A light rain on a chilly morning. A nearly empty shopping center. Four people stand outside a martial arts center and wait. And shiver. And wait.
I reported for kickboxing at 10am sharp. The center owner was unavoidably detained, so no kickboxing for me until tomorrow.
While I waited, devotees of the sport, the center and the absent teacher filled me in on all three.
First, it really hurts. “But in a good way!” one of them assured me. Then they spent a good ten minutes cataloguing injuries–herniated discs, head injuries. Their bodies had really taken a beating. “But in a good way!” Ok, no one said that, but it was definitely implied.
They lauded the teacher’s positive approach to nudging students of all ages beyond imagined limits. One guy mentioned his son’s success, echoing what I’d heard about martial arts building confidence and developing discipline in children.
Sarah is interested in karate, but we haven’t gotten around to trying it. Given her classroom struggles, I would love to see her build confidence in a positive environment that pushes her without making her feel inferior. I said as much. And then my eyes teared up. In front of three strangers.
What’s better than waiting outside on a cold wet day for a class that never happens? Waiting outside on a cold wet day for a class that never happens with a nutjob. You’re welcome, kickboxers!
Sarah’s school struggles have been on my mind since I met with her teacher last week. I’m doing my best not to worry, which is to say that I think about it only every other minute. Hence the emotional reaction to a conversation about karate.
Sarah will probably try karate at some point. Although we’ll need to equip Grace with some self-defense tactics. You know, to even the odds.
Tomorrow, kickboxing. I hope.