Finding a good dojo is a lot like house hunting. You have a list of qualities and features that you must have, ones that you would like to have and a few that are "bonuses". You usually have a price range in mind and you also tend to know the size that will suit you and your needs.

When it comes to house hunting, sometimes you find your "home" right away. Other times, you search and search and search some more. Sometimes it is the unexpected "house" that catches your eye, or even better, it seems to find you. They always say that you will "just know" when you have found "the one".

I of course, have never been house hunting, but I have heard of the joys and difficulties of this process from family and friends. I have however, went dojo hunting before. With the first dojo I went to, it was the only one I could afford ($10 a month for two classes a week) and it wasn't too far from my house (though my Mom still complained about the drive). It quickly became a home away from home and I made some good friendships and found some new people that I added to my extended family. Eventually, life caused me to leave that home behind. I was sad at the time, but looking back, I think I needed to move on. I needed a different home; I had outgrown that one. I still keep in touch with those I became close with, but I have closed that subchapter of my life.

Without really planning it, a new home found me several years later. In a desperate attempt to get my grouchy husband out of the house for something to do (the poor guy couldn't find a job for a while and was going batty), I helped him find a dojo. I had no interest in doing martial arts again and told him that I was merely going along for moral support. We went to one dojo and he wasn't really enthused about the place, so we decided to try another. It was further away and rather unassuming from the outside. It appeared to be an old church and it sat across the street from an old, but well maintained cemetery. The moment we walked in, my husband got this goofy grin on his face that just wouldn't fade away.

I knew at that moment, that my husband found his "home". We went back the following week to give a class a shot and my husband decided he liked it and wanted to join. Problem was, he refused to join without me. After pissing a moaning and not being able to win (my husband is rather stubborn), I figured I would join long enough to get him into it, then I would "lose interest" and quit, leaving him to do his own martial art thing. It seemed like a brilliant plan at the time….

Slowly, this humble and assuming dojo started to become my sanctuary. Before I knew it, the sensei and the other people who trained there slowly became friends and eventually they became family. I no longer had any plans of leaving. It suddenly seemed like a ludicrous idea a madman had conjured up. That was when I realized my "home" found me. I was happy; I was content. Occasionally, there were times when I had to force myself to show up, but once I got there, I got that warm, homey feeling and knew I had made the right decision to come. That "warm, homey" feeling was probably just me being hot and sweaty from rolling around with the boys, but I enjoyed it none the less.

One day I found myself contemplating leaving my "home"; flying from the "nest". It wasn't because I was unhappy there…. I was VERY happy there, but I had a strong feeling in my gut that it was my time to go. My family was calling me and I needed to migrate where they were, but I was afraid. I wasn't ready to leave the "nest". I flapped my wings and contemplated diving, but it was a difficult thing to do. In the end, my sensei told me that sometimes, life is bittersweet. He told me that unless I experienced bitterness, I would never appreciate something sweet when it came along. At that point I cried, but I felt that he had given me his blessing to move on and a month later, I flew the "nest".

I flew and I flew and I flew. It was a long journey, but I had family and a job waiting for me. After many days, I had reached my new abode. It is a lovely townhouse in a nice area, but something is missing. Everything I had before is here…. except the dojo I left behind. I gave up one family to be with another. Although I am certain I made the right decision, I still miss them each and every day. I ache to fill the hole that is now empty. I know nothing will replace them, but I long to have a "home" and until I find something to fill that gap (even a tiny bit), I won't truly be "home." So, I have gone "house hunting"…..

Like southern Oregon, my options are limited. I had three options there and I have three options here. None of the three are affiliated with Birankai, but that isn't a deal breaker for me. None of them screamed my name when I looked at their websites, so we decided to go to the one that is closest. It is only 3 miles away, which is much closer than the 18 plus I was doing each way before.

The dojo was quiet and unassuming and the people there seemed friendly enough. It was all the little, unimportant, things that had me feeling out of place. Everyone practically yelled something in Japanese that I didn't understand, at the front door before entering. The only bit I understood was the end where they said "onegaishimasu". The mat space was big and felt like it would swallow me whole… and the mats were canvas. I was used to this cozy little dojo with imitation tatami. They lined up in several rows of threes, where we lined up in one big line. They bowed, clapped twice and bowed again, whereas we just bowed once to the shomen. When it came time to demonstrating techniques, it seemed like there was an awful lot of talking. It was all relevant, just a lot more chit-chat then I was used to in my old "home".

I struggled to find some similarities, but all I seemed to notice were differences. They put the top of their foot on the mat for backwards ukemi, where we kept our toes active. They did a lot of backward rolls, where they were frowned upon in my previous dojo. All little things, but for someone desperate to find another "home" that was just like the previous one (unrealistic I know), they were devastating. In an attempt to find something similar, I began to look at the broad picture. Stylistically, it was similar and they also weren't huge on breakfalls, which is nice. I like doing them, but I hate doing them all the time and those are tough on my husband's body after a while. I was able to recognize what techniques they were doing and slowly I began to see that I would be able to hold my own out there. They had a nice mix of yudansha, mid level kyus and a few beginners. I don't know if that class is representative of all their other classes, but if it is, I will be one of the only females there… which is what I am used to.

At the end of class, they invited us to join in their circle. Things were going good until the end. The way they leave the circle is odd and my best guess is that it is based off of seniority, but I stood up to leave at three different times… and each of them were wrong! HAHA. By the time I finally got up to leave, I was confused and humbled. My husband seems to like the place, though he didn't get the same goofy grin he got before. We are going to go back in the beginning of the year to try a few classes and see if we fit in. In the meantime, I am hoping that maybe, just maybe…. Once I am there, I will realize I have found "home" once more….

