Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Jonas and Frank

There’s this kid I see in my Kung Fu class, named Jonas. He’s a sandy haired young-looking guy -- I thought he was 13 but I’ve talked to him more lately and learned he’s 16, and a sophomore in high school. After a 4-year break, I continued my martial arts training this past May. That’s when I first met Jonas. Only back then he seemed so slight and scrawny I thought he was 13. I remember having to spar with him and thinking I could take him. Ironically, he kicked my ass and I learned fast he’s a skilled adversary. He was a little shorter than me when I met him, but I think he took vitamins and had a growth spurt this summer. He looks all big and thick necked lately. I worked with Jonas tonight and he beat the entire class in the endurance contest we had – he did 21 sets in 20 minutes. Each set consisted of 5 pull-ups, 10 push-ups, and 15 squats. I told anyone I talked to that I did 15 sets, but to tell you the truth I was so burnt out and tired I completely forgot to count. Jonas was pretty proud of his score, as he should be. I made up my score, and told Jonas I did 15. After we completed the drill, the teacher started talking about the purpose of the drill, and I figured if we all had to disclose to the teacher, I would tell him whatever amount that was one more set then this big fat sweaty guy Frank did.

Frank annoys me, he’s built like a pregnant rhino, and when he spars, his gloves are foam or some kind of absorbent material, and absorb all of his sweat. It’s so fucking gross. If you’re not careful, he’ll cuff you on the side of your head with one of those sweat sponges, and you’ll have to fight your gag reflex not to vomit. Knowing this (having suffered this disgusting fate), I learned fast how to dodge, and be aware of where his mitts are at all times. I tire him out by moving him all over the training floor, and I have much more endurance then he does so I hop around, shuffling in and out like Bruce Lee (but not as good). It makes me feel good, to see him and his sweaty mullet and steamy glasses all huffing and puffing, but then I think at least he’s attending the class. It can be pretty tough sometimes. Frank’s been in and out of the class like me since 2000, but he’s always been fat. He’s a blue belt; I don’t even believe that he was able to get that. The belt orders are (lowest to highest) white, or no belt, orange, purple, blue, green, brown, brown/red, brown/black, black and degrees of black and so on. I’m an orange working toward purple, which I can test for the next time they do adult testing. But as far as Frank’s blue belt is concerned, I’ll have to pay closer attention to the belt requirements. Frank had a wife and teenager son that attended for a while, but they were fat too and didn’t last. His son was 14 and had man boobs.

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