Friday, December 14, 2012

I'm Different

On the topic of Fuckshit, I have lost my entire mind. I have no clue why I decide to do the things I do, but one day I will either be too tired, too old or too smart to continue. I have finally (at damn near 40) embarking on the ambition of my life. A quest that I have thought about, occasionally bantered about in polite company and secretly desired since the first day I was introduced to it. What am I blathering on about exactly? I, in my infinite 40 hour a week, old, fat, 9 credit taking, college student mothering life am taking MMA classes. Oh and shut up about it, cause its a secret.

Let me just run the tape back for you. 10 years ago I got heavily interested in mixed martial arts without the help of a boyfriend, my son or anyone else. Just me and Pride and UFC. I watched fights, and shows on fights, and then I recognized fighters in obscure paces, and sold property to amateur fighters wanting to start gyms. Then I came here and started writing about them. Then I got my kid watching, and my dad watching and suddenly the guys I dated watched it too. Then I would say to myself "I sure wish I could do that." Me! You know, crazy violent and particularly nutty, tends to take on too much, just got over a serious ankle issue that required 8 weeks of PT. That's me. Not wishing to be able to run again. Wishing to have an actual shot at being a female MMA fighter. Cut to about three months ago, when I my daily LivingSocial deal flashes across my phone. I was pumping gas, or eating something unhealthy or what the fuck ever it is that I do on a weekend that I don't have a paper due, and low and behold my prayers were answered. It was an offer, for a months worth of classes at the local MMA gym for $25! I didn't breathe, I didn't think I just pressed BUY and then I proceeded to chide myself for even thinking that this body with the extra 40lbs strapped to it and the wacky ankle would be able to do anything as kick ass as Brazilian 36.

I gotta say at that point I just tried to forget that I bought the damn thing. Maybe I would get up enough nerve to go before it expired, or maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I would go home and eat some more bread and gain 10 more lbs and drink another bottle of wine. You know, 40 year old shit, not 20 year old fuckshit like rolling around on the ground grappling with some other sweaty ass people half your age. Nawww I would just ride this one out till the expiration was gone. That was fine too, until one day I was at home, probably writing another godforsaken paper about Information Security or Information Technology, or Project Management in IT or IT ethics or some other fuckass topic that rules my entire existence when No Reservations came on  the TV. Now, if you know me you know that the only think I like more than watching showes about food is eating said food. So I settled into page three of five and hear hustled while I typed. Then it happened, Tony Bourdain started discussing Rio, and how it was so beautiful and how his wife wasn't there to soak up the sun or lay on the beach. Nope, she was there to have a good old fashioned BJJ match. So I watched this tiny Italian woman who was sickly conditioned, and sparing like a champ and I knew right then and there that if I didn't give this a try now, I never would and I would ALWAYS be sorry I didn't. So the very next we hopped our asses in the car and went over there to see whether or not two decidedly fat, close to middle aged old birds would be laughed out of a respectable MMA gym or potentially be killed in the process. I also determined that if I really wanted to do this, that I better not tell anyone. Not my worry wart momma or my neurotic ass boyfriend. Erica and I made a pact, and went in.

It was uncomfortable, I wont lie. Even though those boys were as nice as pie, we were still two old fat ladies asking about classes. Not only that but one of us is a huge UFC Stan who is trying desperately not to look like a 13 year old girl at a Bieber concert. Of course I thought, we will find out some shit, think about coming to class and leave. I was wrong, they made me sign a waiver and then told us that we should come for the BJJ Fundamentals class on Sunday. Why did I feel like everyone was laughing at me? So we left, her freaked out, me embarrassed and we said we would come back Sunday. Sunday started strange. We ate, showered and then I proceeded to put on every article of workout clothing I owned. I had NO idea what this situation entailed. The schedule didn't say what I was supposed to wear. How much was I gonna be on the floor? Does that mean shorts? I only own one set of sweatpants that I just bought the week prior. What the hell have I gotten myself into? I came out of my bedroom in the following. Shorts, sweatpants, underwear, sports bra, tank top, tank top, *that's right two tank tops* t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt. It was 500 degrees in that getup and I looked insane, so I figured I better scale it back.

After removing about 4 layers we left for class. 4 bottles of water? Check. We should be fine. We walk in and meet Topaz. He doesn't look nearly as young as the dudes we saw Saturday so we relaxed a little. We introduce ourselves and immediately we have to start jogging. This for me is comedy, because in 3 months the best I have been able to accomplish is attending PT and walking slightly faster than a senior citizen. Okay, so I guess I am jogging. Leg feels strong, I feel good so far. Now I am doing something called Shrimping. Basically I am using one leg to propel myself up the mat. Sure I am slow but I think I am doing it right. There are more warm ups, more jogging. I am beginning to question my sanity when he tells us to sit. Now we are on to ab work and by abs, I mean the place where I used to have muscle. Something tells me that I am not going to feel good later but then, I catch my breath and I start doing moves and Topaz teaches us posture, and side guard and I am understanding now. Everything I have been watching for better than 10 years is starting to connect in my brain and even though every muscle I own has determined that I am a horrible bitch for subjecting it to this class, I am happy and so is Erica. We watch closely every move, and when Topaz instructs we follow intently. Furthermore, we didn't die!

So, class one became class two (where even the apple, redbull, GU and coconut water I had didn't keep me from almost passing out during the boxing portion) and that was mad painful and I still cant raise my arms properly, I still went to class last night and even though I thought I was going to choke in the 15 push up circle, I managed not to embarrass my fat ass in front of a class of 20 somethings and you know what? I am hooked. The funny part is how patient these young dudes are with us. One was so eager to teach us submissions (when I was in the middle of my hypoglycemic attack) another wanted us to stay for a second class. Last night, a little bitty one was telling us how to score points in a tournament. Who tournament? Is he for real right now? Its funny but I honestly believe if I could go back tonight I would. If I were 10 years younger and could just spend all my time training I would dedicate myself to it fully and though I cant walk right now which is not shocking I feel like for the first time I am doing something I always wanted to do. No one has laughed at me, no one has told me that I cant do it, no body has tossed my lifeless body into the alley and though my everything hurts, my ankle does not and its fantastic. So after class 1 I told my kid, cause well he can hold water unlike other folks and he wont admonish me for the ankle thing. Not only that but he was very happy for me. He knows how much I love this stuff. So I will keep you posted. Maybe photos when I lose some weight at this rate it wont be long.

Oh and since I come here once in a blue moon, someone eloquently pointed out in the comments of my last post that as I was complaining about the writing in 50 Shades that I started the first four paragraphs with "so". First, this is a blog, its not a published book so don't think you are shading me by correcting my blog type grammar. I don't write this bitch for grades or book deals but thanks for your fuckass comment anon.