Jan31

Will she or won’t she?

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Will she or won’t she?

I had had two short nights of sleep in a row, finally falling into bed late Friday night after this cool candlelight concert of 90s music performed by a string quartet.

They took the candlelight thing very seriously. This isn’t even half of them. They were everywhere.
You can sort of see the chairs where the four musicians sat. The show was great. I’ll never hear “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana or “Enter Sandman” by Metallica quite the same again.

So back to crashing into bed Friday night: Hubby asked if he should wake me for 8:30 Jiu-Jitsu class the next morning.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe my body needs sleep. If I don’t wake up in time, leave me be.”

Did I wake up in time?

H-yes, I did! At 6:55 even because I’m a bit of an over-achiever, I guess? But I was bright-eyed and… well, I don’t have a tail, so never mind, even making it to the gym a few seconds before the instructors.

This whole go or no go thing reminded me of my struggle over returning to Jiu-Jitsu. I had made my peace with putting Jiu-Jitsu behind me. Then I’d get together with HRH, go to a seminar, or see social media posts from the gym, and think, “I want to go back.” Then I’d tell myself that the foot break was the universe’s way of telling me to call it quits.

But something weird happened during a wedding, of all places. Out of nowhere, I thought, “I’m not happy.” Some joie de vivre was definitely missing.

“I think I need to go back to Jiu-Jitsu,” I told Hubby. But my certainty that I should seemed to counter-balance with my certainty that, for whatever reason, I wasn’t supposed to, maybe for the sake of 60-year-old Ilsa looking back angrily from her wheelchair at younger, foolhardy Ilsa.

Then you know the rest: that half-price deal for returning students, the assurance I wouldn’t have to test for purple up at HQ, etc. Maybe the timing just hadn’t been right. I appreciated Instructor’s subtle way of expressing pleasure at my return by remarking, “Look at you in your new gi,” with a bright smile.

But oh how I HATE how far behind I’ve fallen.

I look at my former contemporaries from way back, Lawyer and Thoughtful One. They have three stripes. Since I was actually about a half year ahead of them, I might have four by now.

Then, after my second return, there was Humble One, who received his blue belt the same night as me. He has one stripe, so I likely would too. At least, since I was gone for seven months, I won’t be comparing myself to him, noticing how much better he is than me despite having started at the same level. If everyone sees he’s better, that’s to be expected. One small silver lining. (Because comparing yourself to others is totally the path to happiness, I know.)

Because it was a morning class, not the weekday classes that end at 9 pm, I decided to stay for rolls, especially because when I leave, Instructor notices, and I feel bad. I need to get myself back in there. So today I stayed, which meant I couldn’t avoid…

The Beast.

I didn’t know this guy, so I first asked his name. “Good to meet you. I’m Ilsa, and now I must destroy you.”

Yeah, I totally said that, in jest, because the dude is massive. His bicep is the size of my head. So for approximately four minutes and forty-five seconds he tried to submit me, but I wouldn’t let him. He finally muscled his way to an Americana with fifteen seconds left on the clock.

“Man, that was tough,” he exclaimed when the timer rang. “Your defense is amazing,” he added, hopefully loud enough for Instructor to hear.

And so, even though I “lost” against a clearly superior opponent who probably sized me up and figured he had it in the bag, I left confident that any b*st*rd (sorry) who tries to attack me may just find I’m more trouble than I’m worth. And if he doesn’t know Jiu-Jitsu, and if he’s not the size of The Beast, I might go on offense and teach the fool a lesson.

Now I know: despite my Jiu-Jitsu being subpar for where it ought to be, I can still defend myself.

So, yeah. It’s good to be back.

Great, great, but what’s the damage?

I know you crazy psychopaths are out for blood and want to see my “training marks.” I’ve accumulated several good ones.

This morning HRH asked, “Are those scars?”

“No,” I told her. “Those are scratches from you.”

This feels like one of those “count the squares” games, but instead it’s “count the scrapes.”

Then there are others I don’t notice until I jump in the shower and the water hits them.

This little dude stung.
The shower helped me discover another.

And later I realized there were more bruises there than met the eye.

