also known as falling off your bike for the first time in about 15 years.
Yes, I actually fell off my bike this afternoon when I was cycling to trampolining class when I went round a corner and my back wheel slid out from under me on a patch of mud. I skinned my knee, hurt my palm a bit and bled everywhere, but nothing that wont heal and form a badass scab...
And, AND! I didn't cry at all and I even went to trampolining even though I fell off my bike. Because I am A Big Girl.
Admittedly, I did go "Aaaaargh! Owwwwww!" and glance around to see if anyone was there to look worried and ask if they could help/call an ambulance/give me a cuddle/kiss it better, but sadly I was alone and my manly whimpering went unheeded.
My bike feels weird, though - all wibbly and unsteady (or is that just me?) so it's a trip to the bike shop to have it checked over and my front brake fixed again (remember how the kids playfully sabotaged my brakes? Well, they're still dodgy).
In other news, last night I went to the Tall Tales Oscars with Lovely Kal, at the Scottish Storytelling Centre on the Royal Mile. It was a fun night where storytellers competed to tell the best tall tale, for the honour of winning a trophy shaped like a gnome. Lots of jokes and very good fun, and obviously good company.
Tomorrow I have about 4,000 people coming over to value the flat, give estimates for work and so on, I have to get a passpor application form because my passport's still in my maiden name, have lots of passport pictures taken, and other wee jobs like that. I also need to make another appointment with my lovely doctor as my voice is still fucked, and I think I'm in need of a higher dose of anti-depressants. Training in the evening, and sorted.
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
One small step for man...
... one fuck-off, scary-ass, massive, life-altering trip of a lifetime for Aarayan and Paul.
Mum, dad... we've got something to tell you.... we're gay.
Nah, not really (well, only a bit) - we're just going to live in Thailand for a year.
Following a period of epic unrest for me and a lengthy period of what can only be described (providing you're a bit middle-class and pretentious) as ennui for Paul the fates have presented us with a set of circumstances which are never likely to align again.
1 - I'm still young enough to make a go of training and fighting full time to see how far I can get
2 - I'm about to be out of a job
3 - Paul is bored senseless and wants to re-train as a teacher (fool)
4 - We were planning on selling the flat anyway
As such, we find ourselves young (well, I am anyway), child-free, moneyed up (I hope) and unemployed.
This will Never. Happen. Again.
So, what's the plan?
We're moving to Phuket, so that I can train and fight full time with Tiger Muay Thai, which appears to offer excellent facilities, for a reasonable price, and with good promotion connections. I want to get as much fighting experience as I possibly can, come down a weight category perhaps, get ridiculously fit and come back to Scotland and kick some ass :)
Paul's going to work probably teaching English, perhaps doing some web design, spend alot of time grinning his head off, drinking on the beach and learning to dive (not all at the same time, I hope).
He also thinks we're getting a pet elephant. I haven't got the heart to tell him it's not the same as owning a dog.
We'll get a flat on the island, and try and really enjoy our year in Thailand properly. I'm learning Thai with Bun down the road, and Paul's going to start lessons next week, I'm going to get as fit as I can before I leave to avoid too much unneccessary delay before fighting when I arrive.
Before all that, though there's all the unfamiliar territory of visas, work permits, selling our flat here, finding temporary homes for our pets, putting our belongings in storage and somehow managing to say goodbye to the people we love.
Paul, at least, has done this before and has some experience of saying goodbye, coming back and finding he hasn't been forgotten. He has many friends whom he sees intermittently and whenever their paths cross.
I'm finding the idea more difficult because, to be perfectly honest, I don't have many friends, but the ones I do have I love very much. There's Kal, Fran and Giles; Ally, Ann, Scott, Tessa and the guys from training; and the girls at school and saying goodbye is going to be very, very tricky. I've been in Edinburgh quite some time, and it's taken me this long to feel like I belong, so leaving it all feels like a big risk. All I can say is expect a very, very emotional Aarayan at our going away party (which, by the way, will be huge!)
So, I'm going to have plenty to write between now and July, when we leave, and even more after that!
Stay tuned, folks
A x
Mum, dad... we've got something to tell you.... we're gay.
Nah, not really (well, only a bit) - we're just going to live in Thailand for a year.
Following a period of epic unrest for me and a lengthy period of what can only be described (providing you're a bit middle-class and pretentious) as ennui for Paul the fates have presented us with a set of circumstances which are never likely to align again.
1 - I'm still young enough to make a go of training and fighting full time to see how far I can get
2 - I'm about to be out of a job
3 - Paul is bored senseless and wants to re-train as a teacher (fool)
4 - We were planning on selling the flat anyway
As such, we find ourselves young (well, I am anyway), child-free, moneyed up (I hope) and unemployed.
