"Train, Train, Go Away"

Whenever I first wake up, I never want to train. On the border of sleep and awake getting out of bed seems quite unappealing if not totally impossible. Of course once I'm up for ten minutes then I'm fine. But today, waking up after a night out to a gray rainy day, I decided to roll over, snuggle deeper into my comforter, and snooze until noon.

WHAT? "Now way. I have taken two days off because I felt a little under the weather, but I was getting my lazy ass out of bed and training no matter what. I threw myself out of bed, and in under fifteen minutes, cooked and ate breakfast, got dressed, got my bag together, brushed my teeth and ran out the door.

I can't train tomorrow, which means that Monday would be 4 days since my last class. That's less frequent training than when I was working full time. We simply can't have that. Class was very humid, and the last vestiges of my cold left me feeling woozy and lethargic, but it was a fun class and by the end I felt stronger than at the beginning. After all that bitching and moaning my Shaolin whatever sword was tight but not excessively troublesome and my shinsplints took a brief respite. Then, instead of booking it home to curl back in bed I stayed for a really great Buddhism class then helped do some storage reorganization with the demo team practicing in the background. It was a good reminder how many different kinds of training I get when I walk into temple: physical training, mental training, spiritual training, community training, and inspirational training watching those I admire. Those are the things that I need to remember to make the next hauling out of bed a little less melodramatic.

The (Over)Thinker

Last night, according to Qbertplaya, I developed the infamous Shaolin Butt Sword. I don't know about that, it's not near by butt, but down in my inner and lower hamstring. But the symptoms she says are identical. It all started with my first Level 2 class and a strain on my hamstring from lots of pubu chuanzangs. It's been there but sort of gradually losing intensity over the past week. Last night, it was not being my friend, but I was still trucking through it when during a yangshen yunshou my leg just totally freaked out on me, sort of seizing up and yet over stretching at the same time. I must learn to pivot!!! In the meantime I almost crashed to the floor, but managed to limp back into line wondering if I should take a moment off to assess the damage. Coupled with some serious shinsplints (a result of trying to correct both my take-off and landing in jumps, consequently I haven't yet managed to successfully do both at the same time) I felt a little as though continuing might be taking "training harder" a step too far.


Which leads to my thought for today: Is there such a thing as training too hard? We know that pushing yourself into an injury is bad, but sometimes I worry I'm just mentally giving in to a pain I'm having. Last night I did keep going in spite of all my bodily objections, and except for avoiding right sided pubus, and wincing a bit during right sided kicks, I managed fine. Is this good or bad? I'm an over-thinker. I know that. I waste more energy thinking about something than just doing it. When I start class I try to get that out of my head, but generally my brain still runs a mile a minute impeding my ability to "just do it." How do you switch that off? And if you do, is that bad because you won't stop to consider pausing for an injury? Here I am again, thinking about it too much instead of just icing my leg and moving forward. If I stopped thinking I bet I could fix my jumps easier too. I know this all comes down to knowing your body and kung fu being action meditation where you're supposed to clear your mind, but I wish I had a switch to just turn my brain off and relax. Actually while we're wishing for things I wish I had a switch to turn off the ache in my Shaolin Lower-inner-hamstring Sword. Actually, while we're wishing for things..... did I mention I think too much?

"Double your pleasure, double your fun!"

Today was a hallmark in my training journey. For many reasons, but it started off with training two classes.

Yes, two. Something I had once spoken of jokingly to Level 2 students long ago has recently becoming a more plausible concept to me. And as I'm currently work free, was three days off the training wagon recuperating my legs, and had Heng De singing the benefits of double training, I decided to make today the day.

Level 1 was officially the smallest class I've ever attended. TEN people. And for the first time ever I was the most advanced student in the class. It was a sort of awesome and yet frightening feeling. It was an excellent but very tiring class with so few students. It was not what I would have chosen for the class to precede what was going to be only my third L2 class.

big lunch and a bit of a nap later.....

I rolled myself into class tonight feeling groggy, but more from having napped in the middle of the day than muscle tiredness. I warmed up light because my body was still surprisingly flexible in spite of having taken a nap, and even though I was feeling normal I felt compelled to save every ounce of energy for class.

