I like Summer, I really do, however anything above 18c and I really *REALLY* begin to suffer.  Unfortunately, for some of my colleagues, adding Karate to this “uncomfort” has the frankly undesirable effect of me producing copious amounts of sweat.

This past week has been full on with Karate; a Seminar weekend, teaching classes and attending senior training.  I think I may have lost twice my body weight in delicate perspiration.. or at least that’s what I tell myself.

Ah well, as a great philosopher once intoned, “The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the devils own satanic herd”… although he probably never had to wrestle with a fragrantly soaked 16oz heavyweight Gi whilst trying to air it.

..and it is this sweatiness that I shall use as an excuse for the black eye I received at the seminar, that or ninjas!  Lots and lots of Ninjas!  That’ll keep my students quiet and not asking why I didn’t “block” the offending punch.

I think this Summer is gonna be a long and steamy one from a karate perspective.  Which’ll be fun, especially at grading time – running around trying to catch wilting students before they face-plant the dojo floor.  I also have the slightly uncomfortable feeling that this coming July grading shares the same  space as one’s day of birth.

*sigh*… ok, time to go and practise my kicks (which are woeful at the moment) and think of some more excuses as to why I’ve gotten the shiner before my students asks any hard questions.

Oh, and a *HUGE* Big Up and best wishes to Libby, Darren, Jackie, Paul and Roy who are off to the Black Belt Grading on Sunday.. You’ll storm it guys!

Human powered flight is difficult enough as it is.  Trying to look dangerous and lethal at the same time only compounds that difficulty.  Combining both elements whilst two of your colleagues look on, sniggering and making tinkerbell-like-fluttering motions make the task nigh on impossible!

I think I may have talked myself into a slight corner with, and I’m not entirely sure how, the aforementioned ninja based human flight having an unholy alliance with a kilt.  I believe it may have coincided with a dare.. and very possibly a double-dare.

Time to think of something, sharpish!

..and for those of you wondering, this is how you take flight karate stylee;

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www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cuRkVB-xwU

..I hate mornings!

So to have to swing my body up from the horizontal to something that faintly resembled the vertical at an hour that my brain hasn’t even begun to register in its 40 odd years of registering, means that something is afoot.

Karate tournament day!

Quite why I keep on going is not entirely clear to me.  I inevitably come back with a myriad of injuries; broken fingers, thumbs, toes and more bruises than an upset apple cart.  Add to that the shockingly quick exit from any bout that I stumble into, and get carried out from, and you begin to understand why friends and family all ask, what I hinted to at the beginning of this paragraph;

“Why do you keep going?  You’re rubbish!”

To be honest it’s probably because I am SO bad at this tournament malarkey that makes me want to keep on going back, that and because it is such a huge amount of fun!  We all need to stretch ourselves, to get that knot of fear in your stomach as you realise that your names just been called and you are now expected to either complete a complex sequence of moves in front of a room full of critical eyes OR be faced against someone whose trouser-holding-up-device is several shades darker than yours and has a somewhat alarming glint in their eye as they stare back at you!

Tongue suddenly dries up and attaches to the roof of the mouth, vision tunnels, orifices pucker up and you step into the ring…

Proud much? Oh yeah!

..Of course, as the title kinda suggests, one thing does tend to follow the other.  Fortunately the “fall” was rather more literal than philosophical, and even more fortunate wasn’t captured on any photographic device for later evidence.  Team Kumite is a roller-coaster of a ride and doesn’t tend to allow you to blink let alone prepare yourself for the onslaught, and this particular team kumite was producing more injuries than the rest of the tournament put together!

I don’t think I have to dwell on my literal downfall;  suffice to say my opponents sweep was excellent, the crunching of my already broken toe was a nice touch, and the kick to the chest allows those colleagues who didn’t attend to ask; “how the f**k did you get a bruise THERE?!”… I think I’d feel cheated if I didn’t come away from these events without some form of injury that didn’t persist for at least a week… or four!