The Circle

The circle- it has no beginning and no end. It just continues to be what it is- a repeating pattern. This is only the second dojo I have trained at, but I am all too familiar with what is happening. Periodically, a dojo will receive an influx of new people. My dojo is no different and we have recently acquired five new people over the last week and one other person said they were interested, but has yet to return.

Each time this influx of students appears, I hope that we will retain at least one. Sadly, the majority of the time I am let down. In fact, in the little over two years I have been training, there are only three new people who are newer then I (and two don’t train regularly). Some of the people who leave discover that their grandiose idea of what aikido (or martial arts) is, was shattered. Some discover that aikido isn’t quite what they want in a martial art. Others quit because they aren’t picking up the moves and progressing through the ranks as quickly as they would like. Yet others, have the best of intentions and seem to like aikido, but don’t find it on the top of their priority list. They have a job, a family, or decide to train for a marathon, play sports in school, travel abroad or leave for college.

Although I may be sad to see them leave, I can’t help but be thankful for their brief moment in the dojo. Without even knowing or trying, they have impacted my training in a remarkable way. Beginners are a wonderful, wonderful thing. They keep me humble. They remind me of how it felt to be a beginner. They move in a way that feels natural to them. Their responses are not trained, thus you find yourself in some odd situations that you would not otherwise have the chance to experience. They might spin out of shihonage or they might spin their back towards you in sankyo because to them, that seems like a logical way to get away from the pain.

These responses seem to be how many untrained people would react. It is hard to tell a trained person, “React like a beginner will you?” I myself can recall a few times where I did not respond the way I should have as a beginner. One class I remember, my partner had a jo and I was to grab the end of it (ai hanmi). They would then pull the jo back and then move it forward again in order to have me off balance and put me into a roll. When my partner pulled back, I simply slid in, keeping the same foot forward. They tried over and over and finally, in exasperation, told me I was moving wrong.

I was confused. You pulled me. I kept my center and slid in. It was not a completely untrained response on my part. It was a trained response from my aikijitsu training. Finally, the instructor was called over and I was informed how I was supposed to move. In aikido, we are constantly being told how to move. It allows us to work on a specific technique and also allows us to protect ourselves. Not to mention, martially, it gives us options that might not be available otherwise. So, when I get my hands on a new person, although it can be frustrating, I relish in the gift that I have just been given. It is a precious gift that they unknowingly handed over to me and I know I can only have it for a relatively short amount of time. It is like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day; it will eventually melt away.

As I sit back and watch this circle repeat itself over and over again, I can’t help but wonder what people thought of me when I joined. Did they think I was just a brief visitor, another one who would come and leave? Or did they think, like the circle, I would keep returning to the dojo to get my aikido fix? The thing about newbies, is that you never know who will be the one to go or who will be the one to stay. The maniac newbie who trains every day for months may very well fizzle out in the end like a fourth of july sparkler. Meanwhile, that clumsy beginner who struggles at everything may very well continue to grow and blossom as if they are a happy daffodil rising up out of dormancy to greet the spring sunshine…..

A step in the right direction

For months I have been limping along, unable to take a full stride in the direction I want to take. I can see where I am headed, but the journey is painfully slow. About a week or two ago, I began to realize that I was no longer limping my way around. Instead, I was beginning to move without fear of pain. In fact, I realized I hadn't given my foot much thought at all lately…..

Okay, so technically, I haven't been limping from my injury in several months, but the pain has never subsided. It has always kept me sidelined or made me pull away or hold myself back from the simple joys I once took for granted. I have never been graceful on the mat, but for the past several months, I looked more like a cow on ice. I was awkward, lost and scared. I constantly found myself desperately searching for that green pasture I remembered; the one where I felt like I was on stable ground.

Somewhere along this journey, when I stopped looking so far ahead, I realized that I was already in a green pasture. Sure, it isn't the one I can picture further down the road, but it isn't bad. The grass is green and though there are a few weeds here and there, it isn't overrun by any means. Instead of finding myself moping about, wishing I were in the pasture down the road, I found myself enjoying this one. The grass smelled just as sweet as I remembered and the grass still felt amazing under my bare feet. I found myself frolicking about, without fear of holes or bees that may sting the bottoms of my feet. I tumbled onto the grass and just soaked up the moment. I finally let go and allowed the sun to warm me from the outside in.

Letting go of all the things that were holding me back was liberating. I didn't realize that carrying an injury around for so long was such an exhausting experience. By body was tired of compensating, my mind was exhausted from trying to remind me how to move without pain… and my spirit was broken from being knocked down and held back for so long. As I stared at the clouds lazily passing me by, I realized that I had finally made a step in the right direction.

It has been at least eight months since Abe crashed into my foot. Eight months of my life have passed me by. For those eight months, I took the back seat and played a passive roll in my life. If I have learned anything over the past few months, it's that I need to fight to maintain an active roll in my life, listen to my body and that being stubborn doesn't always solve a problem.

Last week I actually found myself enjoying aikido again. I wasn't anxious or afraid that pivoting on the balls of my feet would cause a great deal of pain. I wasn't conscious of my cow on ice-like movements. Instead, I just enjoyed being on the mat practicing. Saturday, I even gave iaido a shot. Last time I took iaido, it was a huge mistake. It caused my foot to get cranky and once that happened, it wouldn't behave itself anymore.

