Kicking arse!

I’m back! Back blogging, but more importantly back at Taekwondo.

I missed the grading weeks back, had a week off sulking, then I was working or in pain from a headache or being inconvenienced by marriages. The longer I left it the harder it was to go back. There is my obsessive but transient interest in things, the fact that it is so much easier to say ‘Nah, I can’t be bothered tonight’ than go and sweat and suffer pain, and my worrying. The longer I left it the more nervous I was about returning. I was all uptight thinking they were going to say ‘What are you doing here? You quit’.

Stupid I know, I am paying good money to be put through such trials, but a real concern none the less. I was thinking the night before going ‘This time tomorrow I’ll be going TKD’ and getting stressed out.

Not as worry free as I keep trying to tell myself.

Anywho, I went and all was well. Nobody even commented on my absence. To get us used to moving with the blow Sah bum nim had us shove one of the target pads up the front of our chest protector/ body armour jobby. Then we were to take turns kicking each other with enough force to teach our bodies not to stand still when a blow was coming. You can be told, and indeed understand and agree with, something without implementing it in the heat of the moment. Once you’ve had your solar plexus knocked through the small of your back once or twice your body reacts to what your brain has already accepted. Incoming kick = pain and injury. Therefore, if you can’t dodge it, move with it to absorb the impact.

To be honest I think the training pad made it worse. The chest protector covers the whole of your chest (hence the name) therefore would have spread the blow over the whole of your stomach/ chest. With the ‘P’ shaped pad under it the blow was solidly on your solars. Well, the first guy I had was determined to do his worst. He was letting it rip with all he had. His right leg kicks were really hurting and battering my solars. Then he swapped to his left, which is his gay leg, and I could actually breath. Then it was my turn. He wasn’t loving my right leg kicks, then I swapped over to my left, which due to my right being the stiffer of the two is actually my better leg. Oh yes, he knew suffering!

Still it did what it was supposed to; trained our bodies to move to avoid the pain. If I’d have been with the guy I had when we swapped partners I probably wouldn’t have got it. He was tapping me in a way that didn’t instil pain, fear, or reaction.

Also it made me realise that what I know is enough to seriously ruin someone’s day. As Sah bum nim said, you are trying to kick them in the solar plexus so they double up, then you can finish them off with an easy head kick. I hadn’t realised how powerful the kicks actually were until last night.

That really hurt, my stomach is still sore. To be on the receiving end of a kick launched in earnest would be a deeply unpleasant experience.

One bad thing about going back to class is the lack of dojo discipline. Sah bum nim was trying to teach us stuff and (perhaps because she’s a female of the opposite sex) the lads there were talking over here and trying to correct her. She’s a second dan black belt, some poxy green belt was trying to correct her!She was trying to make some point at the end of the class but due to the interruptions she had to be reminded twice what she was saying and forgot her point by the time she had it half out.

I don’t know if it’s due to the army, or Karate, or basic manners, but when your superior speaks you shut up and listen. That’s either my basic belief or it has been instilled in me so utterly that it’s indistinguishable from my own nature. I was cringing with contact embarrassment every time some gobshite spoke. If I was her I would have everyone stood to silent attention while I instructed. In Karate the times for chatting and banter were before the lesson, a bit in warm up, then after the lesson. If there was talking he would say ‘More Karate, less chatter’. Hmm, notice the pronoun.

So that’s good.

Today I paid off that stupid fine, did the shopping, then sorted out my garden.

Seeing as Wendy (the Mrs, heheheh) wants the top end to be a flower garden, I was left with a relatively small area for veg. I had put that barrel pond in when we moved in, and it was right in the centre of the space at the bottom of garden. Yesterday I had a moment of epiphany; screw the barrel pond! The frogs all died or deserted, I’ve not seen that newt but the once and it’s just a breeding ground for gnats. I removed it today, filled the hole with the household waste from the green bin, went and got a load of horse manure from a local farm to top it off and dug it all over.

Now I have tons of room for veggies! Huzzah!

Planted out my red onion seedlings and have loads of room for cauli’s when they sprout.

Today is a good day.



PS, forgot to mention, I was headache free until this morning. Today I woke up with the pressure in my right temple. It wasn’t killer, and I noticed my nose did feel blocked. I hammered the spray all day and it has gone off, without ever developing into a serious headache. Perhaps with time the spray will work it’s magic and I will stop having headaches all together. Here’s hoping.

PPS, Wendy has been a year and five months without a seizure, if she makes it to two years she can apply for her provisional license and learn how to drive. I keep telling her it would be a good thing to have the license even if she never used it. She could drive herself to church (as I work two out of three Sundays), could nip and see Emma (her sister-in-law) if she was bored while I’m out, could come and pick me and the bike up next time I crash, etc, etc. There is no bad. She, however is not very adventurous. ‘I can’t do it. I’ve left it too late to learn.’ and other such nonsense. So, being the kind and responsible person I am, I took her for an introduction to driving starter today. On an empty car park (on private land, m’lud) I gave her a go. I figured if she could have half a dozen goes, and finally got the hang of setting off without kangarooing or stalling, she would realise she could learn this car driving lark. So I took her through it; gear stick in neutral, clutch depressed, start the engine, release the handbrake, up the revs, bring up the clutch and…, off she went. First time! Slight juddering, but I’ve done worse. She was a nervous wreck after the few minutes she had playing at it, but I was most impressed. It’s not like the mighty Micra has the power to compensate for poor clutch control. Go Wendy!