This will Never. Happen. Again.
So, what's the plan?
We're moving to Phuket, so that I can train and fight full time with Tiger Muay Thai, which appears to offer excellent facilities, for a reasonable price, and with good promotion connections. I want to get as much fighting experience as I possibly can, come down a weight category perhaps, get ridiculously fit and come back to Scotland and kick some ass :)
Paul's going to work probably teaching English, perhaps doing some web design, spend alot of time grinning his head off, drinking on the beach and learning to dive (not all at the same time, I hope).
He also thinks we're getting a pet elephant. I haven't got the heart to tell him it's not the same as owning a dog.
We'll get a flat on the island, and try and really enjoy our year in Thailand properly. I'm learning Thai with Bun down the road, and Paul's going to start lessons next week, I'm going to get as fit as I can before I leave to avoid too much unneccessary delay before fighting when I arrive.
Before all that, though there's all the unfamiliar territory of visas, work permits, selling our flat here, finding temporary homes for our pets, putting our belongings in storage and somehow managing to say goodbye to the people we love.
Paul, at least, has done this before and has some experience of saying goodbye, coming back and finding he hasn't been forgotten. He has many friends whom he sees intermittently and whenever their paths cross.
I'm finding the idea more difficult because, to be perfectly honest, I don't have many friends, but the ones I do have I love very much. There's Kal, Fran and Giles; Ally, Ann, Scott, Tessa and the guys from training; and the girls at school and saying goodbye is going to be very, very tricky. I've been in Edinburgh quite some time, and it's taken me this long to feel like I belong, so leaving it all feels like a big risk. All I can say is expect a very, very emotional Aarayan at our going away party (which, by the way, will be huge!)
So, I'm going to have plenty to write between now and July, when we leave, and even more after that!
Stay tuned, folks
A x
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Asthma is *so* last season.
I've decided I'm bored of asthma now, so that topic is finished. I don't want to get all drama-queeny and boring about it and, really, there's only so much to say.
Sooooooooo.... what's new with you?
What - nothing?
Fair enough - I'll tell you what's new with me instead, because it's my blog and I'll randomly change the subject if I want to.
Firstly, teaching.
Fucksake. Kids these days.
To cut a long story short, and save you from excessive woe, the job's been a nightmare. The staff have been great and how they drag themselves in day after day and maintain any semblance of positivity is beyond me. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge I'm moving on somewhere hopefully more inspiring at the end of this academic year. The upshot of it all is that the appalling behaviour, constant abuse and aggro and high-stress levels have driven me to drugs, and not even fun ones: boring anti-depressants. They don't even make you hallucinate or anything. Boo.
Interview time is, however, upon us, so I'm trying to be positive. I've applied for 3 jobs so far at lovely, lovely schools with children who have a whole range of different issues, but who are at least not likely to swear at me, run away, throw furniture, threaten violence or damage property on a regular basis. I'm trying for optimism and have started putting together an interview outfit which is actually proving more stressful than the application process. Honestly, what a girl.
In other news it is only 4 meagre days until the fight. FOUR.
SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.
Nah, it'll be fine. Honest. (shitshitshitshitshit...)
I've trained as hard as I can: running, swimming, cycling, sparring, double pads with Ally and Ann, and I've cut a ridiculous amount of weight, going from 70kg to 62.3kg in 7 weeks. I've got an entire cupboard full of treats for the weekend of the fight, but I'm not going to go crazy with the food, I've got a fight a month after this for a few months so I need to keep my weight stable and I have no desire to go through this stupid weight thing again.
That said, here's my list of yummy food I currently crave:
- Thai barbeque ribs and chicken wings
- Dominoes BBQ pizza
- Burger King Bacon double cheese burger
- Snickers bar
- Croissant with raspberry jam or nutella
- Galaxy chocolate of any variety
- Toasted bagel with cream cheese and crispy bacon
- Oodles of toast
- Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Therapy icecream
- Fish and Chips
- Roast chicken & chunky home made chips
But I promise not to actually eat all those things - the last thing I want to do is but 8 kilos back on again and have to lose it by the 15th March...
I'm pretty much organised for Saturday. I'll be out of school like a bat out of hell when the bell rings at 12.35 on Friday, up to the Commonwealth Pool for a sauna, down to Tollcross to get my hair braided, maybe a sneaky massage in Stockbridge and back home for a salt bath to get this last 2 kilos off. I've got my kit washed and ready and I've stocked up on ibuprofen, thai oil, baby oil and vaseline. I've decided what I'm eating before and after the fight and bought as much of it as I can, with a list of what else is needed and what needs to be packed in my bag on the day.
