Going to these Body Combat classes have become more than learning technique and getting in shape. I'm finding all kinds of life lessons being worked in between the lines, subtle but strong.
I walk in right on time and feel like I'm an hour late. The masses have already claimed their spots and are firmly standing their ground. ugh. Too much testosterone in here, i think, and i'm not talking about the lone guy, the short Italian guy wearing grappling gloves identical to Robb the instructor's. The guy who keeps inserting his own snarky comments between tracks, much to the annoyance of the instructor, who finally throws back his own remark, something along the line of "ok, if you know so much, get your own certification"... (only slightly more politely)
These girls are tough, immovable. So I give up my "right" to my usual spot and quietly slip into the back row. Always good to take on a new view of things, i figure.
Today my view from the back has caused my easily-distracted mind to start comparing myself to these other BC class participants, mostly women, and even going so far as to pick them apart by weight classes and ability levels, sifting them out to find which ones would be a suitable match for me, if I were to actually fight one. hmmm, i'm thinking, this chick in front of me is packing some powerful punches with those thunderous shoulders, acts like a bully, and judging by those thunderous thighs, would obviously be in a higher weight class. (hey, sorry, i just call them as i see them!) But still, that lack of lower body mobility might serve as an advantage to me... I see myself nimbly snaking my legs around those lazy wobbly thighs, tripping her down to the floor, using my dancer's agility advantage, stunning her with my quickness and trapping her before delivering the hardest blows I can muster. ahh, one down, who's next?
But first, more training. Knee strikes with extra punch. Pull the opponent's head down to my knee with a mighty CRACK to the skull. We repeat these for a looong time.
Some oldies-but goodies, like the karate track to Pink's "your hand" song. We've done this so many times, i know the words by heart and can't help singing along.
Someone's birthday request of my favorite muay thai track, "Speed". Thrashing street brawler blows, and some hard elbow strikes. LIVID ELBOWS!!! i'm thinking as i imagine slashing a letter "X" across my opponent's face with my elbows. A bloody RED X, that is.
A funny comment from Robb, during a song with muchkin-like voices he compares to the Lollipop Guild guys on the Wizard of Oz and says of that movie, "A perfect chick flick: two women killing each other over a pair of shoes". ha, good one, Robb.
One whole track of esquivas and lunges till our quads and glutes are screaming along to the song, "ayiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!"
A loooooong string of repeated jab-crosses, shoulders burning, until Rob screams out, "If you're going through hell, KEEP GOING!!!!!"
Good advice. I'll remember that.
Robb isn't quite his usual fighting self today; he's recovering from a bad sinus infection, so sometimes he takes a break for a few counts, walks around and critiques our technique instead of giving it his all. (he still has to mop up his puddle of sweat afterwards, of course, but perhaps it was less than the usual.)
I learn from this, as well.. I've learned that, if your teacher or leader is lacking in combative energy or passion, it is very difficult to maintain one's own energy or passion. It's hard to follow a weak-spirited, lukewarm leader. You begin to lose your own heat, your own fighting strength. Choose carefully whom you follow.
And that's my combative wisdom for today.
Time to shower and put on my ninja suit.
Real life requires wisdom from the ring.
