Dunked

 

I know what it's like to be dunked beneath the waves. suddenly. unexpectedly. the fear, the panic, the struggle to hold one's breath and to resist gasping for air while spinning out of control, unable to find the surface.

 

Dark times in life can feel like that. Like being plunged beneath those waves, against your will, perhaps while trying to swim across an ocean, or an ocean-like expanse of uncertainty. Feelings of depression and despair that pull you down, thrashing and kicking...and finally coming up- sputtering, coughing, gasping for air with deflated lungs. The pain of water in the sinuses, the saltwater sting in the eyes. Exhausted from the fight, tempted to go back into the shallow waters. where the waves are small, can keep my head above the water.

But no. still determined, even more so, to seek the deeper things. the beautiful world below the surface, the colorful fish and coral, the mysteries of the depths.

yes, despite the occasional dunk into scary waters, i am still determined...to keep on swimming, keep on swimming...even against the tide.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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confession

today

for the first time

i broke down and bawled in front of my kids.

they hugged me

tried to comfort me

and i felt so ashamed.

i'm supposed to be the strong one.

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the end of me, part 2

i thought i'd reached the end of me a few days ago

but i was wrong

the feelings go deeper

like an underground tunnel

to the center of the earth

sadness,

helplessness,

despair,

deeper, darker

to where any shadows of light are now gone.

blackness.

any muffled sounds,

hints of life above,

now silenced.

deeper.

new, scarier faces of nightmares

unprepared for

unbraced for

can't think to even cry

forgot how to mourn

just blind terror

falling

clumsily

crashing painfully

not stopping

this is how

i die.

 

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end of me (as i know it)

"Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31

I was having one of "those" kind of moods tonight, sort of a cross between a pity-party and just facing some hard, sad realities of my life right now. And given this extended amount of alone time I've had these past 48 hours, it's easy to get into a downward spiral of these emotions, leading me to think that this is the end of me. Nothing else to look forward to, no hope.

But I was reminded of this verse from Isaiah 40. I love how it uses the metaphors of soaring, running, and walking without fainting. I also love to use physical metaphors to explain the spiritual. In this case, I'm seeing that place where I feel like it's the end of me. Like when I'm running an extra long route or when the boxing instructor at my gym keeps giving us more push-ups or sprints or punches until I am literally spent and gasping for air, seriously doubting that I can go on. But then I take a deep breath, and somehow, I make it. alive. I'm trying to put this metaphor into place in my spiritual life right now. When I am feeling so low that I just can't see any purpose in living another second, I will hope in the Lord. He will renew my strength. He will make me soar on wings like eagles, run and not grow weary, walk and not be faint. I want to believe this. I know that when I come to the end of me, I am at that critical point where I realize that there is no longer anything that I can do in my own power to lift myself up. I must die to myself, and let Christ live in me. It's at times like these when that is such a comforting thought. When I'm having a good day, it's easy to have confidence in myself, my own abilities, to pull me through any small rough spots. But when I descend to an especially low place, that is where I feel the end of me....and the beginning of Christ, lifting me up...to just walk...and maybe one day, to run, maybe even soar. There's hope in that.

 

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Before i start the movie... (next update!!)

Watch for it... :-)

ok, first a quick disclaimer on my last post... the title says "first night alone in 11 years". Actually make that 7. Seven years and seven days ago, I was alone for 9 hours, after I drove myself to the hospital at midnight to deliver my second child, while my first child was watched by a good friend who answered my SOS in the middle of the night. So I spent 9 hours alone in a hospital bed awaiting my second child, then once he popped out, the next night I spent alone was, ta-da! tonight! wow. such a weird feeling. miss my babies, yet so excited I don't know what to do with myself!! well, first things first, a trip to the grocery store to stock up on some guilty pleasures, like this Cappucino Chip ice cream! So many things I could do in these 3 days of alone time, my mind is swimming with ideas, so best to do what I love to do: make a to-do list:

My Official Gluttonous Introverted To-Do List when given Extended Amounts of Alone Time: (like 3 days!)

