Seventeen 'Till I Die

Today my room mate turned seventeen.  I told her, as I always tell people who turn that age, that seventeen is the best year.  In my mind I could fairly happily stay seventeen forever.  But why?

(xCoffeeAddict)

It was actually a pretty crappy year.  I was lacking direction and fought to no end with the school I'd chosen to graduate with.  This ended in tears and the principals office.  As well as fantasies of judo-throwing her incompetent self through the floor (she got fired the next year, and had been shuffled around repeatedly because she can't do her job).

I got kicked out of home.  It didn't last long, but was something of a reflection of my family situation in general.  I never got pregnant, did drugs or assorted rebel behaviour.  My parents just didn't get down with my lack of respect for imposed authority.

I spent three assorted months house sitting.  Nothing seemed more magical then a place to myself.

I questioned the beliefs I was raised with late at night, realizing they'd have to become mine, and not sure if they could.

I built.  Houses, with my Dad.

I passed my road test and took to driving like I was made for it.

I dedicated myself to judo, and subsequently reached my peak.

I struggled to establish a social group after the six month trip earlier that year threw a massive friggin' wrench in the one I was supposed to have.

For whatever reason, all that compiled into a belief that seventeen is independence, freedom and life more abundantly.

In the month before I turned eighteen I bought my own little car that I learned to love.  I also graduated, put a down payment on a place, moved out and got a full time permanent job.

Maybe it's just that I never much cared for being an adult.

Judo is a Like

This is not judo,
but you probably don't know that

When I was  seventeen I loved judo.  Basically lived and breathed judo.  I found no better high then a perfect throw or a gold medal and a small town tournament.  I'd get nervous, pumped, determined.  I got in the best shape of my life.

Now I like judo.  I think.  What do I love?  I guess adult life means I don't get passionate about athletic pursuits like I used to.  I almost love dancing.  I know.  From a fighter to a lover.  Tomboy to girl.  I almost love snowboarding.  At least with that you have speed, adrenaline, challenge and a effin' cool image.  I almost love hockey and volleyball.

I'll keep doing judo.  Nothing kicks my butt like a martial arts class.  It's productive, and I like that in a workout.  Best of all, sometimes, I still get the thrill of a perfect throw.

I've learned, for myself, I need commitment.  I learned this through the times I was a complete hypocrite and got badly out of shape (I was mostly out of the country).  I also learned, though, that I'm much happier when I have a physical way to channel my energy.

What I'm saying is this.  Find something to love.  I don't know what it will be.  Maybe you're one of those freaks who gets runner's high.  Maybe you love pilates, rock climbing (this is one I want to do more of), swimming.  Basketball, biking (I do this, but only because it's practical), hiking.  Whoever you are, I'm pretty sure you can find a workout that even you can convince yourself is worth your time.  Parking on the other side of the lot and taking the stairs are good things.  But they shouldn't do more then supplement.

Trust me.  It's worth it to find something you love.

PS, I don't care how good your sex life is.  First off, It probably isn't that great if you're not into any other physical activity.  And it's not gonna make your active lifestyle requirements anyway.  Quit trying to be a smart ass.

Randori, Newaza and Other Japanese Words I Don't Remember

All of me hurts.  Well, when I try to move.  This is specific to, but not limited to thighs, upper stomach, neck and upper arms.  Not to mention the bruises running pretty solid up my left arm.  Does that sound bad?  I think it's because that's the arm I usually break fall with.

Yeah, I'm back at judo. Item 46.

I might not be coming back with the obsession I had at 17.  I always wished I had a chance to start younger and train harder.  But, I've missed it.  Practicing this year will whip me back into some much needed shape.  I build muscle easily for a girl.  I miss my chiseled shoulders, and my masculine forearms.  Wait... what?

Maybe I'll fall in love with the sport all over again.  And if not I'll be able to leave some energy on the mat.  My Mom was never a big fan of her teenage daughter rolling around with sweaty guys, or the part where we try to choke each other unconscious.  But she once said it was good because it was an outlet for some of my fight.

if nothing else I'll leave healthier (unless I tear something in my knee).  Right now that's hard to remember when sitting down necessitates a five inch uncontrolled fall.  In a good way.

 

Maybe you'll see why I find judo beautiful.  This is the international competition scene, no choreography here.  I can understand why a match would be dull for someone who isn't a judoka, so feel free to check out these highlights.  Bobby says to warn you to turn on the mute.