Paying to Lose
It's not often in my adult life that I am faced with losing. A childhood of "loserdom" taught me how to avoid circumstances where the statistical likelihood of losing was great. Such circumstances are those requiring:
Agility
Grace
Coordination
Staying upright
Ability to remember sequences under pressure
Telling left from right quickly
Hitting small things with an object
Throwing or compelling things into a goal/net/hole, etc
Team-based gym time in school sucked. I was the guaranteed out. The guaranteed hurdle-knocker. The slow runner, the slow direction-changer, the slow baton passer. I couldn't climb the knotted rope. Throw me the basketball and maybe I'll hit the backboard but don't expect any hoops. Pass the soccer ball and maybe 50/50 I could kick it towards one of my own teammates. I was the kid who would score accidentally on her own team. The kid who would run the wrong direction in football. In dodgeball, red balls would hail upon me like whistling meteors as soon as the teacher said go.
I was the eye-rolling last one chosen for teams. I was a LOSER.
In the last 18 years (christ, 18...) since graduating high school, I've forgotten what it feels like to get my ass kicked, to be the slow one, the clumsy one, the lead-footed dumbass. At work I'm the expert, cool under pressure, able to leap vast mental distances in a single bound to explain why SAP isn't populating a table correctly. In music, I'm regarded as a good singer and performer - I feel confident and am quite comfortable laughing at myself when I forget the words and nearly train-wreck the band. Socially, I'm considered at least personable and somewhat clever - I'm not the life of the party but I get in a good line or two. I make up for my verbal shortcomings by doing hilarious things like accidentally throwing my own drink in my face when confronted with something funny (yes this has happened, please continue laughing, resume reading when done).
Ever since my 2006 hip fracture, I've felt a need to confront my latent clumsy loser. It's always bothered me I tripped and fell in such a retarded, ungraceful, uncoordinated way that I nearly fucked myself up for life. So... enter the Krav Maga training center.
I've always been interested in Krav, which is the Israeli army's system of self defense. It's pretty metal, preaching no mercy or quarter to your attacker. Neutralize the threat. My inner warrior has always wanted to know how to fight. Learning to punch, to kick, to do combos - these are all things I hope will help overcome my staggering inability to tell left from right in high pressure situations. Krav can challenge one's ability to remain upright. I have already been kicked to the floor three times and am slowly learning how to prevent that from happening. Remembering sequences... I'm getting better but my brain is still popping breakers on the complicated drills. Agility - I've hopped about more in the last 4 weeks than I have in the last 14 years. Coordination - hands up, chin down, elbows in, fighting stance, on balls of feet, abs tight, eyes aware... I can do three at once. Add another and one of the original three falls off. It's like my brain has only so many slots. I'm sorry, your inventory is full, please select an item to drop.
It's been a humbling experience. Last night was pretty bad. I felt like I did in 7th grade: beaten, spent. My female partner outweighed me by about 40 lbs and had much more experience. I got:
1. Punched in the throat
2. Punched in the nose
3. Kneed in the gut
4. Knocked into the wall
5. Scratched badly on the arm (I left bleeding)
I drove to Drifter practice sniveling. Doing the math in my head to convince myself if I never went back that somehow a year's worth of membership dues would be okay to forfeit. Playing the "I don't wanna anymore" game. Considering the phrase: "I quit."
Losers quit. I'm not a loser. But I did lose last night. If that had been a real fight, I would have been unconscious in the hospital today. My ass would have been kicked. I would have been utterly pwned and there would have been little I could do to stop it.
So, until I can overcome my poor coordination, lack of agility and personally shocking lack of strength, I will be the willing loser. My credit card will be charged for twice weekly beat-downs. A year from now, I will emerge able to turn around without losing my balance and throw a left-right-right-left combo without having to think about making "L"s with my hands. But until then, I'm paying to lose... and you know what? It feels good!
Agility
Grace
Coordination
Staying upright
Ability to remember sequences under pressure
Telling left from right quickly
Hitting small things with an object
Throwing or compelling things into a goal/net/hole, etc
Team-based gym time in school sucked. I was the guaranteed out. The guaranteed hurdle-knocker. The slow runner, the slow direction-changer, the slow baton passer. I couldn't climb the knotted rope. Throw me the basketball and maybe I'll hit the backboard but don't expect any hoops. Pass the soccer ball and maybe 50/50 I could kick it towards one of my own teammates. I was the kid who would score accidentally on her own team. The kid who would run the wrong direction in football. In dodgeball, red balls would hail upon me like whistling meteors as soon as the teacher said go.
I was the eye-rolling last one chosen for teams. I was a LOSER.
In the last 18 years (christ, 18...) since graduating high school, I've forgotten what it feels like to get my ass kicked, to be the slow one, the clumsy one, the lead-footed dumbass. At work I'm the expert, cool under pressure, able to leap vast mental distances in a single bound to explain why SAP isn't populating a table correctly. In music, I'm regarded as a good singer and performer - I feel confident and am quite comfortable laughing at myself when I forget the words and nearly train-wreck the band. Socially, I'm considered at least personable and somewhat clever - I'm not the life of the party but I get in a good line or two. I make up for my verbal shortcomings by doing hilarious things like accidentally throwing my own drink in my face when confronted with something funny (yes this has happened, please continue laughing, resume reading when done).
Ever since my 2006 hip fracture, I've felt a need to confront my latent clumsy loser. It's always bothered me I tripped and fell in such a retarded, ungraceful, uncoordinated way that I nearly fucked myself up for life. So... enter the Krav Maga training center.
I've always been interested in Krav, which is the Israeli army's system of self defense. It's pretty metal, preaching no mercy or quarter to your attacker. Neutralize the threat. My inner warrior has always wanted to know how to fight. Learning to punch, to kick, to do combos - these are all things I hope will help overcome my staggering inability to tell left from right in high pressure situations. Krav can challenge one's ability to remain upright. I have already been kicked to the floor three times and am slowly learning how to prevent that from happening. Remembering sequences... I'm getting better but my brain is still popping breakers on the complicated drills. Agility - I've hopped about more in the last 4 weeks than I have in the last 14 years. Coordination - hands up, chin down, elbows in, fighting stance, on balls of feet, abs tight, eyes aware... I can do three at once. Add another and one of the original three falls off. It's like my brain has only so many slots. I'm sorry, your inventory is full, please select an item to drop.
It's been a humbling experience. Last night was pretty bad. I felt like I did in 7th grade: beaten, spent. My female partner outweighed me by about 40 lbs and had much more experience. I got:
1. Punched in the throat
2. Punched in the nose
3. Kneed in the gut
4. Knocked into the wall
5. Scratched badly on the arm (I left bleeding)
I drove to Drifter practice sniveling. Doing the math in my head to convince myself if I never went back that somehow a year's worth of membership dues would be okay to forfeit. Playing the "I don't wanna anymore" game. Considering the phrase: "I quit."
Losers quit. I'm not a loser. But I did lose last night. If that had been a real fight, I would have been unconscious in the hospital today. My ass would have been kicked. I would have been utterly pwned and there would have been little I could do to stop it.
So, until I can overcome my poor coordination, lack of agility and personally shocking lack of strength, I will be the willing loser. My credit card will be charged for twice weekly beat-downs. A year from now, I will emerge able to turn around without losing my balance and throw a left-right-right-left combo without having to think about making "L"s with my hands. But until then, I'm paying to lose... and you know what? It feels good!
posted by Skullgal at 1:43 PM
3 comments
