Just a few weeks.

A long time ago, I was involved in a Tae Kwon Do studio that used full contact sparring to train. You’d wear pads on your hands and feet and throw a mouth guard in. The point was to condition you to what it felt like to take a punch. What’s the use of unrealistic training that leaves you curled up in a ball the first time somebody get’s lucky or sneaky?

Anyway, I tested for my green belt which included forms (formalized moves in a specific sequence) and sparring. During the sparring I was paired against a guy who was testing for his red belt (two ranks higher than me, I think). I was not doing badly, keeping my head moving, throwing combinations when I could find an opening, when I took the hardest strike I have ever endured to my head. My vision rapidly narrowed to a point (think of a quarter held at arms length as the aperture) and I had the oddest feeling that my torso was extending into space far in front of my hips and legs. I churned my legs to keep them under me, my visual scope swept the small assemblage (my dad and Kwik were there). This must have only taken a second or two, but I still remember it vividly; it was a unique experience. The ref grabbed my gloves and steadied me. He asked if I wanted to continue; of course I said yes. I stuck to a somewhat groggy defensive strategy for the remainder of my time, but stayed up and earned the belt. I learned later that my opponent had snuck a kick up and tagged me in the side of the head.

For the last nine months or so, I have felt somewhat like that moment, just after the kick connected. I have been myopic, confused and pained. I have been churning my legs, trying to keep them under me.

I won’t use (self imposed) banned phrases like ‘looking into the abyss’ or singing big-hair ballads about how ‘I can take the pai-ai-ai-ain!’ I will admit that I never anticipated the duration and severity of this. I can be creative, but my imagination failed me here. I acknowledge it is unlike my normal manly lumberjacky self to admit to near-daily crying jags, but there you go. Going to work every weekday is an escape. Waking up every weekend morning is a grim exertion. Time spent with friends is a high-purity distraction.

My apologies for the self-pitying tone of this post. I’m sure to read this some time in the future and wrinkle my nose at my lack of stoicism, or my inability to keep my legs under me through this.

Lisa moves out July 8th. Then Wacky Road Trip IV a few weeks after that. It’s funny (not 3XHAR funny, but peculiar) but I don’t have any emotion whatsoever elicited by either upcoming event. Currently though, my moods radically change very rapidly, which I also apologize for. When my mood is in an up-tick, I see WRTIV as a cathartic event, a breaking away and a returning to a New 3XHAR Order. So I’m keeping my feelers out for the next up-tick.