(no subject)
I was reading old karate posts.
I got to the quote halfway through that post and stopped dead.
I don't remember him saying that to me.
Now it's lost as to whether it was his words or my knowing. I wouldn't be surprised at either.
I have forgotten most of the things that they said to me at karate. For people who knew me through that time, it is probably surprising. I remember the most mundane conversations, and for years, that was my life. I had to let much of that slip whenever I left- every day I would regret my own failure; every day, I would go back.
Some would call it weakness. Aye, perhaps. But I was tied too strongly to that place, to that idea, to have the motivation to leave it.
If I didn't remember the agony (and there is no other word for it) of that time, I would be surprised that I managed to.
It seems like a different life now. It makes it easier to live with but harder to turn back to. I will go back, and Sensei C. will look me in the eyes, and he will not recognise what he sees.
Or hopefully he will. Perhaps he will see what I built my life into and what strengths I chose to do it.
I believe I can say he knew me well enough for that.
Sometimes I judge myself too harshly.
Do you know- I can do pushups now.
During karate, I had worked myself to the point before where I was not physically able to do them. It was not lack of strength, not in immediate fashion. That was the second thing that I was put off of, second only to sparring. It is only logical, when I could only lower myself about halfway down- to that strain where the backs of your shoulders tighten together- and both of my shoulders would dislocate.
I put such heavy, constant demand on the small muscles' nearly impossible job that there simply was no helping it. As a result, I ought not have full range of movement- I'm amazed that I do.
I could do pushups to keep up with the men, until I drove my body into ruin. For the first time in over two years, I can do them again. Not so well as to keep up with the guys- but just to be able to do them.
I can tighten pecs and not loose the bone from its non-existant socket; I can carry loads, climb, carry my weight on my hands.
Given the stage that I had reached, I shouldn't be able to do this today.
I can go through a day without being in a considerable amount of pain.
Even though I always will, I should not be able to regret karate. Not like this.
I got to the quote halfway through that post and stopped dead.
I don't remember him saying that to me.
Now it's lost as to whether it was his words or my knowing. I wouldn't be surprised at either.
I have forgotten most of the things that they said to me at karate. For people who knew me through that time, it is probably surprising. I remember the most mundane conversations, and for years, that was my life. I had to let much of that slip whenever I left- every day I would regret my own failure; every day, I would go back.
Some would call it weakness. Aye, perhaps. But I was tied too strongly to that place, to that idea, to have the motivation to leave it.
If I didn't remember the agony (and there is no other word for it) of that time, I would be surprised that I managed to.
It seems like a different life now. It makes it easier to live with but harder to turn back to. I will go back, and Sensei C. will look me in the eyes, and he will not recognise what he sees.
Or hopefully he will. Perhaps he will see what I built my life into and what strengths I chose to do it.
I believe I can say he knew me well enough for that.
Sometimes I judge myself too harshly.
Do you know- I can do pushups now.
During karate, I had worked myself to the point before where I was not physically able to do them. It was not lack of strength, not in immediate fashion. That was the second thing that I was put off of, second only to sparring. It is only logical, when I could only lower myself about halfway down- to that strain where the backs of your shoulders tighten together- and both of my shoulders would dislocate.
I put such heavy, constant demand on the small muscles' nearly impossible job that there simply was no helping it. As a result, I ought not have full range of movement- I'm amazed that I do.
I could do pushups to keep up with the men, until I drove my body into ruin. For the first time in over two years, I can do them again. Not so well as to keep up with the guys- but just to be able to do them.
I can tighten pecs and not loose the bone from its non-existant socket; I can carry loads, climb, carry my weight on my hands.
Given the stage that I had reached, I shouldn't be able to do this today.
I can go through a day without being in a considerable amount of pain.
Even though I always will, I should not be able to regret karate. Not like this.