May 27, 2009
A Serious Case of the Sillies
Last night at the dojo, it was just one of those nights. Although I've been fairly serious about my training for the past few weeks, last night I was tired and everything was cracking me up. I wasn't the only one with the problem.
When the advanced class started, our teacher asked us what we wanted to do. I made the unfortunate mistake of saying I was "up for anything minus break falls and roll falls." I was thinking open hand or kobudo. I wasn't thinking 30 minutes of kicking.
We have this young green belt who loves competition and loves kicking. She also likes doing kata with her eyes closed but that's another story. In attendance was the young green belt, our instructor, two 20-something black belts, me and a 40-something 1st kyu.
With the black belts on one side of the floor and me and my brown belt buddy on the other side, we started doing some kicking drills. We started with simple snap kicks and thrust kicks. Then it was crescent and roundhouse. We did some knees and heel-butt which are more like hell-butt kicks when I have to use my left leg. There seemed to be a disproportionate amount of intensity from the black belt side of the dojo, while the other 1st kyu and I debated about whether or not it would be acceptable for us to hold onto the wall in the back of the training floor so as not to fall over.
I used to love kicking. It was one of my favorite things to do. Post knee-injury? Not so much. I'd rather watch four hours straight of Star Wars than do kicking drills; and if you know me and my deep and established dislike of Star Wars, then you know how much I want to avoid kicking.
Every time we thought we had exhausted all the types of possible kicks, our teacher, the green belt or one of the black belts would come up with another type of kick, which is why one of those black belts will forever retain the nickname "Ax Kick Eric" from now on.
After 20 minutes of straight kicking, when your leg protests full extension, one is not too happy to hear the words "ax kick." I thank you "Ax Kick Eric" for those ax kicks last night and so do my ailing leg muscles; and I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible.
I announced to my 1st kyu friend that I would be pretending I was fighting a midget for this round of kicks; and then we made helpless faces at each other in the mirror until we were finished.
Finally, after 4000 types of kicks, the young green belt says she wants to have a kicking contest. I said we should forgo the contest and just name her the grand champion. Although I think she was sort of satisfied with that, I really think she wanted the pride of knowing she had beaten up on the ailing brown belts a bit more than having us just hand over a title.
I do have to say I learned an important lesson last night though. When your teacher looks directly at you and asks what you want to do. . . you better be specific, VERY specific.
May 26, 2009
The Dojo Family
I am frequently asked how a beginner should go about choosing a dojo. I've written about it in the past and you can find those tips here. But while you can certainly research the lineage of a style, hang around for a couple classes to observe and ask people who go there and who've gone there in the past, there's really no way of knowing if the people at your dojo are going to be merely people you see a couple times a week while you train, or if they'll become more than that-part of your dojo "family."
I consider myself extremely fortunate to train at an awesome dojo with a great dojo family. While the green belts and above obviously spend more time together, there seems to be no separation between ranks when it comes to helpful attitudes and friendliness.
A couple weeks ago, I organized a hibachi dinner followed by dessert back at my house afterward and the guest list kept growing. The amazing thing about everyone is that we have a drastic age range but it doesn't seem to matter. We have the single 20-something guys, the married 30 and 40 year old crew, and our instructors whose ages will remain quiet because I'd like them to still talk to me.
I've heard of dojos where the instructors won't associate with the students outside of the dojo, but in our dojo, that's simply not the case. Our hibachi dinner a few weeks ago ranged from 1st kyu brown belt up to 9th degree black belt; and we had a blast. I hope our next event (we're thinking tiki bar) will be even more well attended than last time. (I seem to have become the social coordinator so I better get on that before I lose my role.)
Now that I am back and my knee is feeling strong, I am even more grateful for my friends at karate. I truly do believe that they helped get me through my injury. I looked at one of our green belts who was going through chemo and still coming to the dojo each week; and I thought, "Wow, if he can come back, I can come back too." He's now cancer free, on the verge of becoming a brown belt, and serves as a training inspiration to us all.