This time, my foot was more then cooperative!!! In fact, it went so well that I told my sensei I would be joining aikido class as well! We had previously discussed me training iaido one weekend and watching aikido after and vice versa the next weekend. As of today, my foot is still a happy camper. HOWEVER, my quads are KILLING me!!! I didn't realize how out of iaido-shape I was.

My Blog Has Attitude?

I received an Attitude Blog Award from Lynn.

Lynn, sorry it has taken me so long to do this, but I can be a bit of a slacker at times. :O( Let me start off by saying that I am touched that you chose me. It is a really sweet gesture that won't be forgotten.

Three random things about myself.... hhmm......

1. I spend more time online playing facebook games then I probably should :O/
   
2. I can only cook like five different meals (but my stuffed shells are a major hit with all)
   
3. Some of my new obsessions: vanilla coke, Smith's rose mint lip balm, jasmine green tea and nutella
   

I'm supposed to nominate three other ladies, but most of the blogs I follow are men or aren't updated on a regular basis and I can't nominate the person who nominated me.... So here is one person who I feel should have this honor!

1. Daisy This girl is an amazing person. She has a way with words and is a determined, strong willed, sincere person. I wish her all of the best in her life (she recently got engaged!!)
   

Speed Skating

Sometimes I feel like a speed skater.

I take a deep breathe and exhale slowly as I step out onto the ice. My breathe rises into the chilly air as my legs begin to move in rhythm with my heartbeat. The glassy surface of the ice glides beneath me as I lean into my turn. I'm balanced and feeling confident as I pick up speed. I pick up the pace and do a mental check to ensure that my body is streamlined. The sounds of my skates on the ice and my heartbeat are the only sounds that I take note of.

I push myself to go harder, faster as I race around the rink. My confidence shatters as my left skate begins to wobble with wild abandon beneath me. I desperately try to regain my balance as I careen towards the wall. The wall seems to run towards me in greeting and crashes into me. I bounce off the sideboard and collapse to the ice in a spinning, sliding heap.

Before I even have time to assess the damage, tears fill my eyes. It was my body's preemptive strike, as if it knew that pain was on its way, but I was just too shocked to feel it yet. I lay there, resting my cheek on the ice, watching my warm, salty tears fall from my face, creating a tiny puddle on the glassine surface. The pain slowly sinks into my awareness as I begin to take note of what hurts.

I push myself up to the seated position. Not only am I sore, but the cold ice is making me more miserable. As I attempt to gain my footing and stand, I wobble once more and nearly collapse to the ice again. What the hell? That is when I realize that my blade came loose. The reason for my fall was because my foundation, the blade of the skate, was compromised. Without a proper foundation, you have nothing to stand on.

The same can be said for aikido. Without a proper foundation, you have nothing. Since I have only been training for two years, I am still working on my foundation. I am constantly becoming more aware of the weaknesses. I go back and try to caulk up the cracks and sometimes, I need to just redo that entire section.

The other day, I was made painfully aware of a few of my weaknesses. Saturday morning, I discovered that my foot may not be healed enough for me to continue training the way I am. An hour of iaido already made my foot sore and aikido just aggravated it more (additional info on that a few paragraphs from now). I was already in a low to moderate level of pain and my movement was compromised. In aikido, I was made aware of yet another weakness; ukemi.

While working on tsuki soto kaiten sankyo, I was not able to keep up the pace with nage as they brought me around. Try as hard as I may, I constantly found myself unable to stay close to them and found myself frantically running in a large circle further away from them. This of course made it feel like my wrist would be ripped off at any moment. I was working in a group of three people and I was ecstatic whenever I had the chance to sit out and rest my wrists.

Somewhere along the way, between the foot pain, the wrist pain, getting hit in the face, my stupid nose that wouldn't stop running (hello allergy season!) and the emotional duress I was in, it became too much. It was as if I careened into the sideboard at the skating rink and crumpled to the ground all over again. I found myself fighting back tears that kept trying to force their way out. One person asked if my foot was okay and if that was why I was crying. They said if it was pain, that I should stop, but if its emotional, to keep training. I told them I was fine and kept training. I was determined not to let my failed attempt at a kool-aid impersonation get the best of me. Sometimes, crashing into walls is part of training. I know that one day, I will break down those walls and will come out on the other side yelling "OH YEAH!"

By the end of class, I had pulled myself together, but was still in a fragile state. I helped run the mats with the rags and then went downstairs to change and head home. I have given it much thought, but I have yet to come up with a reason for why I am so emotional. I never had this problem before I left for my injury hiatus. All the feelings I have now: frustration, pain and determination, I had before I took two months off. So… why now? Why am I becoming such a big baby?


Foot update:

Well, as you know, a couple weeks ago the doctor gave me the green light to add my activities back in. He wanted me to do everything that I did before. I made it clear to him what I was doing and he said EVERYTHING I did before, to begin doing again. Well, I was training twice a week for a couple weeks and this week, I decided to add in a third day. Saturday, I decided to push my foot a bit. I had been avoiding suwariwaza and iaido because those used to be painful, even though I was told I could do them again. Since I had an appointment in a few days, I figured if it got worse, I could keep it and if was fine, I would cancel it like he said.

Well, as you know from above, the activities I did hurt the foot. I iced it after iaido and I remember going ouch a few times doing all the suwariwaza in the beginning of class. Pivoting on that foot and doing rolls during ukemi can also cause pain. Earlier in the week, I felt pain in that foot, but it didn't make my foot terribly sore the next day. I can't quite say the same thing after Saturday.

Well, despite the pain, I cancelled my appointment with that doctor. I have decided that I don't trust his opinions. He contradicts himself way too often and I'm not getting the results that I want. I realize that injuries take time to heal, but this is bullshit! I've been dealing with pain, icing the foot, taking medicine, resting the foot, wearing sneakers and limping around for over six months! I want this to be over!

