Everything hurts. Everything’s sore.
Last week we had our annual Mo Duk Pai symposium. I like the symposium better than our annual weekend camp because the emphasis is on learning instead of
torture character building through sleep deprivation.
The symposium culminated with an all-day training session. It wasn’t all hard-core. We had a ch’i sao (“sticky hands” – similar to taiji push hands) class and a yoga class.
The last class for green and above was “how to be a good tournament judge.” When I had my turn a being the center judge I ran the ring like a tyrant. I reprimanded my fighters for standing too close and I corrected one of my corner judges on how he indicated a point.
We ended the day with a “king of the hill” sparring mini-tournament. Each round was fought to 2 points, winner stays in. In all my fights but one I scored at least one point, including against some hard-hitting hard core black belts. I got hit in the face a couple times. I took a good kick just above my right knee. I had a brown-black belt fall into and over me. I’m told it looked like I threw him, but I don’t remember, it happened so fast.
I threw a couple techniques I never throw: hook kick and ridge hand. I scored with the ridge hand against a green belt who was a lot taller than me. We were kind of tangled up, nothing landing cleanly. I knew I had a clear line of sight from at least one judge, and the ridgehand is such a visible technique. I gotta try that more often.
For one glorious round I was the “king”, having beat Laura. I had to because she said I couldn’t. Nyah nyah. I should have bet her a beer.
This morning I woke up sore all over, especially my back and shoulders. It hurt to reach around back to hook my bra. Boy it was fun!