Really. I did!
You see, Saturday I went to sparring class at the dojo. The usual line-up of ruffians was there. Nothing terribly interesting, just the regular sparring goodness that is Saturday's class.
In preparation for tournament in a few weeks, Sensei had us all judging the point sparring. I think he gets sick of people complaining that “I totally hit him under the guard!” when the instructor can't actually see on that side. So he made us try it out. I've done it a few times, but it doesn't really get easier. And I usually wait for a good shot, not the trading blows like kids in a girl fight.
So anyway, that was fun. I judged first, and ended up being the last one that needed to spar. Normally that means I get to pick my poison. Yay!
But that didn't happen yesterday. Oh no, Sensei takes off his huge, expensive watch, hands it to one of the other students, motions me out and says, “Who wants to judge?”
“What?” I said, staring dumfound. He's way faster than I am, and a second degree, and the grin on his face tells me he's about to have me for lunch.
What have I done??? I thought, getting on guard and knowing that any of my next breaths might be my last. I offered to just stand there and let him hit me a lot, but he was having none of it.
So we fought. I think I may have put forth a “valiant effort”, and even scored a point or two (pretty sure those were pity calls), but my life did flash before my eyes when I got him in the, er, almost face...and nicked his glasses.
Sorry! I pulled it, I promise. So he took off the glasses and we went again. This time I almost got him in the, er, nether regions.
Oh don't panic, there was no contact, but the girl judging almost had kittens. “You hit Sensei in the groin!”
Uh, no, I did not. You see, I'd be dead if that were the case. And I'm still alive (I think) so that didn't happen.
Pretty sure ninja wannabe lost three years off her life. Playing with the big boys is stressful! And I get hit a lot.