When I was having a particularly rough time after my surgery and feeling like I would never feel better, I had a visit from a dojo friend that gave me new determination and motivation to get better. Simply being around these people makes you want to be better and work harder.
During my time away, I kept in touch by being in the dojo from time to time and via email. Before I came back and during my first few weeks, there were times when I felt like leaving karate was going to be my only option. It felt unnatural and like I was taking an unnecessary risk with my newly reconstructed ACL. But one of the main things that kept me going is that I didn't want to lose that connection with the people who've gone beyond being my training mates-they're my friends.
Last night, I worked with four different people on various bunkai I've been working on. Each one of them helped and contributed in a different way and I've been more than happy to help them right back. We seem to have an incredible group dynamic where everyone just wants everyone else to succeed and get better at what we're doing. The competitive aspects that you sometimes hear about between individuals don't seem to exist in our dojo.
So what's the point of this post, other than to put something up because I've had some serious writer's block lately? I guess it's to say "thank you" to all my training friends at the dojo. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for your help.
May 21, 2009
Raising Opposites
On karate nights, Mr. BBM will often paint with the girls. They use water colors and they really look forward to painting with Daddy. I got home after the girls were in bed and Mr. BBM showed me what they had created tonight.
Mr. BBM: (Shows me Big I's painting) "This is a girl and over here it says something about a garden."
Me: "It looks like 'In the Garden, Oh So Beautiful.' Nice!"
Mr. BBM: "Yeah something like that."
Mr. BBM: "Here is Lil C's."
Me: "Hmm, what's that?"
Mr. BBM: "Um, she said that is a dead girl."
Me: "Great."
This is why you should really be careful when you name your children. Big I's name means "consecrated to God." Lil C's? "Prophetess of Doom."
Yep, I'd say it fits.
May 19, 2009
How To Tell If You’ve Overdone It At the Gym-Legs Edition
1. When you sink into cat stance at karate, you nearly have an unintentional seat on the floor.
2. When you try to get up from a kneeling position and find yourself going nowhere unless you push off with your hands.
3. You hold it as long as possible because the sitting and standing to go to the bathroom is damn near impossible.
4. For only the second time in your life, you truly wish you had been born a guy and could stand to pee (Totally agree with you on this one Sarah!).
5. You need to hold onto both railings with a death grip to even consider making it down the stairs without sitting and scoothing down like little kids.
6. When you have to literally pick each leg up to get in and out of the car. (This one is courtesy of Patrick Parker and I couldn't agree more.)
7. When you realize you forgot to brush your hair and the brush is upstairs, and you decide you can simply live without brushing your hair for one day (OR when the stairs seem like you're climbing Mt. Everest-courtesy of Angelica.)
8. When you realize you're walking like one of those big barrel-chested guys at the gym and it looks as though someone has shoved a bo up your butt as a new spine.
9. When you walk in the dojo thinking you're walking as close to normal as possible considering the world of pain you're experiencing and everyone asks you "What's wrong?"
10. You realize that the whimpering and whining you thought was your kids, is actually you, unconsciously whimpering with pain every time you expect your legs to carry you anywhere.
Check out The BBM Review for a giveaway just in time for Memorial Day weekend!
May 18, 2009
Why My Kitchen Should Have a Hose and a Drain in the Floor
This post was originally called "Just Don't Expect Me To Do Stairs." That was before I had to do so much more than stairs.
I worked out with my trainer last night for the first time in many weeks. I had told him a couple weeks ago that I was getting bored with my leg routine and wanted some new challenges. I felt like my knee was up for it. At the time, he talked to me about a workout he had in mind for me, but I needed to be "ready for it." I had no idea about all the new kinds of torture my trainer would be able to dream up for me.
I had no idea how a barfing child could complicate matters even further.
First, my trainer grabbed a step and a 10 lb. medicine ball. I had to start with my right foot on the step while holding the ball off to my left hip. Then I had to step up, pull my left knee up and at the same time bring the medicine ball across my body and above my head. My trainer had been telling me about the importance of compound movements like that and how it would help me with both strength and endurance.
