Mondays the World ’Round

Monday is appalling, even at Kung Fu school. Nay, especially at Kung Fu school! It froze after the rain— winter, like a frosty sock on the clothesline, refuses to let go. I ran my laps indoors this morning to avoid the treacherous ice cover on the courtyard. Tom and Charlie opted to run right over it, which was plain stupid. Charlie almost paid for it. Maybe he hasn't enough experience slipping to know what he’s messing with. After all, he comes from Africa.

I was so sore this morning, so stiff. Everything still hurts from Friday. That, along with residual fatigue, contributed to a number of slip-ups in the morning drills, which did little to improve my mood. The master was out of sorts as well, probably also due to the cold. He disappeared for a while, right around Chi Gung time, but he was happy to see me conditioning my hands alone when he returned, and that seemed to be the turning point of the day. I acquired a small injury to my right index finger during hand conditioning today. Responding to impact stress, my finger has swollen a bit around the first joint. I assume this serves as sort of natural, inflatable, splint to keep the connection stable. The master was quite happy about this, hopefully only because it shows I’m not slacking.

I’m starting to get the hang of the conditioning. Like most everything in Mantis Fist, it’s all about relaxing. We draw one hand at a time over our heads and bring it falling (more like whipping) down into the bean-bag. What’s important is keeping the shoulder relaxed, because if the shoulder is tense it effectively separates the body’s inertia from the hand— which is the part that delivers the smacking and, so, wants all the force it can get. Relaxing is also the key to our punching power, kicking drills, and, obviously, stretches. I am really making strides in relaxing during tough stretches. The body naturally tenses up in response to pain, and these stretches hurt terribly, but practice makes perfect.

In the afternoon I learned a ton of new movements for my second form, so many I may have trouble remembering them all. Perhaps I’ll practice before dinner, but maybe not . . . probably not. I’m still writing, for one thing, and I’m at a suspenseful part of “Breaking Bad,” a series I started yesterday.

Ending notes— the new cook continues to outperform, the master is showing me how to scrub my shoes later, and its so, so cold. I had to bring my frozen socks in onto the radiator, and my poor, drenched towel into the furnace room. And, to Aunt Sue, you’re very generous, but I fear shipping coffee to China might be a big hassle. I can surely find something here, eventually.