will quietly sob. "Me, alone with both of the girls? You, away for several classes a week?") Mr. B, I’m sorry; it’s sad but true.
The childbirth-related amnesia may be partially to blame for my lackluster kata tonight. Maybe I need to take some time each day to get back in touch with my karate warrior self. Unfortunately though, the lousy feeling of screwing up tonight won’t soon be forgotten. You just don’t get to pick and choose your amnesia moments.
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