The next set was straight squats with the heels of my feet on these squishy ball things to help with form. I had to hold a 15 lb. kettle ball out straight in front of me while squatting. The second set of these I had to hold for a count of three before coming back up. The last set? I had to hold for a count of five and he always makes me hold the last one of each set for a count of 10.
Killer.
Then it was wall sits for a minute at a time before tackling lunges. These weren't your ordinary lunges though. With a five lb weight in each hand, I had to lunge, go all the way down while lifting my arms straight out to shoulder height. He had me lunging my way across the gym and I was wondering how something that looks so simple can be so difficult. During the last set, I lunged down and didn't stop until my knee had touched the floor. My muscles simply quit on me. It was like they had a mind of their own and were screaming for mercy. I got back up though and finished the set strong. It helps when your trainer stands there and yells at you, "Get up!" on the last one. You kind of don't want to say no to the guy who can have a 30 minute conversation with you while doing non-stop pull-ups.
But the lunges weren't over. The next type of lunge was stationary while holding a 10 lb. medicine ball out in front of me and twisting my upper body in the direction of my front knee. I sucked it up through three sets although I really wanted to just lay down and whimper by this point.
We weren't done though.
Next came calf raises, leg extensions and leg curls. We did high reps for three sets, and then it was on to abs. When I was finished, an hour after the torture had begun, my trainer told me he was impressed. He said he doesn't know that many girls who can get through all of that. We checked my body fat percentage: 18.3% and BMI 19.9 and decided I was definitely on the right track.
I came home last night walking with a stagger, and I knew this morning was going to be rough. I had no idea.
I managed to get Big I up for school and out the door, but it was only thanks to a railing on either side of my stairwell that I was able to make it down the stairs without having to sit, scoot, boom, the way little kids do. I had plans to clean the house today but scrubbing the kitchen floor was not on my list of things to do. My mop broke, and since I can't kneel on my knees, mopping the floor is now a half hour of squatting and pain, and that's without having done the most intense leg workout ever the day before.
At 11:30, I got a call from Big I's school. She was in the nurse's office with a terrible stomach ache, nausea and a sore throat. I had to come get her immediately. You see, swine flu is in the next school district over from us. Four confirmed cases already, and an additional two pending but probable.
I had her home and resting comfortably within 15 minutes, with a warning from the school nurse that if she spiked a high fever, I had to take her to the doctor immediately. I was busy catching up on the phone with a friend who had called while Big I napped on the sofa. All of a sudden, there was this terrible noise, like a burp from the deep dark depths of hell and Big I came tearing out into the kitchen moaning. I started screaming for her to run as fast as she could when she stopped on a dime and let loose.
Barf on my kitchen island. Barf on my stools. Barf on my wall. Barf all over my tile floor. Barf under the table where Lil C was sitting peacefully eating her lunch.
"Oh my God! Don't move!" I screamed and hung up the phone. I should have known that barfing episodes like this don't come with just one round. I didn't want her to have to walk through the vomit to get to the bathroom, but when she started hurling again, I just told her to jump over it and get in the bathroom.
It was as I stood surveying the damage to my wall and floor (a good 10 ft trail of barf to the bathroom) that I strongly wished I would have remained working full time and let Mr. BBM stay at home with the girls full time. They usually barf at night and I am on kid duty while Mr. BBM cleans up the stuff. I can't stand cleaning up the stuff.
Meanwhile, Lil C continued to eat her lunch. How on Earth she managed that, I will never know. My stomach still threatens to reject my lunch if I even think about the puddle that was my kitchen floor two hours ago. I'll probably forgo eating the rest of the week thanks to that image and subsequent clean up.
As I cleaned up the puddles, I started dry heaving (excellent for already abused ab muscles); and my legs screamed out in pain from having to squat down.
It's now after 2:00. Big I says she's feeling a little better and is passed out on the sofa. I just finished bleaching the bathroom, and hand scrubbing the kitchen floor and have surrounded her with plastic bag lined buckets.
It took me over two hours to clean up two rooms and although I'm feeling horrible that she's so sick, I have to say that she looks rather peaceful right now, compared to the horrible burning feeling in my thighs and calves that is anything but peaceful.
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