1. take a nap. (*yawn* That reminds me, that ice cream & wine are making me sleepy. gotta finish this later. :-)

ahh.. that was nice. now where was I?

oh by the way, this movie I'm watching now is called Boxing Girls of Kabul. It's a documentary about these girls in Afghanastan who dare to become the first female boxers for their country in the 2012 Olympics. Film starts out with hidden camera footage of what happened to 3 girls who attempted this in 1999: they were captured by the Taliban, brought to the center of a stadium and got their heads blown away by machine guns. amazing. no, not the sight of heads blown off, but by the bravery of these girls, risking their lives to do something so frowned upon, when many girls there are not even allowed to go to school or leave the house. The movie is all in their Afghan language so I have to stay awake and read the subtitles. Good thing I had that nap...

so some more things I"d love to do while on this Introvert's Paradise of 3 Days of Alone Time:

2. Eat what I want. Like veggie-only stir-fry with cilantro if I want, or cereal 3 times a day.

3. Play all my old CD's so loud the house shakes.

4. Let the cats walk across the counters and lick the milk from my cereal bowl.

5. Realize that writing these to-do lists is too exhausting, lie back and enjoy another movie, another round of ice cream.

One last thought about this movie that just ended, Boxing Girls of Kabul: I love watching documentaries about other countries, places unlike the U.S. where we have it so good and take so many things for granted. I often feel like I'm living in the wrong country. I need to be out in the world someplace where I can make a real difference, and am motivated to make a difference by seeing the contrast between what we think we need here (all our materialistic junk) and what really matters. yes, I need to be a missionary of sorts. just not sure how it's going to happen.

While in this thoughtful mood, let me share a thought I had in church today. The topic was Invitation: inviting others to come to church, inviting them to begin a relationship with Jesus. The one person who came to mind as someone I would love to "invite" sometime...was someone I just met at my new job recently. She was training me on the barrista basics of making all the coffee drinks. I could tell right off that she was a tough girl, a graduate from the school of hard knocks, so to speak. Young but tired, pregnant with her 3rd child, but not married. Tatoos liberally sprinkled everywhere, even though the rule at work is no visible tatoos. I didn't catch much of her story, as the steady flow of customers kept us focused on the job at hand, of trying to remember all the recipes, number of espresso shots or pumps of syrup per drink. She spoke softly due to a sore throat from a cold, but it didn't disguise the tough edge from her voice. She assured me, at one point, that if I ever worked her drink station and left it a big mess, that she would "cuss me out". She was not joking. She repeated the threat later on during the morning, too, just for emphasis. I got the hint: don't mess with her or her stuff. My initial thought was that I needed to "invite" her to my boxing gym, help her get some of that anger out. A tough one, but something told me there was a soft heart beneath all of that hard exterior, a heart that had been hurt or betrayed by life. Perhaps she & I had some similarities. It used to be I was always drawn to these troubled teenagers, just like I was when I decided to serve in a ministry for them years ago, but it just seemed like a curiosity, never really understanding why I somehow felt I had something in common with them. I was never a runaway, a dropout, a druggie, a teenage unwed mother or any of those other labels that could easily be placed upon the kids I worked with. My life seemed pretty sheltered compared to all that. But here I was, learning the coffee drinks from this girl many years younger than me, working while both sick and pregnant, who had just lived through "a hell of a week" as she put it, referring briefly to her failed attempt to transfer to a store in a nearby city because the apartment complex there wouldn't accept her, and her oldest child was supposed to start kindergarten like, tomorrow, and she seemed to have no clue what school he was even going to, and she'd moved here from another state, so who knows if she had any other family support. At one point during the morning, a regular customer, a kind older woman, came up to the bar and was talking with her and offering to lend her some baby equipment for the new arrival. The girl seemed genuinely appreciative. And she did seem like a kind person at heart, looking past the harsh edges. Really cared about treating the customers right, filling the drinks up all the way to the top, making sure the cups weren't dripping with foam and people given the benefit of the doubt, the extra whipped cream at no cost. Not the type that would automatically say yes to an inviation to someone's church, no, I think that would take time. But I hope that if her current path in life doesn't take her away from this store, that I would have a chance to get to know her better and somehow share with her that no matter what anyone has ever judged her for in the past, that there IS a place for her in the Body of Christ.

