��� 2004-07-10, 11:25 p.m.
Bruise Therapy
Went to the first Sparring class today. Really got my ass kicked. I'm contemplating the bruises on my forearm from blocking. I suppose that nothing worthwhile comes without a little pain, and that everything I go through right now will pay off in the end.
That is not what I was thinking about when I got swept and landed on my ass making this really girly noise followed by "shit." What I was thinking of at that point was, "why you sorry mother fucker." He's not, really, but my foot hurt and I was embarrassed.
I got nailed again by the same guy that kicked me in the neck a few months back. For some reason the rib kick really affected me and DAMMIT I started to tear up again. That's really the shits because then I have to pretend that it hurts worse than it does, making the guy who kicked me feel worse than he should. I was discussing with my best friend why I cried (once again hiding it by standing in front of the big fan, thank god). This is the second time it has happened. It's not because it's terribly painful. The solar plexus kick I took earlier hurt worse than the rib kick. I guess it's because I know I suck and anyone on the floor could clean it with my ass any time. Or maybe it's flashbacks to my first marraige. Maybe I'm angry because I work so hard and I still probably couldn't beat a white belt.
Whatever the reason, I try to console myself with the fact that I AM working with zero natural talent here and severe athletic retardation. Most people with my lack of capacity would have quit long ago. It doesn't matter. I'm there for me and no one else.
I will look at my bruises and smile, because those were hits that did not land on my face.
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