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From Twitter 04-19-2010
Apr. 20th, 2010 03:05 amTweets copied by twittinesis.com
Apr. 20th, 2010
Getting back to sparring
Apr. 20th, 2010 02:47 pmLast night I went back to sparring class for the first time in months. I was quite nervous about it, and rather glum when it was over. I'll try to view the glass as half full (at least I tried!) rather than half empty (I sucked). But it's difficult.
Fiona has the same class. Unlike me, she LOVES sparring, although she does find it vexing that quite frequently she's the onlygirl woman to show up (not to mention the smallest person in the room, which means she's quite handicapped in terms of reach). So she was pleased to see me back.
I suited up. This sounds simpler than it was. Our equipment includes elbow guards, shin guards, hand and foot pads, chest guard, mouth protection and helmet. For one thing, this was the first time I suited up while wearing the knee brace; I hadn't realized, but of course it was going to be in the way of the shin guard. Duh. I thought hard about it, but I was really leery about trying to fight without the knee brace (well, to fight at all, actually) so I strapped the shin guard around it as best I could.
Fiona promised I could start with her. I knew she wouldn't whale on me. We started with a light three minute bout, working on double kicks, no hands. Fiona's balance when kicking is absolutely superb. She cocks her knee up and pops the kick out, pop pop pop at her opponent's head level as she slides, without setting down at all between kicks. Deadly like a scorpion. Amazing. It's her best defense because she's so short compared to practically everyone else in the room--she can't allow them to reach out to score with a punch, so she has to keep her knee up there all the time. She circled me slowly, letting me get the hang of starting to fight again, giving me openings, letting me get my confidence up. It's interesting to see her in the role of a teacher. Then we lined up in double lines and everyone stepped to the right and I was paired with Mikey W. (He's a brown belt now so I should address him by his last name, but I've been thinking of him as 'Mikey' forever, and his last name is long and I always forget it.) Mikey has some physical limitations--I think he has Asperger's? or he's mildly autistic. He's worked very hard, but he's never going to be one of the stars of the school. Our instructor for the hour stopped by to watch our bout and gave him quick advice on a flaw I'd already spotted myself: he was fighting from a face-on position rather than positioning himself so that his side was facing me. He's rather broad anyway, so he was presenting an even larger target. He's also rather slow and really signals his moves in advance, so it was pretty easy to hold my own in the bout.
Line up, step to the right--and my stomach plummeted. I was facing Mohammed C., who three people had mentioned to me as someone who has real trouble with control: he hits much too hard. He's a rather new red belt. He's bigger than me, too. I was extremely nervous, starting to fight with him, but I quickly realized it wouldn't be too bad. All the three fighters who mentioned him also noted that our head instructor actually made him leave class and go home one day as a warning since he was showing so little control. Maybe the message has finally sunk in, or maybe he realized that I've been out for awhile, but he really didn't press too hard. I did have one bad moment when I threw a kick that seemed to throw my hip out, leaving me staggering against the bar. But after a moment's anxiety, I was able to get back to the fight. My three minutes went quickly without me getting punched too hard, although I was starting to breathe hard. Line up, step to the right, and to my relief, I ended facing Mr. Stretton, a black belt.
I've mentioned Mr. Stretton before--he's about my age, and has had years as a boxer. He's one of the biggest fighters in our entire school, but he has excellent control, and is a very generous and patient teacher, very open with tips. I like him a lot. He has also coped with bad injuries over the years and so is very sympathetic on that score. He knew that I was just getting back and was very nervous, and so he reassured me that he wouldn't be throwing anything very hard. The instructor directed us to throw hand techniques followed by kicking techniques. Mr. Stretton was free with the encouragment, and I did manage to land several good kicks. He pointed out that I managed them well above waist level, which made me feel a little better.
We took a water break at that point. I was breathing hard by this point, and I decided I'd stop there for the night. The class was about halfway through, but I didn't want to overdo it my first time back. So I pulled my bag to the back and started taking off my gear, feeling somewhat guilty. The instructor started a double team tag in/tag out match which became quite fast and furious. It was terrific fun to watch, and technically challenging since theoretically you might be fighting two opponents rather than one, but I was very glad I wasn't in there myself. We have lots of REALLY good, fast fighters in our school (mostly teenage boys swimming in testosterone). That's what you get when you have instructors who are national champions. It was interesting to see Fiona trying to hold her own in the shark pool there. She has to be very smart to score--which she is--and she uses her kicking skill to excellent advantage, but quite often someone manages to pop her on the top of her helmet simply because they have six inches on her.
I felt rather gloomy as I drove home, although Fiona did her best to be reassuring. I really do feel hopelessly outclassed by 85% of the other fighters there. And not everyone is going to be nice and back off to humor the fifty-year old lady. It's one thing if it's an instructor who's teaching you, but humiliating if it's a sixteen year old boy who's humoring you. They certainly don't bother to do that with each other! I have to be able to hold my own in the ring. How the heck am I going to be able to stand my ground well enough to earn my black belt? Yes, I'm taking the first step by actually suiting up and getting back into the ring. But they don't give you black belts for merely suiting up, and oh, I do not like sparring. I feel like such a fraud.