Since I am headed back east for a couple weeks, that will allow my foot to rest for a bit. When I get back, I am going to resume training again and if it does indeed get worse, I have another place that I am going to call. It is an orthopedic center that has about 8 doctors on hand. Each one specializes in an area (spinal, upper extremity, knee and pelvic, foot and ankle, etc). I can send them over my x-rays from my current doctor and if I need an MRI, they can do it on site there. My husband went there in the past and a coworker of mine went there for an ACL injury. I was told that you leave with a plan and various options you can take. I think that they may be better able to help me then the podiatrist I have been seeing for the past couple of months.

My fear isn't being told to rest longer, though that would suck, but not really knowing what is wrong with my foot. The scientist in me wants to know what is wrong and I want to know how to fix it. I have also wondered if PT would help with my injury, but the podiatrist I saw never made that an option for me.

This situation is beyond frustrating and I am tired of just coping. This has gone on long enough and I want to put this behind me. I want to train again without experiencing pain and be able to take ukemi or do a technique without fear of it hurting. I want my body to be able to relax and enjoy the time on the mat instead of treading on eggshells, fearful of it rebelling against itself……

::sigh::

Lovely To Be Back

For the past several days I have been really looking forward to training again. I had put my personal emotional breakdown behind me and was finding myself more excited the closer Tuesday became.

The entire day I spent in random daydreams about aikido. Honestly, I feel like a beginner all over again. Perhaps my mini vacation will prove to have been a good thing. I now find myself with a better appreciation of what it is I am doing, as well as for my sensei and other students at the dojo.

My hubby and I arrived at the dojo to see William there. He had moved away a while ago and it was nice to see him back. He explained that he was back to prepare for some wedding plans. We chatted for a bit before I went to change into my gi. On my way upstairs, I stopped and chatted with Erin. She said she wouldn't be able to train since she is feeling a bit sick, but came to help clean the dojo.

Once we were upstairs, I discovered that there were only three people total (me, my husband and William). Where is everybody? Usually Tuesday evenings have a better turnout. Maybe it with it being spring break around here, people are off traveling. William fell us in and started warm-ups and sensei then took over warm-ups once he arrived.

We lined up in the back of the class as sensei grabbed William to demonstrate our first technique- tai no henko. As we were watching sensei demonstrate, a fourth student bowed onto the mat- Don. That made us an even four, which is always nice. Though, sometimes if you are the third man out, you get the perk of sensei grabbing you and working on that technique or something else all together.

The majority of the class was spent on different varieties of kotegaeshi, but we also worked on kokyuho as well. At one point, sensei clapped and we all rushed to the back of the mats to watch the next technique. Before that, we were working on a variation of kotegaeshi from a gyaku hanmi grab and you deflect their hand away with your other hand and then enter (irimi). At this point, you turn and face the same way as uke and then you place one hand near their elbow bend and the other hand grabs kotegaeshi. For this, we were supposed to just slide back and take uke off balance. Evidently, we were turning our hips instead of staying straight because sensei decided to tell us a story about a time with Chiba sensei. He said Chiba sensei got frustrated at a seminar and said "When I ask you to turn your hips, you don't. I finally give you a technique that doesn't require it, and you turn your hips!" Sensei said this story in a joking manner, but it got the point across all the same.

This is a skill that I am still working on. Not just watching, but truly seeing what he is doing. What is his footwork? What is his starting orientation, versus ending orientation? What technique is he doing? What are his hips doing? These are all things that I am slowly learning to watch for, but inevitably, I end up missing something. It is that thing I am missing that keeps me coming back. My desire for perfection will keep me coming back for years to come, as aikido is a never-ending process of learning from your mistakes.

Sensei then calls me up and demonstrates ai hanmi shihonage. I partner up with William and before I know it, sensei is clapping and we all line up to bow out. Wow did time fly! As we bow out, I can't help but give thanks for the opportunity I have. I am hot, sweaty and exhausted, but I wouldn't have it any other way………

Wednesday first hour was weapons class. Sensei had us work on some basic cuts and then we would practice some of those same movements empty-handed with our partners. It was nice to see some of the similarities and be able to get a better sense of the line of attack.

Second hour was regular aikido and there were four yudansha and three kyu grade students. We started off the class with a bit of suwariwaza iikyo to loosen up our shoulders. I did the technique standing, as suwariwaza is still a bit too much on my foot. We then moved on to variations of kotegaeshi, kokyuho, jujinage and iriminage. It was a good class and I feel like I have this new appreciation for aikido and how it works. I definitely have many weaknesses I need to work on, but I feel like I am able to notice them a bit more now from watching sensei so much. Maybe it is all in my head though…..

Sensei called me up to demonstrate an iriminage variation. Things were going okay and then one time he pulled me in and next thing I know, I am accelerating towards that mat at warp speed! My feet were pointed up at the ceiling and I was looking at sensei the whole way down. I did the only thing I knew I could do; slap. As soon as I landed, I apologized to sensei because I think I kicked him on the way down. He asked if I was okay and told me not to fall at his feet or I could get kicked. The weird thing was, I did NOT intend to fall at his feet. Up until that point, I had been falling away from his feet. It was as if my feet kept walking past my body, up an imaginary wall until they were on the ceiling. It was the most amazing feeling in the world!!!!!!!!!

