This thread will have no merit. I'm bored, waiting on phone calls necessary for me to continue working today.
So on Friday nights I sometimes meet up with my mentor to get some drilling and light rolling done before the weekend. He got his black belt a little under a year ago, and frequently point out flaws or holes in my game. His advice is always invaluable. His technique is impeccable, and I can't get over how lucky I am that I get one on one time with him *preen*.
This Friday he showed me a collar choke that is so badass that I'll probably post a video of it in my training log so that I don't forget the details.
We warmed up in our typical manner. He chained together six or seven techniques with no resistance from me, focusing on clean technique and smoothness. Then it was my turn. This type of drilling has improved both our games, although I admittedly have quite a bit more room for improvement.
So, after brutalizing his neck in my clumsy attempts to learn this choke, we did some light rolling, emphasis on light. He's had two serious neck surgeries, and I'm a mass of injuries poorly disguised as a human right now.
It was the most productive session I've had for months, and, more importantly, I didn't get hurt.
I drove home feeling better than I had in quite awhile. Once home I was greeted by a quartet ofhellions kids, jacked up on sugar and mob mentality. The neighbors had brought their kids over for dinner as is customary on weekends.
Thinking quickly, I dumped my gym bag into the garage. Then, after a quick shower, I assumed my role as a human trampoline for the children. I do this to make up for my earlier absence, to give the other adults a break and to earn that frosty beer.
All thoughts of my poor gi trapped in my gym bag fled in the ensuing melange of kid's parties and weekend chores until Monday morning, when I opened the garage to load my truck.
"Oh damn", I thought, "I did it again." Thank goodness for Borax because if there's one thing I dislike, it's a gi that still smells after it's been through the wash.
So on Friday nights I sometimes meet up with my mentor to get some drilling and light rolling done before the weekend. He got his black belt a little under a year ago, and frequently point out flaws or holes in my game. His advice is always invaluable. His technique is impeccable, and I can't get over how lucky I am that I get one on one time with him *preen*.
This Friday he showed me a collar choke that is so badass that I'll probably post a video of it in my training log so that I don't forget the details.
We warmed up in our typical manner. He chained together six or seven techniques with no resistance from me, focusing on clean technique and smoothness. Then it was my turn. This type of drilling has improved both our games, although I admittedly have quite a bit more room for improvement.
So, after brutalizing his neck in my clumsy attempts to learn this choke, we did some light rolling, emphasis on light. He's had two serious neck surgeries, and I'm a mass of injuries poorly disguised as a human right now.
It was the most productive session I've had for months, and, more importantly, I didn't get hurt.
I drove home feeling better than I had in quite awhile. Once home I was greeted by a quartet of
Thinking quickly, I dumped my gym bag into the garage. Then, after a quick shower, I assumed my role as a human trampoline for the children. I do this to make up for my earlier absence, to give the other adults a break and to earn that frosty beer.
All thoughts of my poor gi trapped in my gym bag fled in the ensuing melange of kid's parties and weekend chores until Monday morning, when I opened the garage to load my truck.
"Oh damn", I thought, "I did it again." Thank goodness for Borax because if there's one thing I dislike, it's a gi that still smells after it's been through the wash.
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