This one's for Nanna.

* * My alarm chimes and the phone rocks itself closer to the edge of the shelf above my bed. Surfacing from beneath layers of down comforter and the cocoon of an impossibly soft fleece blanket, I extend one very sore arm toward the source of the unwelcome interruption to a deep sleep. The sound is easily silenced, as is my internal training clock. The bike will have to wait. My quads are shredded, my hamstrings are seized up and I couldn’t even walk in a straight line yesterday- today promises to be no better.


Training.

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I'm proud of the saggy, scared, water bottle-hugging people who crowded Purple-Planet Fitness yesterday. Resolute, overweight, undernourished, sad, frightened, hopeful, ready for a change they can believe in. Yes, them. I do, actually, care about them. See, I tried not to. But it didn't work. I tried to hate the way they overran the locker rooms, took up all the treadmills, avoided the free weights, travelled in pairs, carried towels everywhere, bulged their eyeballs and left the floor after 20 minutes. I couldn't. Hate them.

I loved them. Their timidity was refreshing. Their neophyte excitement was contagion. I drank it in. I used it. It powered me through a wretched leg workout.

_________

I limped into the dojang, just flying below the radar. Sometimes, everything I’ve got is nowhere close to being enough. I bring what I have. The thermometer in the Jeep reads -38F and it hasn’t budged for days. The cold seeps into every aspect of life, draining batteries in the soul. I’m here to recharge, to put something Life-like back in to the equation.

My scalp starts sweating before I even put my sparring gear on. I don’t dare sit down to finish putting on my ‘feet’; I may not get back up. Stiff, awkward, aching- I move as swiftly as possible, trying not to let it show.

It shows.

Sparring a black belt, I take a punishment. I’m blocking, but not landing many kicks of my own. Suddenly, a turning kick comes flying out of nowhere. Instinctively, I turn half-facing and take the shot directly to my glutes. Double-ouch. The movement sets me up to fire one of my own and the pain wakes me up. It’s gonna hurt whether or not I fully engage.

I engage.

Balancing on the balls of my feet, I find a little something More.

________________

Des and I have committed to competing in a Taekwon-Do tournament: pattern work, sparring, board breaking. Our dojang is hosting the competition as a fundraiser for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital; all proceeds from the fundraiser go directly to Martial Arts for St. Jude, all costs are absorbed by our school.


The tournament is Sunday, January 22, 2012.



The links to our individual fundraising pages are on the sidebar of this page. And hey, if you’re local, why not stop by and watch us do what we do? If you live in the Fairbanks area, email me and I’ll get you details on the where/when.

So, why St. Jude? He is the patron saint of hopeless and desperate cases. St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital is one of the world’s premier pediatric cancer research centers. St. Jude is the only pediatric cancer research center where families never pay for treatment not covered by insurance. No child is ever denied treatment because of the family’s inability to pay.

Enough said?





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