That's m;y thought for today. Now on to my next movie. Think I need some ocean images, I'll choose Blue Crush 2, good surfing movie, I hear...

later!!!!!

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First night alone in 11 years

Wow, this is weird. Just me & the kitty cats. For 3 whole days!!! What in the world am I going to do with myself? Maybe some blogging. Or paint all the walls. Or close the curtains and watch nonstop movies for 3 days. While devouring gallons of ice cream, straight from the carton. And some more writing. But first need to worship, get my heart in the right place.

 

More later....

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Ben franklin says..

Check out @thequote's Tweet: https://twitter.com/thequote/status/370207900746412032

"Either write something worth reading, or do something worth writing."

Kinda busy these days...but not to worry.  Good fodder for blogging later...   :-)

Tuesday haikus

No more words needed.
Phone down. Just need you, jesus.
Hold me. Just hold me.

Monday haikus

Anxious:

wish life were different

changes coming soon i know

just so impatient

Introvert Probs:

people overload

faces, voices, work & home

need to get away

Blogger's Diet:

clamming up a bit

transparency needs boundaries

i have feelings too

 

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Smash

Downhill run, fists clenched
Headlightz shining up at me
Empowered bullet

paint my world

think i'll be the next alanis morissette. a frumpy, quirky, middle-age, late bloomer version. seriously. i've pretty much expressed myself through most the other creative media in my life so far.. studied some art, sang in choirs, published my fiction writing as a kid, performed, choreographed & taught various forms of dance, played violin, french horn, taught myself guitar, dabbled in comedy improv & acting, created & sold plenty of crafty creations during my domesticated years, exposed myself as a blogger online...

now it's time to add music composition & recording to my creative repertoire. just as an amateur, of course. I can't sing worth junk, but I've got lyrics all over my head, have a "feel" for music & could at least mess with Garage Band apps enough to distort my voice and put my lyrics out there in some kind of globby congloberation. (is that a word?)

It's what i do: make stuff. Other people may succeed in careers, creative or otherwise. i'm mostly a "jack of all trades, master of none" kind of person.

Could make a living serving coffee, make a life painting my world.

that's all i need.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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composting satellite

 

I wasn't in Body Combat class yesterday. wasn't in my car. wasn't in the store. or the other store. or the other place. or the other store. sure, my body was in those places, along with a few small dusty fragments of left-brain functioning, just enough for basic survival.

I have no idea where the rest of me was. maybe in Kansas. or Istanbul. or up in a satellite. who knows.

The remaining part of me just drifted around, avoiding the high-fives of the gym teacher, hiding behind eyes without a face. (thanks, billy idol) Like I'm sick with such a bad case of vulnerability hangover, even though nobody in all those places even knows my name.

yet I still feel exposed. like fresh garbage on the top of a compost heap, still awaiting the process of decomposition. Worms, flies, dirt, do your job.

oh, and if you need a good gluts work-out, firm up your sitter, I dare ya to get off your sitter and do this work-out we did yesterday. I DARE YA!!!!!!

here it is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nLCz6UHhNo&feature=youtube_gdata_player

 

 

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Anger management

Pre-fight snack:

42 oz. Very Strong Coffee

just one DD Munchkin

30 min. Loud classic rock

1 week's worth of pent-up angst, ready to Explode into a 150-lb. bag (or a person, if I get lucky!)

I am ready!!!

(to be continued...)

"Good morning, Mr. Dupre, good morning, Dozer..." Don't be misled by the instructor's calm smile and his silent defender Boston terrier pup. This guy's a borderline sadistic insaniac today. Fighters beware.

I hand him my 2 rolled-up hand wraps and ask him to wrap me up again. I think I'm getting it this time, will try it on my own next class: Hook the thumb, then wrap the wrist about twice, then the palm about 5 times, then in and out of the fingers, making a fist each time and opening it again to allow the wrap to slide in nice & tight, make a few X's across the hand, uhh..keep wrapping till I reach the end of it and velcro closed. something like that.

