I finally pestered my new martial arts studio into letting me do standup fighting as well as Brazilian jui jitsu, and now it's on. I'm back.
It was killing me to sit there on the floor, learning how to get six points in a BJJ match when I could be punching things.
"You aren't going to be in [the beginner] class long," the instructor said after the hour wrapped.
Which is probably good, because the novelty of being back in a standup class may only last so long if every class is an hour of just jabs and then just crosses and then just jabs and crosses. I didn't even get to do any combinations or kicks or or or. But it's coming. And it feels so good to move and punch and dodge and cover up.
I haven't worn the boxing gloves in three months, though, and what used to be easy is now heavy. 16 ounces is a pound on each hand, held up to my temples. My arms ache, and my shoulders, and also my legs from the fighting stance. It's a good ache. I feel like I worked hard for the first time since I left Universe City.