Fiona has the same class. Unlike me, she LOVES sparring, although she does find it vexing that quite frequently she's the only
I suited up. This sounds simpler than it was. Our equipment includes elbow guards, shin guards, hand and foot pads, chest guard, mouth protection and helmet. For one thing, this was the first time I suited up while wearing the knee brace; I hadn't realized, but of course it was going to be in the way of the shin guard. Duh. I thought hard about it, but I was really leery about trying to fight without the knee brace (well, to fight at all, actually) so I strapped the shin guard around it as best I could.
Fiona promised I could start with her. I knew she wouldn't whale on me. We started with a light three minute bout, working on double kicks, no hands. Fiona's balance when kicking is absolutely superb. She cocks her knee up and pops the kick out, pop pop pop at her opponent's head level as she slides, without setting down at all between kicks. Deadly like a scorpion. Amazing. It's her best defense because she's so short compared to practically everyone else in the room--she can't allow them to reach out to score with a punch, so she has to keep her knee up there all the time. She circled me slowly, letting me get the hang of starting to fight again, giving me openings, letting me get my confidence up. It's interesting to see her in the role of a teacher. Then we lined up in double lines and everyone stepped to the right and I was paired with Mikey W. (He's a brown belt now so I should address him by his last name, but I've been thinking of him as 'Mikey' forever, and his last name is long and I always forget it.) Mikey has some physical limitations--I think he has Asperger's? or he's mildly autistic. He's worked very hard, but he's never going to be one of the stars of the school. Our instructor for the hour stopped by to watch our bout and gave him quick advice on a flaw I'd already spotted myself: he was fighting from a face-on position rather than positioning himself so that his side was facing me. He's rather broad anyway, so he was presenting an even larger target. He's also rather slow and really signals his moves in advance, so it was pretty easy to hold my own in the bout.
Line up, step to the right--and my stomach plummeted. I was facing Mohammed C., who three people had mentioned to me as someone who has real trouble with control: he hits much too hard. He's a rather new red belt. He's bigger than me, too. I was extremely nervous, starting to fight with him, but I quickly realized it wouldn't be too bad. All the three fighters who mentioned him also noted that our head instructor actually made him leave class and go home one day as a warning since he was showing so little control. Maybe the message has finally sunk in, or maybe he realized that I've been out for awhile, but he really didn't press too hard. I did have one bad moment when I threw a kick that seemed to throw my hip out, leaving me staggering against the bar. But after a moment's anxiety, I was able to get back to the fight. My three minutes went quickly without me getting punched too hard, although I was starting to breathe hard. Line up, step to the right, and to my relief, I ended facing Mr. Stretton, a black belt.
I've mentioned Mr. Stretton before--he's about my age, and has had years as a boxer. He's one of the biggest fighters in our entire school, but he has excellent control, and is a very generous and patient teacher, very open with tips. I like him a lot. He has also coped with bad injuries over the years and so is very sympathetic on that score. He knew that I was just getting back and was very nervous, and so he reassured me that he wouldn't be throwing anything very hard. The instructor directed us to throw hand techniques followed by kicking techniques. Mr. Stretton was free with the encouragment, and I did manage to land several good kicks. He pointed out that I managed them well above waist level, which made me feel a little better.
We took a water break at that point. I was breathing hard by this point, and I decided I'd stop there for the night. The class was about halfway through, but I didn't want to overdo it my first time back. So I pulled my bag to the back and started taking off my gear, feeling somewhat guilty. The instructor started a double team tag in/tag out match which became quite fast and furious. It was terrific fun to watch, and technically challenging since theoretically you might be fighting two opponents rather than one, but I was very glad I wasn't in there myself. We have lots of REALLY good, fast fighters in our school (mostly teenage boys swimming in testosterone). That's what you get when you have instructors who are national champions. It was interesting to see Fiona trying to hold her own in the shark pool there. She has to be very smart to score--which she is--and she uses her kicking skill to excellent advantage, but quite often someone manages to pop her on the top of her helmet simply because they have six inches on her.
I felt rather gloomy as I drove home, although Fiona did her best to be reassuring. I really do feel hopelessly outclassed by 85% of the other fighters there. And not everyone is going to be nice and back off to humor the fifty-year old lady. It's one thing if it's an instructor who's teaching you, but humiliating if it's a sixteen year old boy who's humoring you. They certainly don't bother to do that with each other! I have to be able to hold my own in the ring. How the heck am I going to be able to stand my ground well enough to earn my black belt? Yes, I'm taking the first step by actually suiting up and getting back into the ring. But they don't give you black belts for merely suiting up, and oh, I do not like sparring. I feel like such a fraud.