Later on that night, while working with a sixth kyu on an ai-hanmi katatedori direct entry variation of iriminage (slide in with forward foot), he stiffened up his arm and upper body and wouldn't allow me to do the technique. I tried a few times to figure out how to get his elbow up and see tried to find the line needed to off balance him, but I couldn't seem to find it. I was almost there. I could sense that if I just somehow could get a bit further, he would go, but I couldn't seem to get over that last little rock. Finally, I reached up with the other hand, grabbed the back collar of his gi-top and pulled down ever so slightly. Down he went. Although I wasn't successful with the particular technique we were working on, I was glad that I was still able to see another opening and found out it was successful that time.

Once again, before I knew it, class had come to an end. My foot was killing me and I was tired and hungry, but I somehow found my way to the line to bow out. When I got home, I assessed my foot and decided to take some medicine to help with the inflammation that I felt. I also noticed that I had a nasty bruise developing on my right ankle. I tried to recall what I might have done, but nothing eventful comes to mind. As I sit here now, it would probably be easier to say what doesn't hurt. Ah, it's good to be back!

The Return

Last week I had reached my limit; I was done. Everyone has their breaking point and I just discovered mine…….

It has been about two months since that fateful day I decided to go to the doctor about my foot. It feels like forever since I have slipped into my gi, tied my faithful white belt around my waist and bowed onto the mat. I miss the way the mat felt under my bare feet and I long for the feeling of weightlessness that I felt as I flew threw the air. I had to go back…..

Tuesday evening I showed up with my gi bag slouched over my shoulder. When sensei saw me downstairs with my gear, I was greeted with a smile. I went to the changing room and found myself quite nervous as I began to change. I'm not sure why I was so nervous, but part of it must have been because I wasn't sure exactly what would happen. Was it time for me to step back on that mat or was I just being stupid? As I walked upstairs, I figured that I would soon find those answers out for myself.

My main goal for the class was to slowly wade myself into the waters and see exactly how deep I could go before getting overwhelmed. Each time I felt like I had waded in just a bit too far, I would pull back. Unfortunately, I knew that I wouldn't know my limitations until I pushed them too far. Turns out the class went well. Tuesday evening is a beginner class, so I knew that it would be a good class to test out my foot. One thing I discovered that I'm not quite ready for yet are forward rolls. Putting all the weight on the foot as I come up on that side is still a bit much. Luckily, I was able to find this out on my own during ukemi warm ups in the beginning of class, so I was controlling everything at that point.

Sensei kept an eye on me and about fifteen minutes before class was over, sensei came up with the pack of frozen peas I am all too acquainted with and told me to sit out the rest of the class and ice the foot (as I was staying for an additional hour of tai chi class after aikido). I sat off on the side, icing my foot and watching the end of class. As they lined up to bow out, sensei motioned me to come back on the mat so I could bow out with them. I was ecstatic to be back and as I walked downstairs to change into my sweats and hoodie, I couldn't help but feel like I had made the right decision to come back.

Wednesday I showed up again for more. First class was a weapons class. It went alright I suppose. After an hour of working with the bokken, I felt this stinging sensation on my hand and was more then surprised that I had taken a chunk of skin the size of a pencil eraser off of my left palm where the pinky pad is (just below where the pinky joins the palm). How could this be!?! Has two months off of class really softened my hands up THAT much? Sure enough, as I examine my hands, the calluses I had built up were no longer there. After class, I put on a bandaid and wrapped some athletic tape around my hand to keep the bandaid on.

Second hour, sensei showed up to teach. As I looked around, the class consisted of three white belts and three yudansha. This was the class that I knew I would have to be careful with. This class is usually more vigorous and sometimes you can get tossed around rather hard. Turns out that this class would turn out to be more difficult for me then I anticipated. For this class, we mainly worked on henkawaza, (sp?) which was fun because we don't really work on this too often. For the most part, my partners were rather considerate and would ask if the pace was okay for my foot, which was most appreciated.

At one point, I went to attack my partner with a shomen and next thing I knew, their elbow bashed me right in the face right below my right eye. Everything went black for a second and as the colors came back, my eyes began to get all watery. I honestly have NO idea how they bashed me as they came in for ikkyo. I stumbled away from them when it happened and tried to compose myself before going back. For the rest of that class, I could NOT get my nose to stop running…. I guess they whacked that sinus pretty good. This same person also whacked me in the face a couple other times later in class during iriminage, but some of that was my fault. Then another yudansha stepped on my foot as we were working on shomenuchi iikyo to shihonage.

By the end of the class I was sucking wind and felt beat up. I could definitely tell that it had been two months since I stepped on the mat. I felt sloppy, my ukemi wasn't quite as soft and my endurance SUCKED! As I changed in the darkness of the changing room (I prefer to leave the lights off if it's just me as there is enough ambient light from the hallway), my emotions overcame me. I was a mess and found myself quite upset. As I cried quietly to myself, I tried figuring out what it was that was upsetting me.

Was it because of my poor performance? Was it because I got bashed in the face several times? Was it because I was happy to be back? None of these seemed like the reason for my tears. I let myself shed a few more tears before pulling myself back together. I went out to the sink and splashed cold water on my face and looked in the mirror to see if my husband would be able to tell that I had been crying. Luckily for me, I looked a mess. My face was red from the exercise I had been lacking and the cold water helped decrease some of the puffiness.

As we drove home, my husband noticed I was really quiet and asked if I was okay. I told him I was sad, but wasn't sure why. He then left me to my thoughts, which was exactly what I needed. By the time I got home, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. Despite all the pain, my foot felt alright! I mean, there was a little soreness, but no real pain! In the end, I was happy with how my foot held up. Now if I can just get the rest of my body aikido ready again…….now onto the doctor portion of this entry.

