Wasn't there a movie about Lent? Or was that Lentle?

One of my friends just said to me today, "I saw on your blog that you are Protestant. Does that mean I'm Protestant, too?" She didn't know she was, but she is. Isn't that wonderful? I wish I didn't know that I was Protestant. That would give me more to think about.
Like Lent.
Today is the beginning of Lent, and I have given up alcohol. I'm really doing fine. I mean, other than the shaking and the cold sweat. Just kidding.
Besides the Lenting, and the tea drinking, I am also still in training for that half marathon.
It's hard work. For instance, today I walked two miles. It's gonna kill me, this training.
I'm really bad about the actual running. I whine, and avoid and do other things, and then I wonder why I am not doing better. In truth, I trained a lot today, just not with the running part. I rode a bike for about 15 mins. Walked briskly for half an hour. Worked a heavy bag for half an hour. Did weight training for 45 mins. I'm not really what you'd call a slacker. Except for the part where I was supposed to run 6 miles today, and I didn't.
I'm sure the race will be no big deal, since I'll be in fantastic shape. Right? I am running about 2 days a week. Sometimes.

I'm Protestant, a slacker, and female. Good thing I'm not single, eh? No one would have me.

The Zen of Humility

I mentioned to you that I have begun training again in the martial arts. There is something about beginning again, that I find both frustrating, and exceedingly challenging.
The sports that have appealed to me have always been those that require an internal challenge. I like the intensity of battling myself. Running is like that, so is weight training. Martial arts is that way, too. Team sports have never been my thing, perhaps I don't play so well with others.
My current intellectual battle is this struggle to un-learn. It's more difficult than learning something from scratch, because I need to work backwards a bit before I can go forward. Weird, huh? The conscious decision to empty myself, is far more difficult than the filling part.
Because I am in a new style, I have to go back to a very ridged, mechanical way of moving. Slow and deliberate is the only way to accurately program muscle memory. I keep finding that habit wants to o'er take me as I begin to move, and I feel less adept than the freshest white belt. I fight my prior programing with every series of movement.
This process forces me to focus with an internal intensity that is very much exhilarating. Love that.
The humility required is instructive, too. Unless I am willing to forget all I think I know, and subject myself to the teaching at this new school, I will not progress. There's a lesson in that. To humble myself is a choice. It requires an accurate assessment of my skills, and their relevance to my current situation. That is applicable to many other aspects of my life. And that alone is worth the price of admission.
I can be confident and teachable. At the same time.
I may know lots of things about this or that, but I know nothing about what you may teach me today. And for the opportunity of learning about you, I can set all else aside.
There is more yet to learn than what I may think I know.
Too many martial artists are convinced that they know it all. Too many human beings are convinced that they have no need to be taught.
Gosh, if only I can remember this valuable lesson, and apply it to all my relationships! I would be a much nicer person.

Kick it good

Who is a happy girl?
I am back to the study of martial arts, and I am so happy about it that I can hardly stand it.
My former dojo is carrying on well without me, though I miss some of them dreadfully, I do think I'll recover.
In fact, it's quite possible I'll thrive!
I'm going to explore a new style, which I expect to learn a great deal from. I asked around a bit, and found that this particular place has an exceedingly high reputation. So, I am back in action.
I've missed the martial arts so much. There is just something about it that gets in one's blood.
I am already learning things that are entirely new to me. I love to learn from dynamic instructors!

There is lots to tell you, but I was unable to get into my blog much of the day. I suppose that even a website like this is bound to have days that they don't function so well.

I need to give you my movie reviews from the Dark Knight, and also the new Mummy movie.
I need to tell you about the spontaneous dinner party last night, and the planned bar-b-que tonight.
Then, I'll run out of things to say and have to resort to the rambling I so often do.
But, for now, I need to get some Z's.
I'll blog tomorrow.

I Got It

I promised Pictures of the black belt ceremony. However, none of them really turned out. It's very sad. They all look like clusters of shadow.
But I did get it.
Thank you so much to you wonderful people for supporting me and cheering me on in this. I was surrounded by friends, and showered with gifts.
The ceremony itself was really pretty cool. Lots of folks received belt promotions; I was not the only one. However, I was the only one to receive the Black. My instructors had me kneel, and they displayed this beautiful satin sash embroidered with my name in pink. Then, they gathered around me and prayed for me. I love my martial arts people.
So, there you have it.
Now I need a new goal.

Moving is Hard....

...Very hard.
I am not refering to the kind of moving that involves boxes, and packing, and a new residence.
I am, instead, talking about the kind of moving that involves lifting the coffee to my lips. Or holding myself erect.
There are bruises and sore muscles just everywhere.
Fighting for half an hour was a fearful thing to do. The actually test was extremely taxing. Defending against a knife attack was a challenge. But the thing that most frightened me most was the pushups. Did I tell you this? My almost-40-year-old-tendinitis-ridden elbow had to do 70 pushups. I prayed about this part. And you know what? I did 'em. All of them. And my elbow didn't hurt at all. It still doesn't. I am willing to accept that as a particular miracle from a Loving God.
Monday night is the award ceremony. I shall receive my belt, and I solomnly swear that I shall post photos on this blog!
I am a Black Belt.

