I'm Kung-fu, bitches!

I don't think I've talked about my experiences since I started my kung-fu training (in addition to my tai chi training), so here are some keepers.

My first class ever, the only person my age/height was the instructor. So, when we partnered up and took turns holding/hitting/kicking bags, he was the one I worked with. Needless to say, black sashes can punch and kick very well, with a lot of power. So it made me kind of sore. But then when it came time for mock-sparring (only open hand strikes; no punches, no kicks, etc), again, he was the one I worked with. So that was a learning experience.

Later that week, I- you know what? I'm exhausted right now (8 hours of work capped by an hour of class), so I'm going to put a halt on my stories. But tomorrow(ish) I'll edit this post and throw you more tales of adventure and excitement. Good night.

-(Continued from Tuesday's post)

So, later that week was a fuller class, and I was paired up with another white sash named Butch. Now, you would probably think that Butch has had some sort of prior martial arts or combat experience. I sure thought so (he says he hasn't). But the reason I thought this is because his kicks have crazy amounts of power, and he can punch faster than I can count. (Butch is, I'm gonna guess, early 30s.) And, at the end of that class, I had the pleasure of sparring Butch. I missed the black belt. I did okay against Butch, but at some point he unleashed his lightning punches upon me and I couldn't do anything but go defensive. (Although I've since been formulating strategies for our next go-round.) Remember Street Fighter 2? Remember Chun Li (the only female character) or, even better, E. Honda (The fat sumo-wrestler)? Remember his 100-hand slap (or Li's lightning kick)? Yeah, I think Butch learned from them. Seriously; you weren't there!

And lastly (for now), when the owner of the school tells you to brace yourself, you'd better get ready for some ouch. He drove into my bicep a total of three times, and left my arm half-asleep. (And I have no doubt that he was restraining himself.) A seperate (separate?) time, he had me on the floor before I knew what was happening. (Again, restrained; I mean, he didn't clobber me and drop me, which, to me, only emphasizes how much more effective the technique would've been if he had wanted to do so.)

But, through all the bruises and the pains, I'm loving life. I can (and do) spend hours at school and, despite being exhausted and hungry at the end of the day, the time flies by and I can't think of a better way to spend it. These days I've been promoting the merits of studying martial arts (particularly at my school, thanks to a healthy dose of school pride) almost as much as I have being single. And, with that, I'm going to sign off again. Ciao!