Oh, and of course I couldn’t let it slide that number one son managed to get his first medal too!  Proud parent and all that

It doesn’t matter how many karate lessons you take, the grade of your belt, the years of practise, blood, sweat n tears invested, extracted and demanded by your Sensei.. or even the years of accumulated experience gained through 40 years of what life has thrown at you.  Nothing really quite prepares you for being attacked by a stationary pillar!

There was no attempted block, or retaliatory strike, as the aforementioned stationary pillar maliciously jumped out at me whilst I was looking elsewhere… the “KYAI” was also absent, although it was replaced with a kind of muffled “Gnnfff!” noise.

I now have a slightly sore head, a bruised arse (whence I landed), a cheezy look on my face and I’m thinking about taking my pride to A&E.

A reconstruction follows…

www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMNnZ5TRHsM

Also, if I do get a facial bruise, and Sensei asks anyone; I was attacked by 10 or 20 ninjas… or Sarah and her phantom belly button! (in joke, but once she reads this the outcome will be the same as 10-20 ninjas).

*sigh*

Popularity is always a nice thing, however it’s a little unsettling when the people you’re popular with are only after your blood.  I tried interesting them in my body, but no joy.

It also seems a little strange that being negative is an absolute positive, at least in the minds of the aforementioned Vampires that I appear to be so popular with.

You have to hand it to the National Blood Service, they know exactly which buttons to press to get my full attention, and the lovely female Gaelic lilt on the end of the phone certainly pushed the majority of them; so, on the 9th March, I am off to give my usual armful of red go-go juice.

Truth be told though, I hate needles… Really, really *HATE* needles!  So the thought of voluntarily going to a place where I’ll be jabbed and drained is somewhat of an anathema to me (I think I may have ‘intimated’ in previous posts about my slight squeamishness).

But, seeing as the Blood Services website tells me my blood (O-) is ‘very special indeed‘, it would seem churlish not to gift them some of it for the greater good; especially after such a nice compliment.  Usually when people tell me I’m “special”, I get the distinct feeling it’s not in quite the same way I imagine they mean.

Another reason I go is precisely BECAUSE I hate needles so much!  I am hoping that one day all these visits will finally get me over this little phobia.  It’s this vein hope (get it? get it? vein, rather than vain… forget it!) that I also volunteer to do Kata at each Karate Tournament that comes along.  One day, maybe the one coming up on the 27th February, I won’t be my usual mitigated disaster and complete it without looking like I have swapped feet with my 8 year old son!

It’s a hope, however vein or vain, and until it’s realised I’ll just have to be content with being “special”.

As much as I want to jot down the daily doings of me, in some kind of narcissistic ‘dear diary’, the truth is that not an awful lot of interest happens.  Life certainly isn’t in any shape or form as life-and-death as Ann Frank’s, or as tally-ho-trousers-down-and-up-the-constituents as Alan Clark’s.

So I find myself, during lunchtime at work, again within one of the music pods, sitting in front of this blog wondering what the hell to write down?  Life, as I see it, is pretty much consisting of the following;

1. Work is work.  I work in a Bank designing computer systems, how exactly exciting do you think that can get?   Of course, the slightly annoying element of me being no longer required come 31st December does cause some concern… but 31st DECEMBER?!  That’s like a lifetime away! (feel free to point me in the direction of this post in 2011 and rub my face in it if things don’t entirely work out the way I hope)
2. Karate is still providing the source of me getting beaten up in various, and intriguing, ways by multiple peoples.  Just as an aside a new lesson has been learnt; do NOT do leg exercises at the Gym just before a karate lesson later that evening.  The results are not impressive and the scowling by ones Sensei is something frightening to behold.
3. Home-life is home-life.  Trying to resolve the latest home based dramas; house, heating, repairs, family arguments, money, etc, etc. is starting to feel like work.  In the spirit of holding my hand up though, this is no different than anyone else.  However the feeling of just throwing the arms up in the air with some of the new drama’s and say “Fine, I give up, have it your way!” is just too strong at the moment.
4. Sleep is not sleep.  ‘Nuff said.
5. Go back to step #1

In my actual verbal self I am a person who doesn’t mind not having something to say.  I am completely comfortable, when I have nothing of interest to say, in saying nothing at all.  I don’t have the gift of the gab or have a hundred and one amusing anecdotes with which to regale friends and colleagues alike, and as seen from the above there’s nothing of note to bore the poor person I happen to be with about.