Last week I went for an annual checkup at the doctor and was surprised to see that I had gained ten pounds in less then two months. My weight has always been pretty constant, so it caught me off guard. I guess going from near daily two hour exercise sessions to none really threw my body for a loop. It wasn't getting the exercise it was used to, yet my appetite was still in overdrive.

I was constantly hungry and fueling myself. What I didn't realize though, was that I went from needing a 20 gallon tank to needing an 8 gallon tank to get me through the week. Obviously, the extra fuel I was putting in the tank had to go somewhere….. Although I am not happy about the weight gain, I am not too worried about it. I know that once I begin training again, I will lose the weight once more. In the meantime, I have been grabbing the fruits and veggies as snacks and eating more whole grains for breakfast, which is keeping me satisfied till lunch.

Yesterday I went for my third appointment with the podiatrist regarding my foot. The appointment took all of about five minutes. He asked how it was doing, to which I told him it wasn't really that much better, but not worse. He then told me that he thought I could go back to my daily activities. He told me not to baby it anymore, but at the same time, don't go all out with it either. He gave me an example saying that if I used to run ten miles a week, start off with two and add more each week. He told me that if the pain gets worse over the next couple of weeks, that he would consider giving me a cortisone shot. I found that statement odd because he told me previously that a cortisone shot would NOT help my injury. What the hell is going on with your wishy-washy-ness?

Either way, I was pleased that he gave me the go-head to train again and do all the other activities I used to do. I guess me jumping the gun and training a week earlier really wasn't such a bad thing after all. He then said that this would be a test to see if my foot really is getting better, or if the anti-inflamatories and rest have been masking the pain. He made me an appointment to come back in a few weeks, but said I could cancel it if it is doing just fine.

As I headed home from the doctor, though pleased, I still had this nagging thought in my head. I feel like he was looking at an eight ball before he walked in the room, and that the answer that floated to the top, is what he used to diagnose and treat my problem that day……

I'm Not Drinking Your Kool-Aid......

Everyone has their own method of keeping track of time. Some use a clock. Others use a calendar. Others still would prefer to use a sundial or an hourglass. Those methods are great, but for the past 30 days I have been keeping track of the passing time by another method all together- my prescription bottle.

For the past 30 plus days, I have been diligently taking my anti-inflammatory pills twice a day. Seeing the full bottle and the amount of pills I needed to take helped put my painful hiatus in perspective. I could visually see what it was I needed to do and my only goal was to make those pills disappear with due diligence (or digilence as Flynn Sensei would say- see a post from the fall if you need clarification on this new word).

The other methods of keeping time were strictly forbidden other then when I was at work. Looking at the calendar only made me painfully aware of each class I was missing. When my digilence would fade, I would forget and glance at the clock to check the time. Each time I made this mistake, I grew sad because it just so happened I always looked around the time I would be normally be bowing in to start class.

Each day that passed, I took my two pills, thinking that it would somehow make a difference. Once or twice a week, I would go to the dojo and watch my husband take class. I saw things I would be missing otherwise, though I found myself a bit bitter about being off to the side. I felt like I was the toy a child got the Christmas before. Now that they opened up their brand new toy, I was forgotten over in the corner. No one would play with me.

Okay, so I really wasn't neglected or forgotten, but I couldn't get out there and play nonetheless. My fellow dojomates have been very kind and ask how I am doing each time they see me. Sensei has done the same. Every class, he would walk to the back of the dojo and ask me how my foot was doing. Even if he saw me the day before, he would ask me again. More often then not, I told him that nothing changed.

On one Saturday class, he came and sat down on the mat and worked on my foot a bit. I watched what he did, but didn't feel anything remarkable happen, though some of it was a level just under painful. Later that night and the next day, my foot was sore. Despite being sore, I noticed that my foot had a great deal of mobility that wasn't there before. When I saw him the following week, I told him about the change. He told me that your body naturally forms a sort of cast around the injury site and what he did was remind my foot that it had all these other muscles, ligaments and tendons there that could be used. That was the first and sadly, the last big change I have noticed.

Besides taking my pills, I have also been following the doctor's orders about staying off my foot. I did fall off the wagon of recovery once. I went for a walk with a kid I baby-sit, which was probably at least a half mile walk. While at the park, I played with his stomp rocket and ran around the field for a bit chasing him (or the rocket he sent off). My foot was a bit sore the next day, but not as bad as I thought it would be.

Last week was the final stretch. My pills were almost gone and I grew a bit anxious. I had this horrible feeling in my gut telling me that I wasn't going to get good news when I went back. Tuesday I went and watched the class that could potentially be the last class I sit out and watch. To my surprise, I noticed a couple of new people on the mat. You go and miss a class or two (or a months worth) and all the sudden things have to change….

Before class started, I saw sensei on my way to the bathroom. He asked how I was doing and when I was going to see the doctor. I told him I was alright and that I was going to see the doctor Thursday. I assured him that I would let him know what I found out. When class began, I settled in and got comfy. I always get cold watching, so I had my fuzzy socks, jeans, hoodie and winter coat on.

It was a good beginner class. It was nice to be able to note the differences between complete beginners, somewhat beginners (like myself- a 4th kyu) and the yudansha training. I found the minor (and sometimes major) differences intriguing. If I saw something I wanted to remember, I would write it down in my martial arts training diary that I have. I've had it for years (since like 2001) but never really used it on a regular basis. I have only made a few entries over the past month, but they are little things I find important.