It was remarkable. It was far and away easier than my last two L2 experiences. Or, not easier exactly, but my chi didn't abandon me midway. It kept on going right up to the end, even through the arduousness of learning a new move (my first new L2 move!!!) and doing sweeps and five kicks till the end of class.

Tired? yes. A little sore? Yes. Going to sleep very well tonight? Yes. Dead and never want to train again? No! I feel outstanding, and while I may not make it a regular occurrence (I really couldn't do anything else with my day between classes but eat and nap) I'm definitely glad I did it and look forward to doing it again. Apparently chi isn't something you use up, but something that builds and expands upon itself, so that the more you train the more chi you actually have. This is a very scientific theory rooted in physics and elaborate math equations, I know, but whatever. I'm just glad it happened because after the grueling mental and physical mess of Thursday, I needed the resurgence of the chi. So now I know, next time I'm feeling flat, don't take the day off, double it up!

Notes from the D.L.

Man, it has been a while since the last time I posted here. Most of you have heard by now that during the last class I attended on September 29th, I twisted my knee doing a sweep kick in erluquan. It happened towards the end of class, and I had been feeling the chi, mostly because my parents showed up to watch class. I guess I was trying extra hard to show off or something.

I was kind of an emotional wreck the next few days. At first, I was soooo disappointed -- I had just finished learning erluquan, and I was all geared up to test for it the following weekend. I was eager to show Shifu all my hard work.

When a visit to the orthopaedist for x-rays and an MRI suggested that I might be dealing with a torn something-or-other, I went from disappointed to scared. Not only was I dreading the prospects of surgery, but I faced a possible recovery time of 8-10 months before I could even think about returning to kung fu. Yikes!

Happily, the results of the MRI a week later showed that nothing was torn; I had sustained a major sprain to a knee I've hurt before years ago from basketball. So, thankfully, I am looking at a shorter recovery time and have dodged the surgery bullet.

I am going to physical therapy twice a week, and every time I go, they give me more and more little exercises to strengthen my inner quadricep muscle to stabilize my kneecap in its groove. While those exercises may pale in comparison to what we accomplish at Temple, part of my training now is to recognize that this too is part of training. And it's working; every day I do feel a little stronger.

So what now? People have asked how long will it be before I train again, and it's a beautiful thing to know that so many friends are rooting for your speedy recovery. At first, I said to them, "Oh, hopefully a month and a half, two months at most." But ever since I started physical therapy last week, I have decided merely to say, "We'll see. I'm taking it day by day."

A knee injury is nothing to sneeze at! I will be sure to take however long I need to ensure a full recovery, and to be dilligent about doing my exercises. And while I miss the thrill of pushing my body to the max and seeing all of my fellow dorks, I need to exercise patience training, which can be most difficult. I need to do what's right for Qbertplaya and her busted knee, so that when she comes back, she will be ready to attack (if even only from the side line)!

The hair (that ain't) up there

Ever since the loveliness of shaving my head people have asked how it feels to train with it. I haven't been able to come up with a really definitive answer other than "sweaty." Without my lovely locks (short though they were) to hold in the sweat, I find it coming down my face a la a Gatorade commercial. Only it isn't red or yellow or blue. Not yet.

What this results in is a lot of wiping my face. Not biggie, except I fidget enough as it is, and there really aren't many dry spots on my uniform by the end of class. But tonight I encountered one unexpected and bizarre Shaolin injury. I looked in the mirror when I got home tonight and my nose was bright red. I had rubbed it so much I had chapped it! Ow!

Of course, shaved has its benefits too: no worries about how to strap it back for training, no muss no fuss in the mornings, lots of compliments from strangers. And it feels great. So now that it's gotten juuuuust long enough to warrant a little shampoo again, (yes I was still washing my head just not with shampoo) I have to make a decision about letting it grow out or keeping it short. Keep it short I have to learn to leave my nose alone. Grow it long, it's back to brushes and blow dryers... Ah the many unexpected decisions of Shaolin...


P.S. My legs hurt... :P

-Funny title here- too sore to think...

