Comfort Zone

I was just chilling between Connor’s karate class and my Krav class, sitting outside at the picnic tables while he played with the other kids.

Nothing really to say… except all the things I still have in my head that I haven’t blogged. I gave up on Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day for the summer because I couldn’t bring myself to blog about anything else, knowing that there’s something else I “should” be posting. Hopefully that will free me up mentally to write about the stuff that really matters, like… well, like me and Connor going to visit my Mom for a long weekend, or like my BFF Amy coming to visit for the day.

Mr. Turner came outside and chatted everyone up while the teenaged black belts taught the little kids’ class inside. I opted not to tickety-tap a stream-of-consciousness blog entry in favor of actually being social.

The adult class was fun, but definitely got me out of my comfort zone — especially pairing up with Mr. Turner for a couple of drills and exercises. Having the teacher show you how to do a proper bar choke — on HIM — is a little weird. So is boxing the teacher, although that’s more frustrating than weird.

Funny how frustrating can also equal helpful. I’d miss blocking a jab, and he’d remind me of the drills we did earlier in class. I’d get mad at myself and start to let loose, and he’d remind me to only punch as hard as I want to be punched.

After class, I came to him with a technical question about blocking those jabs, and he spent a few minutes going over it with me until I had that “a-ha” moment. Then we chatted a while about how to get the most out of class: asking my training partners to step up their game if necessary, giving tips and help to others, making sure I get the most out of each interaction. Getting out of my comfort zone.

“That’s the most fun part,” I told him, “but also the scariest. That’s why I’m here, though.”

That earned me a huge grin and a big, sweaty hug from Mr. Turner.

I needed that.

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