As I watched class, sensei would call people up to take ukemi for him. Even though a month has gone by, I still half expect him to look at me and call me up. Then he calls someone else's name and I am hit with the hard reality that I am not IN class, just merely observing it. Then my self pity fades away and I eagerly try to absorb what it is he is doing. Sometimes I watch the ukemi instead. I figure this is a good opportunity to watch the yudansha's ukemi because I don't have to worry about doing the technique once he has finished demonstrating.

Although I'm not a senior student and my ukemi isn't great, I have always enjoyed the privilege of taking ukemi for sensei. It is wonderful to feel how graceful and effortless a technique can be applied. Not to mention, the fact that I absolutely LOVE the feeling of weightlessness that he gives me. One minute I'm on my feet and another I'm airborne… except the transition is so subtle that I never really notice when or how that came to be. It just is.

Several months after I started taking aikido, he began using me for ukemi. I think he began using me because some of the higher ranking yudansha aren't/weren't able to take some ukemi due to injury or illness. I'm also fairly flexible, so he can do some things to me that he can't do to other people. So, he will pull me out there to turn me into a pretzel with my arms tied behind my back and then choke me. It seems like I am often called out there for rolls, shihonage or kotegaeshi. Regardless of the reasons he chooses me, I still find myself elated when he calls me up. Any opportunity to take ukemi from him is a gift and I truly have learned a lot about ukemi from him this way.

When class came to a close, I once again insured sensei I would keep him informed of the doctor appointment. I didn't tell him about the horrible feeling in my gut and I didn't tell him that I was contemplating lying to the doctor on Thursday. As I walked out of the dojo that now felt like another home to me, I had many thoughts streaming through my head. What would I tell the doctor Thursday and what would he tell me……

When I woke up Thursday, I was quite anxious. Several scenarios ran through my head throughout the day. Each one was slightly different depending on how truthful I was. In one I told the complete truth, another I totally lied and said it was better and in a third scenario, I told him it wasn't any better at all. Obviously, the last two were easy to figure out what the doctor would say. It was the scenario involving the whole truth and nothing but the truth that left that horrible feeling in my gut.

When I arrived at the doctor's office, I decided that I would tell him the truth. I had already missed a months worth of classes. If I lied and hurt it again and had to take more time off, chances are I would have to start at square one all over again and I don't know if I could do that again. At least now I am already a month into my rehab. He came in and we talked a bit. He used a tuning fork on my foot to make sure there were no stress fractures and then basically told me I had to take another month off and to refill the medicine he prescribed last time.

I told him I thought it was only better because I am being a lazy bum and I asked again if it could be a soft tissue injury. He shut me down once more and told me he was sure of his diagnosis. I asked if I still needed an MRI since he said if it wasn't better he would want me to get one and he told me he changed his mind. Although I don't want to pay the co-pay, I was hoping the MRI might reveal the cause of the pain since I still think his diagnosis is wrong. I'm just not sipping the kool-aid he is trying to give me. Instead, I'm downing haterade by the gallon.

When I got home, I called and left sensei a message and told him the bad news and said I would be watching class either Tuesday or Wednesday and that I would talk with him more then. Four days after my doctor appointment, my foot hurts worse then it did before. I don't know if I did something to it, if the tuning fork did something to it or if the pain is all in my head. All I know is that when I woke up this morning, it was pretty stiff and I was limping around for a while.

I also know that I have another month of no class ahead of me and I'm wondering what lies beyond that. Maybe I shouldn't look that far into the future; it will probably only discourage me further. My method of time keeping is now another full prescription bottle and those moderately sized gray pills have become a much hated enemy. My positive outlook I used previously has faded away and now I feel as if I am Empress Phoenix in "Curse of the Golden Flower." In the movie, she knows her husband is poisoning her tea/medicine with black fungus, yet she continues to take it multiple times a day, knowing she is dying with each sip she takes. Okay, so my situation isn't as dramatic or perilous as hers, but I am taking these pills twice a day despite knowing they aren't doing a damn thing.

Maybe I'm being obstinate. After all, I did mention that I don't have faith in my doctor. All I know is that my body is telling me that his diagnosis is incorrect. I'm sure I could get another opinion, but that is more doctor bills and more time off of work. Maybe the cause of the pain is due to a different reason, but maybe the cure is the same. Maybe I need to just take it easy for a while (whatever that means). Or, maybe my doctor really does know what he is talking about and I'm just drinking too much hatorade to give him a chance…….

You want me to WHAT?!?

Hi. My name is Ashley and I have been off of aikido for 5 days and 22 hours. ::sigh:: I am only on day 5 of my 30 day minimum stint in rehab. Last Thursday I finally put on my big girl gi and went to the doctor to see what is up with my foot. It has been almost four months since I have injured it and my foot doesn't seem to be getting any better. I walked into the office hoping for the best, but expecting the worse. Honestly, I was looking for a quick fix. Set me down, give me a cortisone shot, tell me to ice it after class and send me on my way. (I know that wouldn't fix the problem, but at least it would help me forget the problem....)

The doctor came in and asked me about my injury and symptoms, then sent me down the hall for some x-rays. After reviewing my x-rays, he told me that it didn't appear like I fractured or broke anything. He told me that he thinks I have bruised my bone marrow and have a large amount of edema in the bone. At this point, I asked what I needed to do. He told me he would give me a scrip for anti-inflammatory drugs to take twice a day. Sounds easy enough! Then he casually tossed in "No martial arts."

At that point, my eyes got all teary and it was like I was a child being told that I couldn't play with my best friend forever. I didn't really realize how much I liked doing aikido until that very moment. I think he saw how upset I was and asked how often I train and how long I had been doing martial arts. I told him that I train four days a week and hadn't been training long- just over two years. I guess he doesn't know too much about aikido because he commented that I must be fairly proficient at it. HAH! If he only knew…..