I'm excited but not scared, I think I can make a decent go of this fight and maybe layeth the smacketh down.
Now, because I'm an honest girl and I think this is pretty funny (and I finally told Paul, so I can tell you), I'm going to share with you an embarassing example of how much of an idiot I am.
John, chief instructor at the gym, suggested Ann and I go and get a tan. We're both very pale - Ann's allowed because she's Swedish, I'm just pale... because.
I wasn't going to bother because, frankly, it's ridiculous, but I was a bit miserable today so I thought "What the hell, why not, treat yourself."
So I did.
Now I have sunburnt boobs.
Idiot.
Sooooooooo.... what's new with you?
What - nothing?
Fair enough - I'll tell you what's new with me instead, because it's my blog and I'll randomly change the subject if I want to.
Firstly, teaching.
Fucksake. Kids these days.
To cut a long story short, and save you from excessive woe, the job's been a nightmare. The staff have been great and how they drag themselves in day after day and maintain any semblance of positivity is beyond me. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge I'm moving on somewhere hopefully more inspiring at the end of this academic year. The upshot of it all is that the appalling behaviour, constant abuse and aggro and high-stress levels have driven me to drugs, and not even fun ones: boring anti-depressants. They don't even make you hallucinate or anything. Boo.
Interview time is, however, upon us, so I'm trying to be positive. I've applied for 3 jobs so far at lovely, lovely schools with children who have a whole range of different issues, but who are at least not likely to swear at me, run away, throw furniture, threaten violence or damage property on a regular basis. I'm trying for optimism and have started putting together an interview outfit which is actually proving more stressful than the application process. Honestly, what a girl.
In other news it is only 4 meagre days until the fight. FOUR.
SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.
Nah, it'll be fine. Honest. (shitshitshitshitshit...)
I've trained as hard as I can: running, swimming, cycling, sparring, double pads with Ally and Ann, and I've cut a ridiculous amount of weight, going from 70kg to 62.3kg in 7 weeks. I've got an entire cupboard full of treats for the weekend of the fight, but I'm not going to go crazy with the food, I've got a fight a month after this for a few months so I need to keep my weight stable and I have no desire to go through this stupid weight thing again.
That said, here's my list of yummy food I currently crave:
- Thai barbeque ribs and chicken wings
- Dominoes BBQ pizza
- Burger King Bacon double cheese burger
- Snickers bar
- Croissant with raspberry jam or nutella
- Galaxy chocolate of any variety
- Toasted bagel with cream cheese and crispy bacon
- Oodles of toast
- Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Therapy icecream
- Fish and Chips
- Roast chicken & chunky home made chips
But I promise not to actually eat all those things - the last thing I want to do is but 8 kilos back on again and have to lose it by the 15th March...
I'm pretty much organised for Saturday. I'll be out of school like a bat out of hell when the bell rings at 12.35 on Friday, up to the Commonwealth Pool for a sauna, down to Tollcross to get my hair braided, maybe a sneaky massage in Stockbridge and back home for a salt bath to get this last 2 kilos off. I've got my kit washed and ready and I've stocked up on ibuprofen, thai oil, baby oil and vaseline. I've decided what I'm eating before and after the fight and bought as much of it as I can, with a list of what else is needed and what needs to be packed in my bag on the day.
I'm excited but not scared, I think I can make a decent go of this fight and maybe layeth the smacketh down.
Now, because I'm an honest girl and I think this is pretty funny (and I finally told Paul, so I can tell you), I'm going to share with you an embarassing example of how much of an idiot I am.
John, chief instructor at the gym, suggested Ann and I go and get a tan. We're both very pale - Ann's allowed because she's Swedish, I'm just pale... because.
I wasn't going to bother because, frankly, it's ridiculous, but I was a bit miserable today so I thought "What the hell, why not, treat yourself."
So I did.
Now I have sunburnt boobs.
Idiot.
Monday, February 11, 2008
As much use as a chocolate fish on a bicycle made of tea pots.
That's what my verdict is of my salbutamol inhaler so far.
Next?
Next?
Worst week ever?
Oh Lordy, troubles so hard.
It's been one of those weeks where the bad news just keeps on coming, really. All of it minor, but when you put it all together it makes for a sucky week, especially when you're fighting in a week.
Sunday - Couldn't train because I hurt my calf muscle
Monday - Still couldn't train because of the calf
Tuesday - Back to training - Hurrah!
Wednesday - Tooth got infected and had to be fixed - no training.
Thursday - Off work, still sick from the tooth, but managed a wee bit exercise
Friday - Back to training - Hurrah!
Saturday - Visiting granny. No training.
Sunday - Training, but not as much as usual. Diagnosed with asthma.
Harsh. Particularly the last one.
