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Fiona at sparring last night
Dec. 8th, 2009 11:07 amI've gotten into the habit, when I drop Fiona off at karate, of going to the coffee shop next door and hanging out there with a book until her class is over. Last night was sparring. I wasn't certain whether she'd want to go at all: as soon as she got home from school yesterday, she conked out on our bed and slept for three hours (perhaps her calculus test did her in). She picked at her dinner but said, no, she wanted to go.
Sparring is really grueling. I came back about five minutes before the class was over. Sometimes, if Mr Sidner is there, they close sparring class with a 10 minute abs workout, and I often will join the group for that.
There were about twelve or fifteen or so, mostly teenage boys and young men. A couple of middle aged men. Fiona was the only woman. When I looked through the glass, I saw her kneeling on the ground, breathing and sweating hard. Apparently, they'd been taking turns with partners, kicking pads down the length of the room, and then they'd switch and the other would kick back the other way.
The instructor took Fiona's pad and signalled to her partner that he'd hold for him. As they moved away, I saw Fiona's face crumpling, as if she were fighting back tears, although she tried to hide it. As her former partner and the intructor moved back, the instructor noticed and sent her out, and Fiona headed to the bathroom.
I met her in the hallway outside. She was shaking and starting to cry. I got her some toilet paper to blow her nose, and I went to the coffee shop next door to get her a cup for water. I am such an idiot I thought to myself. She didn't eat any dinner. Of course she got hypoglycemic. I shouldn't have let her spar today. I had just assumed she'd had a late afternoon snack, but judging from how she was shaking, it was clear that she had not.
"Let's get you home so that you can get something to eat," I said. She didn't look at me, but in the mirror. I watched, a little awestruck actually, as she pulled herself together. Sweaty and absolutely effing gorgeous, a woman warrior. Her cheekbones, firm chin, the impossibly chiselled proportions of her torso, the whipcord biceps. I know she can kick to the head.
Eowyn, I thought, loving and admiring her deeply, astounded that this beautiful young woman had really been born from me. There's my Eowyn, my own shieldmaiden.
She sucked in a deep breath and tossed the cup into the garbage. Instead of simply going to strip off her gear, she stepped back into the class room to the line forming by the mirrors, to bow out properly with everyone else. The only girl, the smallest one in the class.
"I hate being the only girl," she groused quietly on the way home.
But she still keeps going.
Sparring is really grueling. I came back about five minutes before the class was over. Sometimes, if Mr Sidner is there, they close sparring class with a 10 minute abs workout, and I often will join the group for that.
There were about twelve or fifteen or so, mostly teenage boys and young men. A couple of middle aged men. Fiona was the only woman. When I looked through the glass, I saw her kneeling on the ground, breathing and sweating hard. Apparently, they'd been taking turns with partners, kicking pads down the length of the room, and then they'd switch and the other would kick back the other way.
The instructor took Fiona's pad and signalled to her partner that he'd hold for him. As they moved away, I saw Fiona's face crumpling, as if she were fighting back tears, although she tried to hide it. As her former partner and the intructor moved back, the instructor noticed and sent her out, and Fiona headed to the bathroom.
I met her in the hallway outside. She was shaking and starting to cry. I got her some toilet paper to blow her nose, and I went to the coffee shop next door to get her a cup for water. I am such an idiot I thought to myself. She didn't eat any dinner. Of course she got hypoglycemic. I shouldn't have let her spar today. I had just assumed she'd had a late afternoon snack, but judging from how she was shaking, it was clear that she had not.
"Let's get you home so that you can get something to eat," I said. She didn't look at me, but in the mirror. I watched, a little awestruck actually, as she pulled herself together. Sweaty and absolutely effing gorgeous, a woman warrior. Her cheekbones, firm chin, the impossibly chiselled proportions of her torso, the whipcord biceps. I know she can kick to the head.
Eowyn, I thought, loving and admiring her deeply, astounded that this beautiful young woman had really been born from me. There's my Eowyn, my own shieldmaiden.
She sucked in a deep breath and tossed the cup into the garbage. Instead of simply going to strip off her gear, she stepped back into the class room to the line forming by the mirrors, to bow out properly with everyone else. The only girl, the smallest one in the class.
"I hate being the only girl," she groused quietly on the way home.
But she still keeps going.