Punching Kelly

Well, Well, Well

You should have seen all the people who were lined up to take a swing at me. The Head Instructor commented several times that he hadn't had a turn-out like that in a long time. Should I be honored? Concerned?

I was resigned to do this fight last night. I had this sort of intestinal twisting that belied my nerves, though I didn't exactly feel nervous. It's just unplesant, this sort of fighting. So, I resigned myself to do it.

It was far better than anticipated, as these things usually are. I chose to make it mostly a ground fight, because of two things. One, I am lazy. And Two, My legs are both stronger and longer than my arms.


.....................May I just tell you that I had a brilliant finish to this article, and blogger didn't save it? I went to publish, and got an error page, and the whole bottom half was just gone!! Very annoying.
The bottom line is that I survived, and am going to test this morning. I have to attain a 100% on this morning's portion of the test. If I manage to accomplish that, I win a Balck Belt.
I'll get back to you in a bit!
Have a wonderful morning, friends.

Weeping in anticipation

The main portion of my anticipated Black Belt Test has been postponed yet again. Tomorrow morning is the bulk of it. Tonight, however, is the fight.

This is not the kind of fight where I fight back, displaying my glorious Laura Croft fight skills. You know what I mean: long hair braided becomingly, makeup just so, catsuit accentuating my figure to best advantage. No, sir.
This is a lot more like a test of endurance mixed up with a hearty dose of humility.
This is where I try to keep myself from physical injury for 30 minutes of stunning exhaustion.
I begin with a series of one on one fights, a new opponent every two minutes. Then we switch to two on one fights, with me being the one part. Fresh opponents every two minutes. Then it gets brutal, 3 on 1, then 4 on 1, just to make sure I get the enthusiasm thoroughly kicked out of me. Now, I can run for 30 minutes just fine. Ok, I complain as I do it, but that's only because I am regulating my pace by talking as I run, to ensure that I don't over-do it.
Fighting for 30 minutes is more like sprinting uphill for 30 minutes with a ten pound weight held in each hand. And both hands held over one's head. It's like that, only it hurts more.
The good news is that really serious injuries are rare. The last time the ambulance came, it was only a broken collarbone. Who really uses their collarbone, anyway?
But it's undignified, this sort of fight. I will sweat and cry, and struggle to breathe, and try hard not to vomit from overexertion. It's rather like giving birth.
So, Kara thought it would be fun to invite all the folks that I know in the whole world to this event. I think she may be selling popcorn. Whoo- Hoo! Let's watch Kelly suffer!
I will have on no makeup, my hair will be a mess, I'll be red faced and sweaty...there is no question of accessories at a time like this! Honestly! Would you invite all your friends to watch you give birth?
oh, wait...I did do that.
But this is worse!
These people who claim to love me are coming to be entertained by my pain and humiliation. They're like the Romans calling for more lions.
"Et tu, Brute?"
At least they'll be there to drive me to the hospital.
But don't worry, I'm sure I'll be fine.

All before Noon....

I woke up this morning all excited about my Black Belt Test.
The day rapidly fell to shattered bits.
The boys were planning to go hunting for some mangy creature with their Grandpa. Coyotes, I think.
So, they were running around the house in camo clothes leaving a trail of distraction in their wake. Cereal and milk on the table, discarded clothes on the living room floor. And a puddle the size of Lake Michigan in the bathroom. The good news was that Nobody did it. Not a single person was responsible.
And the puppy was sick. Not a mild sick. Sort of a squealing-quivering-I'm -in-pain kind of sick. And there was excrement involved. Lots of excrement.
Mostly this was inhibiting my peaceful stretching and meditative last minute cramming for the test. I was rapidly growing annoyed.
My youngest ended up in tears, largely because of the pitiful sounds emanating from the puppy, but also largely resulting from the increasing frustration from his otherwise loving Mother. I was somewhat put upon, as you can perhaps imagine.
The fact that this dog was needing medical intervention was increasingly apparent. So, add financial concerns to my growing list of stress. Grandpa showed up to collect the boys for hunting right about the time I got off the phone with the 3rd animal hospital. This one could squeeze us in if we could get there right about 30 minutes before the start of my black belt test. And gosh, they sure hoped that this wasn't the worst case scenario, which would run me round about a thousand dollars. How thoughtful of them to be concerned.
So I cancelled the test. Mine, not the puppy's.
M' got to go hunting with his grandpa, and D' had to carry the puppy off to the money-grabbers. I mean, the Vet.
The greatest service rendered was that they traumatized that poor little fluff so she'll sleep off her pain. There were shots involved, and rectal thermometers, and a rather costly ointment.
I figure it cost me one third the price of the couch I want. Or the price of one really cute new outfit at the mall. Or the price of a U-Haul for a weekend. It was money I hated to spend.
It also cost me the test today.
But all is not lost.
My gracious Sifu is going to allow me to test on Monday. So, now that the puppy is sleeping, and I am peacefully blogging.
It could have been worse. Right?