epiphany

Sanda-daism: or A Glutton for Punishment

I picked up a guitar case and a capo on Friday afternoon. Now that I'm set to take my guitar with me to America, I need to figure out how much it would cost to have it as an extra piece of luggage on NW. If it's too pricey, I'll probably ship a suitcase home.

Beyond that, I went to sanda two nights in a row, Friday and Saturday. I am very sore. On Wednesday night, the teacher was sick (at least I think that's what the other students told me when I arrived. They definitely indicated that I should leave). When I came back on Friday, the main teacher was working with several of the advanced students, who have a match today. So I got lots of personal attention from Shu Li, a new younger teacher, who I'm going to call the "mini-boss" in a tribute to the video games of my youth.

The Mini-Boss is very fit and strong. He also speaks a decent amount of English, which is quite helpful for me. He started me out hold pads for another student to punch and kick. That was going ok, but then he made us switch. I'm not terribly coordinated, so it wasn't working too well. After hurting myself several times in the same way and not getting my leg straight enough during my kick, the Mini-Boss sent me back to the punching bag, which I appreciated. I was tired of hurting my toes because of my poor aim.

He then told me that I had to kick the bag one hundred times with each leg. I started doing it while he went to work with some of the other students. But soon he was back, telling me that I needed to make my leg straighter. "Where is your power?" he kept asking.

I wanted to say, "I don't have any!"

He tried showing me what to do and explained a little bit more of how to do it. I understood the concepts but was having trouble putting them into action. After quite a while, I finally started getting it. He went to work with the other students, and I kept kicking the bag.

A little while later he came back and still didn't seem too pleased. "Faster," he said. I was having trouble going faster because the bag was swinging too much for me to aim. The Mini-Boss decided to hold the bag and give commentary on the validity of my kicks.

BAM! I kicked the bag. "Good," he said. BAM! I hit it again. "Faster!" BAM! BAM! "Faster!" BAM! Bam! Bam.

"Where is your power!?!"

Again, I wanted to say, "I can give you one or the other. Both power and speed are not an option at this point!" But I actually said, "I'm trying!"

After I completed the one hundred kicks per leg, the Mini-Boss told me that my left leg was much stronger than my right leg. I've always felt that my left arm is much stronger than my right arm (despite being right-handed), so that didn't come as much of a surprise.

Then he pulled out one of the many session-end torture exercises. We unhappy few had to do a kind of frog jump across the length of the mats several times. The Mini-Boss did them with us, demonstrating his remarkable skill and physique. I came in last (out of the three of us who did them)--way, way last. At the end, the Mini-Boss came down the mat and tried to correct my poor jumping skills. "Don't use your hands. All the way down when you jump!" It was miserable.

Toward the end of the evening (before the torture session, I think), the Mini-Boss came back to me and said something in Chinese. When he asked if I understood, I said no. (I'd picked up the words "no," "middle" and one or two others.) He then said that it was a saying that basically meant doing something one time won't help you become strong. I think it was his way of saying that I needed to come to class more often.

Earlier that night Charlie asked me, "Why are you studying sanda?"

At the end of the session I would have told him that I really didn't know. I was exhausted and would probably die on the way to my bus. At the time, though, I said, "I think it's a good way to exercise."

He asked me why I didn't exercise some other way, so I told him that by having a class to come to, I'm more likely to actually go. If I didn't have a class, I would think that I could come any time, but then I would never end up coming. I asked him why he's taking sanda.

"Kids at school hit me," he said, "but I can't hit them back. If they didn't hit me, I wouldn't be here." He paused, and I felt really bad for him. Apparently he found the idea he was looking for and added, "I am studying sanda for justice."

Why do bullies always pick on the nice, intelligent kids? But the bullies had better start watching out. Charlie's arms may not be too strong, but from what I've seen, his kicks are getting pretty nasty.

Anyway, I spent most of Saturday downtown with friends but because of the Mini-Boss's urging decided to come to class again that evening. He taught several of us a new side kick. We had to stand near the windows, tip over (holding onto the window ledge, of course) and kick straight out. He checked to see if our legs were straight enough and high enough and then had us repeat the move, pausing with our legs out, whenever he clapped. One of the other guys who has complained that I shouldn't be kicking the bags because I don't have the form quite right yet said that his leg was hurting from holding it up. The Mini-Boss said, "That's right! It should hurt!" He then made us hold the kicking position for a minute before giving us a rest. After a short break (which involved having to kick one of the bags with our new technique), he made us do the one minute hold again.

After a while of doing the hold-kick and practicing with the bags, the Mini-Boss had us line up down the mat and practice the new kick while watching ourselves in the big mirror. Every time he clapped his hands, we had to do our kick as quickly as possible. I discovered that if you do the kick correctly, it doesn't hurt. If you don't do it right, it feels like several muscles are going to detach at the ends. Unfortunately, I did it wrong quite often and was in a significant amount of pain. I slowed down my kicks, reestablishing the form, and was able to speed up again as he started clapping two or three times in a row.

Later in the evening he had me back on the bag for the previous night's style of kicking. This time I had to do it only 50 times per leg. He held the bag again and gave commentary. "Faster!" "More power!" "Faster!!!" This time, however, I had a bit of a break because Luke was there, and the Mini-Boss didn't seem too impressed with his kicks either. So I would do a set, and then Luke would have to do a set. Interestingly, Luke's right leg seems to be stronger and maintain a better form than his left leg. His left leg seems to work about the same as my right leg. (Luke was also the one who translated the other student's complaint and the Mini-Boss's answer.)

For Saturday night's torture, the Mini-Boss had us line up down the middle of the mat and do pushups with long holds in between. The pushup part wasn't too difficult for me--I was actually a lot quicker than the other guys. But the holds were agony, not on my arms, but on my lower back and stomach. Toward the end of that, I honestly thought I was going to throw up. The Mini-Boss kept fussing at me for going to my knees, so I tried to explain to him the problem. "You need to make it stronger," he said.

Yes, there are a lot of things I need to make stronger. I don't know how strong I'll make any of them in three weeks, but I am hoping to keep going to class more often during my last few days here. The sessions with the Mini-Boss are a little shorter than the ones with the main teacher, but they've been much more difficult and a much better workout. It's almost like having a personal trainer.

Posted by at May 23, 2004 9:16 AM