Jump rope warm-up, then grab some dumbells, hold them up to the chin while doing back-and-forth sprints and jogs alternating with other random stuff like push-ups, jab-cross walks, lunges, and his favorite today, the bob-and-weave. One of the dads has his kid daughter along for class, which is cute, but she kinda gets in the way sometimes....

As we put our dumbells away and go fetch our gloves, we notice he's tied a rope about shoulder-height from one end of the room to the other; he warns us not to let it snap our heads off as we glove up. Its purpose- our next exercise, the bob-and-weave. We line up and are given our orders: Jab-cross on the right side of the rope, then bob under it, slug a left hook back over it, and repeat, moving forward, in a single line. Easy enough, I think. But he adds this warning, "don't put your other hand down on the hook or you're ALL doing push-ups!!!"

After reaching the end, instead of a break, we're given orders to do some kind of impossible traveling move back to the end of the line, like jumping jacks or lunges or the bear crawl. I notice the "kid" is right behind me, so I decide to befriend her, ask her how old she is, she's 13, so I tell her I have a daughter I could bring along to class. She responds, with a bit of an air, I notice, that you have to be 13 to attend the adult class. oh, ok. Still, she seems like she might be more fun than most of these serious-minded grown-ups in here, so I start making playful growling noises at her during the bear crawl. I mean, these people are so dead serious, why not lighten up and have fun? I feel like Taylor Swift in the elevator. oh never mind... When we start the next round, Kid informs me that I'm not keeping my other glove up. I guess I don't understand what she's trying to tell me, because I keep doing what I'm doing until I'm caught and called out by Duque, in front of everyone, and for my naughty sin of not keeping my glove up, the whole class has to drop and do a bunch of push-ups!!! Ooops! I call out a meek "sorry" to my sweating comrades on the mat. "Kid" behind me hisses, "I told you so!!!" but before we get into a major cat-fight, Duque jumps in and confronts her on her confronting, "no, just let me do the telling here..." Grrrrrrrr.... My vision's starting to blur here, temper rising... AND THEN...

...she has the NERVE to cut right in front of me in line, as if I'M going too SLOW for her... huh. so that's what I get for letting my guard down. I get friendly with someone and they walk all over me. Story. of. my. life. Am I overreacting here? Reminds me of a question I've been asked to think about these 2 weeks: "How do you react to aggressive people?" or in my case, even strongly assertive people. Do I respond assertively, honest firm but gentle? do I fight back? do I just give in but silently seethe..... hmmm. Good thing I'm too winded from all this bobbing and hooking and jacking and bear-crawling, for my emotions were up in the fight zone there.. Child abuse, you say? naw, just anger management. (JUST KIDDING!! put down the phone, social services has my number if they need it...haha)

We move on to the bags. We do some combos, then just jab-cross on his command, either "2!", we hit twice and stop. "4!!" , we hit 4 times, etc. Another thought comes to me, I Timothy 4:12, "Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity." uh, really, Lord? Can't you see I'm busy slamming out my anger on this swinging bag of dust? yeah, I used to love that verse in my youth, but now I'm just judging that cocky pipsqueak for not showing me the "love". oh well, get over it.

Duque is really enjoying this "power in numbers" thing. Since the class is much bigger this week, there's more peer pressure to not goof up or else all 20 of us are punished for it. Like with this punching exercise we're doing... he keeps raising the number of consecutive hits, and if he catches one of not giving every single hit their whole 100%, he stops and makes us all drop and do some excruciatingly painful exercise of his choice. I can handle the 4 hits in a row, even 10, but then he goes off the sick end and hollers, "20!" and without giving us a breath, adds to it, "50!!!!! 100%!!! GO!! GO!! GO!!" and he starts moving around the room looking for his next victim to pick on. By then I've spun around to the backside of my bag so I can hide and skip a few punches while I catch my breath, peeking out at the mean ol' drill sergeant every other fake hit. Insane.

