I went to a workshop where I pretty much sat for four days.
Before dinner, I got a kick-ass run in at the hotel gym. But for four days it
was an intense, cerebral experience. The night I returned was a jiu jitsu night.
I kissed Husband and Kids lovingly, promised to catch up with them later, and
then hurried off to class. I had already missed one class for this workshop, I didn’t want to
miss another. And my family could wait a couple more hours to connect with me.
They know my life priorities: 1) coffee 2) jiu jitsu 3) family 4) work. It was
time for priority #2.
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| I love you, jiu jitsu, but coffee will always come first! |
Sometimes,
when I have been off the mat for a while, I gingerly step back on, worried I’ve
lost all my accumulated knowledge. I tentatively tap hands, make excuses with an
injury or how tired I am, and move my limbs like dead tree branches attached to
my trunk.
 |
| Sorry, I didn't mean to scratch you with my legs! |
Then
there are other times, like that night. My head was a fog. I couldn’t retain
two instructions that my Prof said. “Were we supposed to start in side?” “Did
he wasn’t us to go twice?” But when it came time to spar, I was a hound
unleashed, unstoppable. I moved around all obstacles, quick quick. My opponents
had no idea where I was going next. My muscles had their own mind and moved
without instructions from my head. Where was this coming from?
It was
a magical night. My favorite partner was a rag doll, moving the way I wanted
him to, and when he didn’t, I just switched my position and complicated things
again. I was having so much fun in my own little reverie that I almost felt
guilty. I wanted to roll with Favorite Partner again, but was that fair? Was it
fair to ask for a reroll because I was kicking his ass? I went easy on him the
second time so as not to hurt his ego, but it wasn’t as satisfying.
Then, when I went with Prof, I
could sense he was easing into the roll, trying to get a feel for where I was
at that night. I didn’t give him a chance. I caught him in a choke before he
even realized we had started.
I rolled with a few more guys and
it was the same thing. I was water on a hot frying pan, dancing around and
frustrating my opponents. It felt so good, but so bad at the same time. I was
powerful, strong, accomplished and winning. And every time I flushed with
pride, I thought, “I can’t do this to so-and-so. How does this make him feel?”
After Prof’s roll, he said, “Wow,
Shark Girl’s on fire tonight.” I was. And when the class was done, I wanted
more. But I packed my bag and went home, knowing that next time I wouldn’t have
this same experience, and hoping it would come again soon.
