Oh, get down off your high horse. You know you feel the same
way.
Last night, I
practically salivated when I saw a family come in, looking to sign up. An older
dude, kind of on the small side, and his youngish son, destined for more muscle
but right now stuck in that awkward puppy stage, with too-big paws and a gangly
lope. The promise of their mother, too, a new female partner. Will she be small
and wiry, or Swedish-masseuse burly? Who cares?!? Fresh Meat!
I am at the stage
of my jiu jitsu career where I might as well be pregnant. You see, I don’t
really eat a lot of meat, and never beef. But when I was pregnant, I couldn’t
stop shoving the stuff down my gullet. My body was saying, “Give your brat some
protein!” And I did. That year, I think I single-handedly ate the whole
Thanksgiving turkey.
 |
| Mmmm! I love me some unicorn! |
That is how I
feel right now about newbs—the more the better. Yes, I am frustrated when they
come in with their hefty muscles and their guns blazing. But, they can’t all be
like that, right? And even if they are, I figure I’ve got a couple months tops
to outsmart them before they figure out enough technique to add to their
strength and foil my jiu jitsu plans.
Right now, I need
practice, I need to play around. And with the boys at my gym, I can’t really do
that. I just hold on for dear life. I need some training partners that I can dangle
on the end of my paw while I try to figure out exactly the right angle I need to get that sub just right.