(by the way, the Kid by this point has been routinely dropping out of the push-ups, punches, etc., and amusing herself by sitting by the fan, or petting the dog, or whatever. not that I'm keeping score or anything..)

By the time I'm ready to quit and go home, he's telling us to go grab a medicine ball. A 9-pounder. he's got to be kidding. We line up again and do sprint-or-jogs while pressing the medicine ball back and forth, then squats, holding it in front of us for an eternity. He starts at one end of the line and tries to knock the ball out of our hands, and when someone loses their grip on the ball, we all drop for push-ups. Thankfully, we're running out of time and I"m on the far end of the line so he never gets to me. whew! Then it's jumping jacks while lifting the stupid thing, and he's barking at us, and telling us, "I do this out of LOVE, I lie awake and think of new ways to strengthen you..!!" (you mean torture, right? and sure, you can show me the love in the cardiac unit at the hospital, Mr. Dupre, because I am going to die of a heart attack!!) At my other gym, my Body Combat instructor frequently tells us to stop anytime and get water or catch a breath, but not this guy!!! what if someone seriously passed out? I don't remember signing a waiver, I hope nobody gets sued, just sayin...) No mercy.

Post-fight snack:

Powerade and dark chocolate-covered raisins.

(I know, I know, I'm not exactly following this gym's mantra of "eat clean, fight mean", like this acrostic thing they posted online recently...)

By the way, for any locals out there, this boxing gym is now the "Platinum Sponsor" of radio station G-105's Bob and the Showgram, so if you're a fan of that station, you'll hear this gym's ad about 68 times a week.

Taking it easy now... anger soothed... body recovering...till I'm ready to face the Reaper again!

adios!

 

 

 

 

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Haiku

Soul needs crying place
Mommy's not supposed to cry
Need to run away

No picnic

Haven't i bitten off
Enough pain for today, Lord?
My soul is consumed
By this grief.
I cannot move forward
Cannot go back.
Cannot imagine a future.
Is this where i end?
Where's my exit?
Make it stop, Lord,
This is too much.

my bubble

an excerpt from a book I'm reading: "In my search for power, I became a control freak, a people pleaser, a perfectionist, a tough girl, and a princess in a tower. Do you see yourself in any of these categories?"

uhh, let's just say, 4 out of 5 ain't bad...

"...realize that they are masks that prevent you from getting to the root of your pain."

yes, we all wear masks sometimes. some of us more than others.

I like to think of it as...living inside my Bubble.

My bubble is what protects me...where I hunker down in survival mode..my defense from judgement. No one can hurt me when I'm inside my bubble. Alongside me in my bubble, keeping me safe, I keep these 3 things: (1) words of God's truth, spoken directly to my individual heart, my own unique personal mess, (2) words of my own real honest truth, and (3) words of truth from trusted ones. Inside my bubble I can bask in these affirming words and the presence of God's spirit, no matter what's going on or being said around me. They can't hurt me when I'm in my bubble.

Sometimes my bubble looks light and flowy, nice & sweet, smells like baby shampoo. that's how i hope i look and smell....to the un-trustables.

But other times, when I'm alone, or on a run, or jab-cross-jabbing in my boxing class, my bubble becomes a hard, super-bouncy, bouncy ball,

hot neon orange, bouncing, banging, wildly off the walls,

ricochet like an angry bullet,

while my own drops of salty anger pelt the pavement like splattered blood

all my hurts, pain, sadness

become food for fury

in this fiery furnace of my hardened heart

watch what you say

careful what you do

or next time....

I'm in something like this...

 

...but remember, it's just a mask.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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What happened?

thought I had it all together

thought I had them all fooled

hiding behind babies, play dates, church faces

I really was a normal person

living a clean, balanced life

then what happened?

something cracked it...

once cracked,

insides started leaking..

slowly at first..

a drop..

then a trickle...

streams to a torrent...

now out of control.

want to reign it all in,

close the dam, suck it all up..

but I can't.

it's my truth.

