I woke up early and failed to fall back asleep. When I looked at the clock 35 minutes later, I realized the morning class started in 30 minutes.
Could I make it? Did I want to get up? Not really. If I did would I have time to eat? There was that one Saturday class where I woke up too late to eat much and nearly passed out. Ironically, today’s class was the same lesson.
Finally, with 20 minutes until class started, I flung the blankets from me.
It was still fully night when I left, which was disappointing. I wanted some spectacular sunrise, especially after Chatter Master’s enticing propaganda piece for mornings. (I know that was directed at me, CM!) I ate most of a banana on the way and a couple gulps of Muscle Milk.
I recognized three people from other classes. (Where has Timmy/Andre been hiding? Haven’t seen him in months.) One older gentleman with brown hair I strongly suspect is dyed, was milling, so I offered to practice with him. (Look at me go! So much easier when there are only a handful of students.)
This was Older Gentleman’s (OG’s?) fifth class. I couldn’t help but think, “Aww. I remember when it was my fifth class.” Suddenly I was Nate the Great commiserating with THIS guy about how difficult it was when *I* first started.
In fact, I was the most senior student there. My, how the tables have turned. I was actually teaching THIS guy how to do the moves, such as the basic trap and roll. When I did it to him, a guy much bigger than me, he said, “Wow. I didn’t think you’d be able to do that.”
Jumping ahead briefly to the end of class, it was his turn to try to throw me off, but I got my hooks in and hands out for base, switching from side to side as he tried to roll me this way and that, exhausting himself until he gave up. “Wow,” he said again in a tone of, “This stuff really works.” I threw my arms overhead in triumph. (Like I should’ve done with Andre.)
I’ve always thought 5’6″ 130-pound Instructor was the poster child for the effectiveness of Jiu-Jitsu, but move over, buddy!
Today’s class was stuff I’d done before, so I was only sort of paying attention. Instead, I was watching the sky outside the window turn from black to dark blue, to purplish, to orangish (this is reminding me of bruises), and so forth until it was fully day by the time I left. I would’ve rather been viewing the change from a mountain, but this was a close second.
When I was brand new to Jiu-Jitsu, I had to use all my will power to focus on Instructor. Since I’m no longer new, I got cocky and complacent.
Which, of course, came back to bite me.
Instructor had to jump in because I wasn’t helping OG, like I should have when I suddenly realized I didn’t know what to do myself. Then Instructor jumped in with me to reteach me also. This, by the way, was the only class of which I was now on my third rotation–all the more reason I should’ve known. Really hoping Instructor chalked that up to me not normally being an early riser.
So that was my morning class. Not bad, on the whole. I didn’t feel tired, probably thanks to coffee, but we’ll see how I am tomorrow. Hubby and I did finally talk about my class options and decided that me becoming a morning person would make us like ships passing. No bueno. But, hey, if I happen to get up in time, class is fair game.
The evening classes mean he’s stuck getting our four-year-old to bed on his own, reminding the girls to do their chores, the post-dinner clean up, Mom’s not there for family book time, etc. Like I’ve said before, cons with both options.
Then there’s the other matter: Taekwondo is also on Monday nights, ending 15 minutes before Jiu-Jitsu begins, but, of course, Taekwondo always goes long. So I dashed out of TKD with the girls, raced them home, had pre-calculated the velocity I’d need to be traveling, the circumference of the doughnut I’d have to spin in our driveway, and the exact moment I’d yell, “Now!” for them to fling themselves from the car and roll to safety before the spinning tires smashed them, as I peeled back out, leaving a trail of smoke and the stench of burning rubber.
OR, I inconvenienced Hubby yet again by making him meet us at the JJ gym. The girls jumped from one vehicle to the other. I yelled goodbye and thanks and ran inside, shucked my red plastic flip flops, carried them and my JJ gi across the mat, dodging and weaving between the practicing pairs, to the bathroom where I shed the TKD gi and belt and donned the JJ gi and belt, ready in time to line up on the wall for my second workout in a row.
Basically, it was the perfect night. 😉
I did not die from exhaustion, but Instructor nearly slayed me. During his demo with a larger partner, (They’re always larger now that Adrian Brody is gone.) he asked, “Who’s stronger? Him or me?”
Someone promptly responded, “Him!”
Instructor looked down solemnly, hand to his chest. “That hurt me, bro. Too quick. That was too quick.”
Later he explained that for the Americana, (Finally got the Americana class! Yet not a drop of coffee was served!) you, “Grab one arm and feed it to your other hand. Nom. Nom.”
Maybe because it was so quick and inserted in the same tone as everything else, no one laughed. I was ready to keel over. That was golden. As is this picture.
So that’s it! I’m now creeping closer to my second White Stripe. “Duhn. Dun-dun-dun-duhhn-dun.”
What’s your vote? Would you rather see the sunrise over the mountains or the sunset on the sea?