Heng Mo and I were joking that there is a sadist/masochist mentality at work in training. Our teachers like hurting us and we like letting them :) Of course, that's not true; it's not about hurting, it's about pushing ourselves. There is beautiful pain and then there is just injury, and it's important to recognize the difference.


With the advent of Level 2 and being work-free I basically have the opportunity to train every class all week. But while that would be a chi-tastic way to push myself, I don't want to hurt myself either. It's hard to reign in the enthusiasm, in favor of sensible pacing of oneself. Level 2 has left me with all sorts of beautiful new soreness and while I did train Level 1 last night, I'm resisting the urge to train it again this morning before L2 tonight. I know that I have to give my body some time to heal itself and to adjust to the new rigors of every day training; you can't just go from running one mile a day to running ten. I want to push through pain, and work out soreness, but I don't want my shinsplints to develop into crippling pain that prevents me from training at all. So I'm pacing myself, trying to harness my tendency to over-exert, so that I'm always making myself stronger. Besides, I hear (though I think it's an urban legend) that there are other things to do in New York besides train all the time.....

Level 1.5

So last night all but one of the new Level 2-ers turned out for our first orange training session. It was exciting, after hearing about how small those classes can be, to see a solid 21 people line up. It was very October-y with all that orange.

I was thinking, well this first class can't be as scary as your first day ever training, because at least now you know some stuff, and at least you aren't alone in your newbie-ness. Right? .... Ok, scary, no. Different, yes. Hard, double yes. Soreness inducing, very much yes. I don't know why, us first timers didn't do any new moves, maybe it was the result of being tense the entire two hours, but at the end I felt wiped like I did when I first stared training. Not to say we didn't learn anything new. We learned quite a bit about what needs fixing on all of our basics. There's so much there to work on, that watching the older Level 2 folks whipping out forms I felt more like Level 1.5. In a good way. I felt excited about the whole new world of things I had to learn and about the hard work still do do before I could get there. Definitely not going to let up on Level 1 training. Have to work on my caijiao...... Here's my inspiration....

So that I don't look like this:


(j/k, she's just sad because she broke her uniform...)

Train harder!

Been a little while since there was a post, but that's not to suggest any of the dorks haven't been training harder, quite the opposite. And now that testing and all is over, it just means it's time to train even harder. New Level 2-ers have a whole new world of beautiful pain in store; our injured, or otherwise incapacitated amigos will be hitting the physical therapy/alternative training hard; and those who got their very first, shiny, certificates now get to tackle their next form. Congratulations to everyone who tested, and to everyone who was there with us in spirit! Amituofo!

Being a Dork and Social Networking Sites

I would like to add to this post - You know you are a Kung Fu Dork when...

When you join Social Networking Sites (particularly Facebook) to view the pictures, stories, etc your friends talked about while you were eating.

And now I can't stop meddling with it. Can I blame it on being a dork?

Perpetual Motion

Lately I've been learning the value of momentum. I know that when you're kicking, doing moves, you should use your muscles and not rely on momentum to carry you through. That's not the kind I mean. I'm talking about the benefit of not slowing down. Take back stretch, at the end of class what I'd love to do is just lie there on my stomach, but if I keep going, I make it to the end. Whenever I lose my rhythm or stop, even for a split second, it becomes a 100 times harder. Or when we do jumps. If I just keep running and jumping and keeping that flow of chi going, it's actually much easier than when we have that much longed for, but ill-advised few moments to stand and wait. Stopping, then trying to mentally re-start is the worst. On a larger scale, this is the same for training as a whole. When you come more and more and more it's easier every time. But as soon as you stop and take a few days off, it becomes harder to make yourself go back. It's understandably easy to see work and your personal life as too consuming to let you go, when they are actually no more consuming than when you were training 5 times a week.

I've found this to be true in my regular life as well. When I'm at work or at home, if I keep doing tasks straight through to the end of the day without a break, I get much more accomplished than if I stop for a minute. The moment I stop to look at what's in front of me everything seems much more daunting than when I charge through. Not to say you shouldn't look at what's in front of you; otherwise you might kick someone.