Tag Archives: fitness

Aug1

And so it happened

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And so it happened

We knew the day was coming, but knowing in advance didn’t make its arrival any easier.

The New Girls, Blonde and Brunette, officially joined Master Cycle. That meant Instructor split Her Royal Highness and me up to partner with the lower belts.

That I should be considered a “higher belt” is ironic, but here we are.

I was with Brunette for what was her first MC class, and it went fine, from my perspective. The challenges are old hat to me, but later I got a text from her saying she wanted to cry after class.

And so I talked her down, much like HRH had done for me, telling her it would all be okay, eventually.

Being the elegant lady that I am, I described it thus: “I know it’s rough going from top dog in Combatives to little puppy not yet potty trained in Master Cycle” and explained it’s tough for all of us, but everyone is so kind and helpful.

And so the Ilsa has become the HRH, though I don’t think Her Royal Highness has ever wet the mat.
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Jul28

Back to our regularly scheduled program

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Back to our regularly scheduled program

In other words, I went back to Jiu-Jitsu Saturday morning after my surgery on Monday. The doctor had warned, “Nothing more than a stationary bike. Don’t get your blood pressure up.”

I don’t have a stationary bike, so I basically got slothful for several days. Feeling my muscles shrink and my stomach sag, I at least did a set of push-ups Friday. My nose throbbed afterward, however.

Oh well. It’s been too long since I’d Jiu-Jitsued it up, so I donned my gi and fresh nose Band-Aids and headed to the mixed beginner (Combatives) and advanced (Master Cycle) class.

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May30

Here’s something I didn’t tell you

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Here’s something I didn’t tell you

Remember that time I got dressed up to meet Sensei at the library for zucchini? It wasn’t just for zucchini. We were plotting and scheming a Taekwondo class at my kids’ school.

Here’s the thing: everyone in my family is a Taekwondo black belt except Little Joe. That makes me sad for him. When my daughters and I did Taekwondo, we were Sensei’s last students before he essentially retired.

I’d like to argue that, since the very last black belt he handed out was to me, he broke the mold. How could anyone top that? But I pulled him out of retirement to help me start this class.

As a quick refresher of my post, Because I go to stupid lengths for humor, I had decided to forgo my usual ratty clothes by wearing my fanciest dress for a library meeting. At our next meeting, Sensei, who likewise typically arrives in the same red sweat pants and yellow or blue T-shirt, attempted to show me up.

Sensei dressed up. And he brought more zucchini. Of course.
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Apr21

More editing brouhaha!

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More editing brouhaha!

Book 2, Wish YOU Were Here (Not to be confused with book 1, Wish *I* Was Here), came back with edits for the first 20 pages. Remember when I went through this last time? You writers came out of the woodwork to offer your expertise.

I loved it. So let’s do it again, shall we?

The main thing this editor said was that I had too many one-sentence paragraphs, which weakens the impact when I want those quick grafs to really stand out. I get that. The challenge then was finding which short paragraphs to combine. For instance:

“How much money is it?”

“Seven thousand five hundred and eighty dollars.”

My mouth fell open.

“It’s a start anyway.” He jogged across the parking lot.

I stared after him, dumbfounded.

He gestured for me to follow. “Ana, come on.”

I shook the bewilderment off and joined him. “Keep a look out, will you?” He dropped to his knees and opened another compartment of his bag.

Everything after “How much money is it?” could be combined into one paragraph, really. But should it? I combined a few in the middle. What would you do?

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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?

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Aug11

Teaching girls to kick butt and take names

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Teaching girls to kick butt and take names

This was my third year teaching a girls’ self defense summer camp. I wore a boot for my not-quite-healed broken foot, but I made it work.

The last day was a flurry of fast-paced review, interrupted briefly by what the girls called “story time” for which they gathered around me in a semi-circle.

I’d already given a speech about situational awareness and how their level of alertness should go up as the comfort of their surroundings goes down. (And for goodness sake, don’t be looking at your phone.) This time I gave them real talk about danger from non-strangers and what to do if a relative, family friend, or future coworker makes them uncomfortable.