I just wish I had the same control when it came to blogging, although why blog in the first place if that were to be the case?  Here’s as good a place as any to dump any brain-fartage and it’s not as though anyone reads the thing!

There, “ramble” done and dumped onto the t’interweb along with all the other rubbish that inhabit it.  No violence (or at least none seen), or porn (that would be too terrifying a vision to dwell on) or conclusion to this post….

…just a faint stale smell, depending on how long after I posted this you read it, and a slightly relieved feeling on my part to expel it albeit somewhat publicly (which is very rude).

• Get better at Karate (at least one grade better this year)
• Get fit (also interpret that as ‘slim’)

But that’s about it.  I also can’t be much bothered to review last years, apart from; I did achieve the two belts, but didn’t get fit.

Ever so slightly uninspired today.  However the cartoon below did brighten the day somewhat…

It would seem I was a little premature in my moping last week and needn’t have worried quite as much as I did.  Yep, this does mean that I have actually completed at least one of my new years resolutions and graded two belts this year!

It probably seems a strange state of affairs, especially when seen by those who don’t do martial arts, that progress and a sense of achievement is only gained after a beating.. and let’s be clear, I was battered senseless last night, but it’s the way in which you pick yourself up and keep going forward that differentiates between a white belt and a black belt.  Or at least that’s what Sensei says as he delivers another blow!

The other differentiator is having a group of friends behind you, cheering you on, and picking you up when you do hit a low point.  Special thanks to Libby, Sarah and Ed, who always seem to make that little extra effort to gee you up and tell you, when required, to stop being an arse (not that Libby would ever use the “a” word… Sarah on the other hand would probably use something stronger and involve a back-fist to the stomach somewhere in the conversation… but you get the picture).

As Epicurus once noted;

“It is not so much our friends’ help that helps us as the confident knowledge that they will help us.”

My karate, as with other things, has stalled.  Despite putting in what I feel is 100%, the execution seems to fall far short of the expected standard and the appearance of going backwards more than forwards is somewhat disheartening.

Maybe it’s just a recurrence of what a good friend once called “Blue belt blues”.

T’would seem my old managers favourite dictum, muttered every pay and bonus review time, has come back to haunt; “Remember, Andy, that 100% of nothing is still nothing”.

Wallowing, angst and other inglorious forms of self pity will of course be accompanied by some very loud music, in the Marilyn Mansun and Iron Maiden flavours methinks, and occassionally interspersed with some comedy genius.

…buggar!  Still not sorted this out either!

When I was younger, as is the want of small boys, I could be found doing mock ninja battles or showing off my martial arts skills in homage to my heroes on TV, more often than not this would usually be “Monkey“.

Although I started karate, a few years back, for very noble reasons; the pursuit of fitness, control, the learning of ancient japanese martial arts, and of course to not be beaten up by my own kids… a little part of me was also the young boy playing Monkey in the playground.

I think it’s fair to say that, at no point in time, did my playground playing include hideously drunk idiots taking wild pot-shots at me.

I’ve had a few people ask me “what exactly did you do?”, but in truth I am not exactly sure.

It wasn’t some long drawn out affair, like you see on television, only about 15 or 20 seconds from first appearance to end whimper.  There was a swing of the fist, there was an unthinking reply to that, and it was all over.

Maybe surprisingly I have mixed feelings about the whole episode.  Somewhat happy that Sensei’s lesson are, in some form, finally getting through my thick skull; but then again, somewhat embarrassed that I can’t remember what I did, or that it didn’t match entirely what I had been taught… maybe.

We’re taught, within our particular flavour of karate, to control our strikes and to restrain that last inch before making contact with whoever we are sparring.  It is somewhat surprising, then, to find out what is within yourself when you release that final inch.

…and mostly somewhat sad that my first proper use of karate was on some drunk and not battling demons and bad guys like in the playground.

Growing up can be such a buggaration sometimes!