Some Few Bruises
After Jaertes talked me into joining him at Jujitsu tonight, I went with a little trepidation. After all, for all that I’m relatively capable, I’m not exactly in great shape, or particularly resilient. I’ve kinda always been the lightweight pretty guy.
And, true to my expectations, I’ve been battered and bumped and bruised all over the place – most of which was self inflicted. Teaching oneself to dive at the ground and then smack it to lessen the impact is so shockingly counterintuitive that the first part of learning is the process is merely getting to the point where throwing yourself at the mats makes enough sense that trying whatever move it is becomes feasable.
Ugh.
I’m going to go soak in icewater or something. Later.
Jujitsu? I’m impressed. My bruises and your bruises should have coffee sometime. (But, y’know, mine are from a mosh pit, so they must be more badass.)
Mine are from tossing my flatmate around and diving at the floor. All you did is jump up and down and throw a shoulder in every now and again. You earned yours in a cooler circumstance, no denying, but I win for badass-ness.
I was at a metal show. They’re less from jumping and more from getting pounded the shit out of.
But hey, sure DO wish I had a flatmate I could throw around.
Yeah, well. I still have my doubts, but we’ll just run with this one for now.
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