After a good night’s sleep we’re up and about. We follow the same routine and go to class.
We tried our best to plaster and tape up my toes and it actually lasted quite a while into class. By now the toe was so soaked with sweat everything was loose and flexible.
The BJJ class was given by the trainer we had on Friday and we did some standing take downs and control positions. When we rolled and spared the last half hour I got chocked out, armbarred, leg locked and flipped around like a rag doll. It’s educational, but damn tiresome.
Massage day today and after training we go back to Sumo and colleagues to get a massage. She still hit all the sore spots and Katja had to ask during the massage if I was OK.
We did lunch afterwards before going back to the hotel for a little nap. Training and massage really take a lot out of me.
When we go back to training I’m guided down to the intermediate group by one of the beginners coaches. We start off by skipping rope, something I suck at. Big time. I do my very best but believe I look like a five year old struggling to synchronize arms and legs. And if that’s not enough the “pump” I get in the calves are not helping.
It’s better training in this group and simultaneous harder. It’s longer rounds of pad work, and that takes its toll. At one point I do ten kicks right then left. All feels fine until I almost fall over sideways. Did I forget to breath? I don’t know, but I took a count to eight before I could continue.
Between each round we do twenty push ups and when I’m down doing mine my coach dumps ice water down my neck and back. It’s just cold for an instant before it’s refreshing and makes me ready for the last round. Gung ho, all in, take no prisoners!
We ended with twenty minutes running in the street and 200 push ups and 200 sit ups, at least you’re supposed to go through the 400 movements. As I lay there gasping for air afterwards, with pump in the calves muscles, no skin on my right big toe, soreness in shoulders and a general feeling of my real age and not my mental one, I realize: I need a rest day tomorrow.
We gather our stuff, order take out, deliver laundry, walk back to the hotel and buy some grilled chicken from a street vendor.
Home we disinfect the gloves and fall over on the couch. Goodnight Irene.
I am old, Gandalf. I don’t look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed! Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can’t be right. I need a change, or something.
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings