One on One
Teacher has taken the month off to travel to far off lands, so the class is left to its own devices in the mean time. So although there is no official class offered, me and a few of the over 40 club decided to get together whenever we can.
I’ve decided to call us that because we stick out so significantly. A bulk of the class is in their teenage years, followed by the three guys in their early 20s and then there are the four of us oldsters. Between us the litany of physical complaints would probably never stop if class wasn’t in the way.
It makes you wonder where the missing population segment is - Probably busy having families and other important stuff.
I asked Teacher a week or so before he left if it was okay to train/teach with Big Dave while he was gone and I got the nod. However, as soon as I got a yes Big Dave goes to Trucker and tells him we’ll be working out. Oof. Awkward. Not wanting to exclude someone I took his number and wondered how I was going to manage that.
Dave and I met on Saturday and went to his gym; literally the most modern and beautiful place I’d ever stepped into, and began warming up. We were sharing the massive “aerobics” room with a single guy when we got there who was fiddling with the stereo which led me to ask Dave what music he listened to. “80’s music.” replied. He never grew out of it like many of my generation. As if by magic the guy started playing death metal circa 2003. Ah well.
While we were going through basic kicks and punches and identifying weak spots in form and technique more young men came in to use the room. Occasionally I’d look through the mirror to see if any of them were going to give the old men any flak. I needn’t have worried because they were pulling up their shirts to check if their abdominal muscles were in the peak of bulginess. I kept asking myself, “was I like that at their age?” Probably. Now I’m afraid the combination of white flesh, hair and sagging mid-line will terrify my opponent.
They all left after twenty minutes of primping and squeezing so Dave and I got to spar. This was the breakdown:
- 30 seconds
- 45 seconds
- 90 seconds
By that last round we were both watching our breathing and made sure we weren’t flailing wildly. Dave would amazingly move to throw! I couldn’t believe it the first time, but we was totally okay with soaking up a few punches to get his hip in and do a beautiful throw. Hunh!
We shall see what tonight brings