At that point he told me that he understood my frustrations and mentioned that he had earned his black belt in tae kwon do a while ago. He told me at minimum, I would be out of class for a month, but it may be more. He then supplemented his previous statement by stating that other then work and casual errands, like grocery shopping, he wanted me to stay off of my feet .

He said usually an injury like this requires RICE, but in this case rest is the only thing that will work. He asked if I took time off at all during the previous months and I told him I had almost two weeks off because of holidays and dojo closings, but other then that, no. He asked if I took time off after I hurt it and told him I went back and just dealt with it. It wasn't the answer he wanted to hear, but he nodded his head like he understood my reasoning.

I asked him if there was a chance that I had a soft tissue injury and damaged a muscle or ligament instead or in addition to the bruised marrow. He told me that he didn't think so based on the way I described my symptoms. He said he could be wrong, but he thinks he is "looking under the right rock." He said he wanted me back in a month and if it wasn't better by then, he would want an MRI to see what is going on.

I nodded and sadly took the prescription from his hand. On my way out, he asked me a bit about my job and asked if CSI was a total lie. I told him I hated the show, but my husband watches it. I explained that it is based on truth, but there is a lot of stuff in the show that is inaccurate or doesn't even exist yet. I then told him that he probably felt the same way about House or ER. He laughed and said he knew exactly where I was coming from.

I went up to the secretary and paid what I thought was a reasonable co pay (since my insurance card didn't mention a price) and scheduled my next appointment. As I walked out the door, I called my hubby to tell him of the news. As I drove home, I couldn't help but think that the doctor is indeed looking under the wrong rock. I would think if I pressed on the bone, it would hurt more and that just isn't the case (unless I really aggravate it first). However, when I point my toes (either using muscles or by using my hand to manipulate them into a pointed position) or stand on my tipy toes (or use my hand to bend them back) it hurts like the dickens!!! I suppose it could still be a bone issue, but I'm thinking it is a muscle or ligament issue. I guess only time will tell.

In the meantime, I will be at the dojo doing observation training on the nights my hubby goes. Sensei told me he would make sure I had everything necessary to sit and watch comfortably. So here is to sitting out of class and hoping time will heal the area. Either way, if it is a tissue injury, a month of rest will surely do that a bit of good too. Right? ::sigh::

A teddy bear

With the 2010 chapter of my life behind me, I am already a few pages into a new one. It didn't take me long to realize that the chapter of 2011 is about new beginnings. Not only is it a new year, but it's also a new decade. Not to mention, I have a fairly new rank to accompany this trend of new beginnings. As a recently minted 4th kyu, I would think, like a coin, my exterior would be all shiny and new. Instead, I get the feeling that I have a rather dull finish. I ask myself how this came to be, but I can't seem to find an answer.

As I stare at my reflection, I realize that I don't look like a shiny new coin at all. Instead, I see….. a stuffed teddy bear. I'm made of worn fabric and I'm being held together by fraying seams. I notice mismatched fabric patches in several locations and I'm showing signs of additional threadbare areas. Then something else catches my eye. What is that? Is that a hole? ::sigh:: Yes, I even have a new hole in my fabric. ::begins shoving the stuffing back inside::

Despite my slightly rough appearance, I don't appear to have been abused or neglected. Instead, it seems that I bear the marks of hard love. It's as if I were the favorite toy of a child that has withstood the test of time (with a little help of course). With each patch I have, it shows the trials and tribulations I have had to overcome. Although my fabric has been pushed beyond its limit, creating worn and torn areas, a patch is there to help reinforce it and make it new once more.

The thread used for my various seams are a kaleidoscope of colors. As my seams become frayed and fall apart, those around me help stitch me back together. Though the sewing may be crude (we can't all be Martha Stewart), and the stitching is never the same color (you make use of what you have at the time), it is done with utmost care.

As I sit and stare at myself in the mirror, I realize how I have changed over the years. I used to look like an average brown teddy bear. You know the type; every kid has one at one point or another. Over the years though, I have acquired a completely new appearance. My plain brown coat has evolved into a coat of colorful patchwork and my dark brown seams have been upgraded to all the colors of the rainbow.

As I continue to stare at the mirror, I take an even closer look at my appearance. One blue patch with white sailboats on it brings back a memory of a lesson with sensei. Something he told me to do countless times with the bokken finally clicked and made sense. As my flashback came to an end, I realized that who I have become has not been a solo project; the entire dojo community played a part.

Sometimes a particular person would push me beyond my limits, ripping a hole in my fabric. When this happens, usually another person is there to help patch me up or stitch me back together again. Occasionally, the person who did the ripping is also the one doing the stitching. Still, I occasionally find myself stitching up my own flaws. After all, you can't always depend on someone else to point out or correct your flaws. Sometimes you have to find and mend them on your own.

As I take one last look at the teddy bear in the reflection, I can't help but conclude that it looks worn out. Although it was done with kindness, it has put up with the rigor of near daily training (and the corrections that come with it) for too long. Like a child's favorite toy, perhaps it has received a bit too much love. As I gaze upon myself, I can feel the various aches and pains that have become a daily accessory, like a wedding band that I never take off. Then somehow, my mind always drifts back to aikido….

As I turn away from the mirror, a smile spreads across my face. Because, despite being worn out, exhausted or full of aches and pains, this teddy bear has a lot of mileage left in it. With each new patch or stitch I receive, I humbly step out on the mat with tangible proof of a new beginning.