Ouch. That's really all I have to say. Well, that's not entirely true. I have a few other choice words to say, but I'll spare the blog readers. I don't usually indulge in “colorful metaphors” . . . at least not where anyone can hear me.
I wasn't planning to go to Kempo class today. I was supposed to go to Lagoon with some good friends. Well, the rain this morning squashed that idea like a bug on a windshield. The car has to be moving, of course, for the whole bug thing to work. Drat, distracted. Where was I? Oh yes, Kempo class.
Saturdays are usually sparring class. I don't love sparring, but sometimes it's way fun, and goodness knows I need the practice. So when the Lagoon plans fell through (drated weather) I decided I would go to class. Get some practice, maybe get a workout, maybe even have some fun.
Because I'm hurt, I will now whine. Starting out with serious lunges (with no warm up before that) was not nice. By the end of those my legs were burning (which is okay) and my knees were mad. Not furious, just mad.
The rest of class went okay. We finally got to sparring and I was almost the last person to get to spar. We were doing point sparring, which means whoever gets their opponent first, within the point parameters, gets a point, the match stops and then starts again for the next point.
My opponent, who has a good foot on me, but I'm old enough to be his mother, and I exchanged a few kicks which were blocked. Then we got serious . . . at exactly the same time. He brought his knee up to kick and so did I. He was quicker and got his foot out before I did.
That's when I brilliantly blocked his kick with my patella.
Not one of my better moments. It wasn't a plan, it just happened.
I felt my kneecap get jammed into all of the tissue that sits behind it and grind in there. We both jumped back. Apparently my knee cap is pretty hard, which makes me feel a tiny bit better. I turned around, jumping up and down, saying “ouch” out loud. In my mind I was saying some much nastier things.
Sensei was laughing and going on about a shin-shot (those really suck), but I managed to stammer that it was my knee and that I was done.
I don't think I've ever not finished a sparring match before. I've had to take a minute to recover from a few kicks and my contacts getting stuck on a glove or two, but I've never stepped out. It sucked.
What's even more fun? A swollen knee that is not happy about anything and 15 steps going up to my apartment. There goes Ninja's week.
Anyone want to bring the pumpkin I have in my car up the stairs for me so I can carve it tomorrow?
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