Previously, I had one scrape on my shoulder that made me wonder if it was bleeding, but I wasn’t willing to strain my rashguard collar to check. (It wasn’t.) I later showed HRH, foolishly expecting her to be like, “Oooh, ouch.” Instead:

Her response cracked me up. No babying here. We rejoice in our war wounds. Though I can’t tell you the number of times my left arm hurts (like now, in fact, thanks to The Beast’s Americana) and I think, “Am I having a heart attack? No, it’s just Jiu-Jitsu.”

Reminder: the last answer about the headbutt was Glasgow.

New Q: This famous character was four years old in 1950, six years old in 1957, and remained eight (?) years old from 1979 until February13, 2000. [That (?) is in the question itself.]

Good luck!

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69 responses »

  1. I love how proudly you brandish your war wounds! 😊 It must feel so good to be back. You will catch up to your contemporaries in no time.

    The candlelight concert to 90s music must’ve been quite the experience!

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  2. Just looking at those pictures makes ME hurt. I’m going to go take a tylenol and lie down now 😀

    As for the trivia, I do know the answer. I just don’t want to blurt it out though. So does “Wah wah, wah, wah wah wah” count?

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  3. I get marks on my body like that too, but from working in my woodshop. Still I’ve followed one golden rule in my shop work: Don’t bleed on the equipment. Mostly I follow that rule because I don’t want any of my projects to get my DNA on them — you know just in case they are ever used in a crime and forensic testing leads them back to me.

    And Charlie Brown was eight and a half by 1979. Yes, I’ve read most of the comics and have seen all the animated shows.

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  5. I’ll bet the concert was great, I’d love the whole candlelight strings thing, no matter what genre they were playing. it sounds like you made the right choice to go back, judging by the happy sound in your writing voice! and your pride in your warrior wounds – ouch

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  7. Hi – girl, you must be so tough! Congrats on getting back into it. My son had to quit – he hurt his knee this last time and that has been it – but I know he sure enjoyed it.
    I admire that you do such a rigorous sport.

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  12. The candlelight concert sounds cool, but then again, I’m not a firefighter. It looks like a firefighter’s worst nightmare. I can just see the want ad for string quartet members: Pyrophobes need not apply.
    I have to say, when you said it was a morning class and you stayed for rolls, my brain immediately went to “rolls and coffee.” What can I say? My brain prioritizes pastries.
    Trivia: N.A.C. (not a clue)

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  16. I understand, even though Jiu-Jitsu is beyond my comprehension (ouch, hard, I’m too soft, etc.) but once we find an exercise that works with/for our body, we need it. That’s how I am with yoga. When I leave a class, I am a different person. A happy, calm, flexible woman who feels as strong as …. as someone doing Jiu-Jitsu!

    One of my grandson’s is taking Jiu-Jitsu, and he’s the riskiest of my son’s three boys. On Christmas Eve the risky grandson (15) tried to show my son one of his moves and my son hit his head hard on a metal table and blacked out. For a long time. The older grandson (17) drove his dad to the hospital in 2-feet of snow and HAD NEVER driven in snow before (well, he’d hardly driven anywhere). To me, he’s the bravest of all of us. Oh, and my son is fine, a mild concussion, but no more Jiu-Jitsu allowed in the house. 🙂

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  17. I was practically screaming “Charlie Brown!” when I read this, but seeing 48 comments already posted–including one from the smartest dude ever–I knew I was way too late to the party. You really need to give me a heads up before you post next time!

    (Not really, because if you do, that’ll be a trivia question I don’t know.)

    You know how you get a kick out of it every time “shit” appears in my blog? I feel the same way about you writing “b*st*rd.” Such a potty mouth you are, B!

    The candlelight concert sounds intriguing, and obviously, right up my alley.

    Liked by 1 person

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    • In reverse order, you would have enjoyed the Candlelight thing for sure if you’re down with stringed instruments. One violinist did most of the “singing” parts, and it was amazing how a string can be made to sound like singing. Entertaining to watch as well as to hear.

      I’ll not faux swear on my blog often, but when the situation warrants it, I can’t help myself. Also, fun fact: that particular word is my favorite in the English language. I can’t explain it, but it makes me giggle or smile every time. Hubby knows this and uses it to deliver a quick shot of mood boost when needed. 😛 (I’m such a weirdo.)

      Right, right! Post on Monday mornings! Sorry I forgot.

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