At the end, one of them said, “That wasn’t a very fun story.” So I added, “Then you grab their head and smash your knee in their face!”

They all shouted, “Yay!”

Not even kidding. It always amuses me how stiff and quiet they are the first few days. By the end,

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Mar18

When I returned home with the new Jiu-Jitsu belt

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When I returned home with the new Jiu-Jitsu belt

I stood at the end of the hallway as two of my girls wandered out of their room toward me. It was a delight to witness their wide-mouthed excitement as they took in my blue belt.

“You got it!” one said.

I stayed in my gi, waiting for Hubby to get home so I could likewise greet him.

When I did, he said, “I knew it. When you grabbed your belt on the way out, I almost said, ‘Do you think you’ll need that after tonight?’ But I didn’t want you to get inside your own head. Then when I got home and saw your belt missing from its usual place, I knew. You put it away because you no longer need it.” He smiled and nodded. “Somehow, I just knew you were getting the new one tonight.”

I was seriously impressed by his premonition. Then I relayed the events of the night, all of my failures and reprimands and terrible mistakes.

And it happened again.

I am not normally a crier, yet I was an exhausted, emotional wreck, shocked by the irony of the worst night ending in my greatest triumph. I was blubbering like a whale* (I just made that up) and shoving strips of napkin up my nose because we’re out of tissues. (You’re very welcome for the visual.)

“This happened, then this, and this,” all while Oldest Daughter and Hubby watched, mutely marveling at this rare display from a black and now blue–appropriately like a bruise–belt martial artist who can kill a man using just one of her legs.**

After getting all of this out, I began to remember good moments in the night’s class also.

The Taekwondo belt rack is temporarily hosting some new friends.

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Mar16

It was my worst Jiu-Jitsu class ever…

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It was my worst Jiu-Jitsu class ever…

First, I got reprimanded for inadvertently insulting Balloon Man. When I lifted my head to explain, Instructor pushed it back down, silently saying, “Stop talking; do the move.” But at least, from what I glimpsed, Balloon Man did not appear insulted.

Nevertheless, I needed to keep mentally changing the subject afterward because being reprimanded by Instructor, which has happened three times now, makes me want to cry. I hate disappointing him.

Then it was roll time, and Instructor and Balloon Man sat right next to Money and me. I can barely function when I know he’s watching. I even said, “Do you really have to sit right there watching?”

“Just roll,” he said.

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Mar2

You should see the other guy

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Given that our recent focus in Jiu-Jitsu has been all things lower extremities: heel hooks, ankle locks, knee bars, and now toe holds, I’m not surprised by how colorful my skin has become from the knee down. This adds to the near-omnipresent arm bruises.

But one night before class, I considered how cool it would be to have a black eye. I’m all about new experiences; why not this one? I’ve thought this a handful of times, so the only reason it’s unique now, is that I sort of got my wish.

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Feb16

Talking Music with Surfer Dude/Instructor the Mind Reader

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Talking Music with Surfer Dude/Instructor the Mind Reader
My neighbor, Subie, on left, Surfer Dude on right, saying, “Shout out to Ilsa’s blog readers!” [Not really, but how awesome would that have been?]

One night for rolls at Jiu-Jitsu, a song by Pierce the Veil called “Bulls in the Bronx” played. During a flamenco interlude, I couldn’t help but stop rolling with Surfer Dude to “dance” while kneeling. Not missing a beat, he pulled on a prim and proper face like a flamenco guitarist and pretended to play. It was priceless.

Back to rolling, which always involves laughter when I’m with SD (and most people, but especially SD), I said, “Maybe we’re just having too much fun,” a second before that line was sung.

He smiled and fist bumped me with our sparring gloves on.

Later, I was rolling with Balloon Man when “Ride the Lightning” by Metallica played. I ALMOST pulled the same stunt by telling Balloon Man (not going to abbreviate that one), “Now it’s time to die,” to align with the song.

I didn’t have the nerve. I told SD about it later. He said,

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