 

ugly, broken, twisted..

yet still longing to live,

reaching for the sun

craving warmth, freedom

just needs a safe place

to grow, supported

held with gentle hands

and the truthful whispers of the Creator.

to know I'm still loved

to know I can be remade

to know what I've broken

can be restored, made stronger,

reflecting Your glory and power

in the small, beautiful places.

take me there, Jesus

to my Healing Place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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just another thursday

Thursday. The usual. Body Combat report. To get you in the mood, here's a cool video promo of one of their DVD"s, led by some very official-looking Les Mills instructors who have awesome form. It's short, check it out here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMNyX3T1UoA&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Great class today. To put it in the words of our instructor, as he commented on Facebook a few minutes ago: "Well done today, MCM..."(Mad Cary Moms) ....."....Beast Mode was definitely engaged."

Yes, we were beasts. Hot, sweaty, mean beasty moms. even the guys.

I've been rambling and raving about this class for awhile now, so I'll try to keep this short. Just a couple new observations: 1. Mr. Robb really smells. I happen to stand in the front row, so when we travel forward to do a moving fight combination, I have to remind myself to stray to the side a bit, or P-U!!!! Of course I'm sure I really smell, too, but just sayin.. 2. The chick I critiqued a couple weeks ago? She happens to be another Body Combat instructor!!! uh, whooops!! Guess I"ll have to go back and do some editing before I add any tags to these posts, making them google-able to the world, so nobody knows I've been critiquing them..and whoops, I guess I'm also put in my humble place here, no more judgement. :)

Notes on technique: On cross-jabs, aim the 2 first, front knuckles at your opponent's face. I'm aiming here...

Also, on the hook-upper-cut-hook combo, he says this move needs to be "like a little black dress: tight, and close, so you can't get inside!" Right, Robb.

We move into the Muay Thai track, my favorite one, to the song "Speed". (It really feels inappropriate to call that piece of crazy noise a "song", there's no melody or notes, just insanity-unleashed-mayhem and I love it!

Robb says we're moving from the street brawl to the steel cage... "This track starts with your opponent already on his knees, begging for mercy...I think he's come to the wrong person!!"

I just have to share some video of that track, and I couldn't decide which one I liked best, so here's all 3:

First one's in Spanish...where is this, Brazil? This girl instructor rocks:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RF_eZy5bGlk&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Second one, has 2 instructors, love how halfway in they attack each other with the street brawl move, fun!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4K8iZVZVgD0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

And the third, I just love watching the Mad Mom participants in the front row, they are really MAD!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBtlCO-P7IU&feature=youtube_gdata_player

So there you've got an idea of how much fun I just had!!! My only disappointment with these videos was they did not really get off the ground on the elbow strikes. Robb called this move the "flying elbow strikes" and my thought during that part was, "O, how lovely art the air beneath the feet of these Ninja Mad Cary Moms!!!" as I looked in the front wall of mirrors at all these crazed fighting ladies a foot off the ground, striking their imaginary opponents with their sharp elbows. Hiiiiiyah!!

Robb made it even more fun by getting us all worked up and screaming with him at the part of the song that goes, '"SPEED!!! SPEED!!!!SPEED!!! SPEED!!!! "

He also brought out our cheerleader instincts on the last boxing track, where he'd yell, "MAD CARY MOMS!!!" and we'd respond, "FIGHT!! FIGHT!!! FIGHT!!" over and over again.

So much fun.

End of class. Sweaty moms stagger out, cool, ready-to-stretch Body Flow people flow in, as the lights dim and the mood quickly turns to relaxed, peaceful, yoga-ish. Love the relaxing, "let go", flowing movements, as we move through the class of stretching, tightening our core, working on balance, breathing and mindfulness in the serene environment of dimmed lights and upbeat/reflective, relaxing music.

At the end, my favorite, the resting/meditation track, as we're lying on our backs, she tells us to "go to that place of warmth"... I'm there. Suddenly these stupid tears come leaking out of my eyes, first the right eye, then the left, then right, left. What's all this noise? I"m thinking. I am not a crier. Guess it's my right-brain, movement-to-music connection that always gets me all emotional, digs into my subconscious thoughts. I mean I wasn't even consciously thinking about anything specific...or else it's a Spirit thing...

