Butterfly Fray

Hurts So Good

One of the advantages to Chief taking a personal interest in each of his students is that he spends extra time with each of us whenever possible. A quiet afternoon or a lag between classes always translates into one more sparring drill, or a few minutes of posture work, or a discussion about theory and technique.

The gym was almost empty this afternoon because of the holiday, so my 90-minute session with Chief lasted for 135. We spent a lot of time working with the thai pads - today was the first day that I was allowed to add kicks into the pad work (I'd only ever kicked the heavy bag before), which means that it was also the first day that he kicked me. Ow. I have a lovely bruise on the outside of my left thigh, and I'm a lot quicker to get my legs up to guard now than I was this morning.

Since I need a little time to recover from the two minute rounds with Chief, they were interspersed with the following:

• 5 sets of crunches, 100 of each of 5 types of crunches per set. Yes people, I did 2500 crunches. And that's not including the ones he made me do when I missed a strike, or forgot a combination.
• 50 "girl" push-ups. Hey, at least I didn't have to do any of these.
• Approximately 150 squats. I lost count when I had to do a drill that involved 4 squats, 4 guards / kicks with my right leg, 4 more squats, and then 4 guards / kicks with my left leg. I was too busy trying not to fall over to count.
• 4 1-minute rounds of tricep isolation with the cable weight set to 30lbs.
• 100-ish bridge exercises.
• 1 round of this evil exercise that involves lying on your back at the base of a heavy bag and reaching your legs up to touch the right side, left side, and center of the bag. I have to admit, there was a moment at the end when I thought I was going to puke.

I was absolutely wrecked by the end of the session. My arms and hands were so tired that I could barely grip the pen to sign his book. Since I couldn't see the clock during most of my drills, I didn't know the time and was disappointed in myself for being so tired after only 90 minutes. I felt much better when I realized that I'd been going for 45 extra minutes! Apparently Chief wanted to test the limits of my stamina because he's never seen someone "as big as [I am] with such incredible endurance." I reminded him that the only advantage of being one hundred pounds overweight is that just walking down the hall is resistance training - I have to cart these hundred extra pounds with me wherever I go. Plus, there's that whole marathon thing that I did last year.

Tonight, though, I feel every single one of those extra pounds because holy crap am I sore. It was sort of a blessing when my dinner plans got canceled at the last minute because I'm not entirely sure that I would have been able to walk after sitting at a table for more than an hour. 

Still, I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the world.

I love that I am using all of my muscles and working my body to its limits; I feel connected both to myself and to some strength beyond myself - the strength that keeps me striking when my arms and legs are shaking with exhaustion. I love the satisfying THOCK sound that the pads make when I strike well, and the sound of Chief yelling when I've landed something perfectly. I love the people at the gym, and the camaraderie of which I already feel a part. I love the challenge, and the constant drive to be better, faster, stronger, to find those limits and kick my way right through them.

I love this sport, and that's what keeps me going back for more.

Blind

A lot of people seem to be under the impression that since I'm so enthusiastic about Muay Thai, it must come easily to me.

Ahahahahahahahahahaha! Ahem.

Um, no.

Trust me people, this is the most mentally and physically challenging thing that I have ever done.

Yesterday it was all I could do not to cry as I watched myself shadowboxing in the mirror. Not because I was physically exhausted, but because I was fighting so hard against my own brain. I was supposed to be checking my form and making adjustments, but I couldn't see past my shaking legs and the sweat-soaked t-shirt clinging to my torso. Normally I'd take those things as signs of hard work, but yesterday they seemed to scream "WEAK! PATHETIC! UNWORTHY!" with every strike. I looked at the mat for as long as I could before Chief reminded me again that the answers aren't there.

As much as I hate to admit it, re-injuring my knee did at least as much damage to my psyche as it did to my lateral ligaments. It was a horrible, brutal reminder that my body is nowhere near as strong as I imagine it to be. I'm 30, I'm roughly 100lbs overweight, and although I've been active I haven't been athletic in 15 years or so. What the hell am I doing, training to compete in 18 months? What was I thinking, joining a private kickboxing gym?

You can probably guess how things spiraled downward after that.

I've dutifully continued to show up and work my ass off because I'm stubborn as all hell and because I refuse to continue to be my own worst enemy, but it's been difficult. Frustrating, and difficult.

My super-awesome chiropractor / physical therapist cleared me to jump and kick again as of Saturday, but I kept to my (comparatively) safe modifications.

Because I let my fear win.

I was afraid of hurting myself again, afraid that I wouldn't be able to execute the strikes, afraid of looking foolish (my roundhouses look a lot more like this than like this at the moment), afraid of proving that I can't do this, afraid of proving that I can. And the worst part is that I didn't even REALIZE it until  today when I found myself half-assing my way through the "Chopping Down The Tree" exercise. And that made me really angry. I am so goddamned tired of this cyclical battle with myself.

I wish I could say that I suddenly started roundhousing like a pro, or that I landed a series of flawless knee strikes that made my bag partner gasp in admiration, but what actually happened is a lot less spectacular. I hissed and panted my way through the rest of the class with a lot of determination and not quite as much balance. My legs burned, my arms shook, and sweat dripped off every part of my body. I can't say that what happened was pretty, but it was at least resolute.

I sprawled on the mat for awhile after class, not really looking at much of anything, trying to take some measure of pride in the fact that I'd at least given it my all. I wasn't having much success, honestly, when Chief came over to talk to me.

Chief: You're moving better.
Me: What?
Chief: I said - you're moving better. Especially today. You've been working hard and it's starting to pay off. You're getting more comfortable, your body is adapting, and the movements are becoming more natural.
Me: Oh, thanks.
Chief: I know you can't see it, but I can. Good job Amanda. Keep it up.

So apparently I am making progress, but I've been so wrapped up in my own drama that I've been completely blind to it. All that frustration, and anger, and mental anguish... what a waste of fucking time and energy.

Just one more reminder to look up, look out.

Muy Tired

This evening, after getting our asses kicked by the Boxing instructor:

Me: I am going home to to take a shower, and go to bed.
She: I am going home to eat dinner; I'm SO hungry.
Me: Oh my god, last night I was starving after class but I had no food at home so I had to stop at Ralph's. I was wandering around the market in such a daze, I just wanted someone to hand me something so I could buy it and get home.
She: Oh yeah, I know those nights. Those are the nights when you don't even have the energy to microwave something - you just look at the label and think "I have to stir and recover? Now way, that's way too much work."