...or both. Either way, we finish class with our usual bow and "namaste". I roll up my mat, and use my sweat towel to wipe up a silly stray tear that fell on it. weird.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The donut man

Now how does this go again???

Ahhhh Mondays, I love Mondays... I know that sounds ironic, but it's true. Weekends are hard. That's just how my life rolls.

This Monday, (today) I am psyched because I am on my way to try out yet another different instructor at my boxing fitness club. I'm downing my starbucks and DD munchkin donuts, singing to the radio, having a good time, not feeling a bit nervous....till I pull up in the parking lot next to those big picture windows. Why am I here? I'm asking myself again. Silent prayers go up as I gather up my gloves and wraps and sullenly walk towards the door. But when I open the door, I am greeted by the cutest, sweetest Boston terrier you ever meet, and my fears are melted into cute puppy-dog goodness. It's the instructor's dog, I learn. What a good dog, very well-behaved, too.

I soon grab hold of the instructor, Mr. "Duque" (pronounced like "Duke") and ask him to help me with my hand wraps. He wraps me up really good, says there's lots of ways to do it, but his is the best. It DOES feel really good. First impressions: shortish Italian (?) guy, big-ape muscles, tattoo of some Arabic writing all over his arm, totes a gallon jug of water. He's from Californina; credentials include training with some UFC guys by the names of Griffin, Diaz, Melendez, Melchor Menor...well those names could be Big Bird and Elmo from Sesame Street, as much as I know about fighting..

Jump-rope warm-up. Only 6 of us in the class, so the talk is light and fun. He spends the whole time talking about donuts. He considers Dunkin Donuts & Krispy Kreme trash, since he's from Cali where there's a mom-and-pop donut shop on every corner & he can't believe we don't have those here in NC. I'm just getting hungry thinking about it, so let's get busy burning off those munchkins I just ate in the car..

Cardio intervals...we all grab a set of small dumbells, which we hold up to our faces while running back & forth to his commands: Jog-sprint-push-ups-jog-sprint-jab/cross-jog,sprint,mountain climbers-sprint,jog-bob & weave-jog-sprint-bear crawl-jog-sprint-squat walk-keep those dumbells by your face-sprint-etc.

Time to glove up up. Today's big treat- since it's such a small class, usually it's like 20 people, we get to partner up and catch each other's punches, almost like real fighting!! He puts me and this other mom together and we learn several sequences which we do back and forth across the mat:

Jab-cross combo, partner rolls shoulder to avoid punch.

Upper cut, cross, hook, cross. (partner catches)

Cross-jab, body-hook, that one was fun, whopping each other's motherly hips, lots of cushion there!!

Overhead swing right, left (partner ducks twice, gotta time this just right...) My partner recently had surgery on her toe and has less range of motion on the ducking, so I have to aim higher, plus she's taller than me, so I end up smacking her right in the face not once but two times!!! Ooooops, sorry-not-sorry, do I get 2 points for that one? hahaha!!!!

 

Advantage of small class: more personal attention and critique. My advice from Mr. Duque, relax more, not so rigid when I swing. This was so fun! Like learning a dance, takes coordination. sort of like ballroom dancing, the partnering/ mirroring kind of thing. Time flies, and it's time for the last section of strength training.

 

They're called "undulating ropes", I think, these big fat double ropes secured on one end to the wall. In squat position, violently shake those big heavy things till they go up & down like big snakes, reminds me of double-dutch jump rope games as a kid. Except these things are monstrous, and we have to keep our butts way down close to the ground. Then move them like rainbows, dont' stop till the time is up. He's barking at us, "Who's ready to quit???" More squats with medicine balls. Ab work with the balls. Done.

I get to know Dozer, that sweet Boston terrier that Duque's been petting this whole time while we're working our butts off. I ask him (Duque, not Dozer) if they have any actual fighting classes, he says not yet. I assure him they'd just be fun to watch. (I lie) Love this class. Wish I could afford the full membership, I'd be back much more often!

Now I deserve some more donuts.

 

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