I've had the problem a few times that when I'm hitting the pads and I'm really pushing myself I get an audible wheeze and can't breathe - not like being out of breath, much worse. It's been happening more and more after first happening in October and last night I was still feeling tight in the chest so eventually I rang NHS24 and ended up with an appointment at the our of hours clinic.
Now, I've previously had an excellent experience of the out of hours clinic, when I got cellulitis last year, so it's a bit of a shame that I was seen by such an utter cock-jockey last night.
He diagnosed exercised-induced asthma with an oh-so-thorough examination. Involving listening to my lungs with a steth, ...., ...., ....., Oh. Yeah. That was all. he didn't do a peak flow, didn't take my blood pressure, take my pulse, even listen to my heart. He didn't even ask how I felt. He quite clearly desperately wanted to be somewhere else, and oh Lordy it showed.
Dr Cock-Jockey (as I fondly call him) prescribed a Salbutamol inhaler with the following stunningly helpful advice: "I don't know if it'll help, but it can't hurt. My advice would be to exercise less hard". When I explained I compete and I can't just stop if I'm tired, he said he didn't know what else to suggest. I asked him about preventative treatment and he denied any such thing existed when, clearly, it does. Here.
What a wank.
So, this morning I went to see my own G.P. armed with a wealth of information in the hope I'd get a more thorough diagnosis and treatment plan. She was much more helpful, (possibly partly because she had a student), and prescribed a peak flow meter to record how it changes when I've got the wheeze. She also confirmed that there are other drugs I can take if the salbutamol doesn't do the trick and recommended taking it 10 minutes before training as a preventative measure.
I must say, I'm rather chuffed with the Peak Flow thingy, because for a ridiculously competetive person like me, there is nothing like discovering your resting peak flow is off the chart :)
*smugsmugsmugsmugsmug*
Smug.
It's been one of those weeks where the bad news just keeps on coming, really. All of it minor, but when you put it all together it makes for a sucky week, especially when you're fighting in a week.
Sunday - Couldn't train because I hurt my calf muscle
Monday - Still couldn't train because of the calf
Tuesday - Back to training - Hurrah!
Wednesday - Tooth got infected and had to be fixed - no training.
Thursday - Off work, still sick from the tooth, but managed a wee bit exercise
Friday - Back to training - Hurrah!
Saturday - Visiting granny. No training.
Sunday - Training, but not as much as usual. Diagnosed with asthma.
Harsh. Particularly the last one.
I've had the problem a few times that when I'm hitting the pads and I'm really pushing myself I get an audible wheeze and can't breathe - not like being out of breath, much worse. It's been happening more and more after first happening in October and last night I was still feeling tight in the chest so eventually I rang NHS24 and ended up with an appointment at the our of hours clinic.
Now, I've previously had an excellent experience of the out of hours clinic, when I got cellulitis last year, so it's a bit of a shame that I was seen by such an utter cock-jockey last night.
He diagnosed exercised-induced asthma with an oh-so-thorough examination. Involving listening to my lungs with a steth, ...., ...., ....., Oh. Yeah. That was all. he didn't do a peak flow, didn't take my blood pressure, take my pulse, even listen to my heart. He didn't even ask how I felt. He quite clearly desperately wanted to be somewhere else, and oh Lordy it showed.
Dr Cock-Jockey (as I fondly call him) prescribed a Salbutamol inhaler with the following stunningly helpful advice: "I don't know if it'll help, but it can't hurt. My advice would be to exercise less hard". When I explained I compete and I can't just stop if I'm tired, he said he didn't know what else to suggest. I asked him about preventative treatment and he denied any such thing existed when, clearly, it does. Here.
What a wank.
So, this morning I went to see my own G.P. armed with a wealth of information in the hope I'd get a more thorough diagnosis and treatment plan. She was much more helpful, (possibly partly because she had a student), and prescribed a peak flow meter to record how it changes when I've got the wheeze. She also confirmed that there are other drugs I can take if the salbutamol doesn't do the trick and recommended taking it 10 minutes before training as a preventative measure.
I must say, I'm rather chuffed with the Peak Flow thingy, because for a ridiculously competetive person like me, there is nothing like discovering your resting peak flow is off the chart :)
*smugsmugsmugsmugsmug*
Smug.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Goodness me.
It's only 2 weeks now until the 1st fight of the year, and I'm starting to feel the pressure. I'm confident now that I'll make the weight - I was 10 stone 1.8 this morning (64.2kg), and despite the fact I didn't manage any extra cycling or swimming today because my calf muscle is very sore, I'm still expecting to lose a pound or so more by Monday.
Today's sparring was hard for me: it was my last sparring class before the fight, and I really wasn't on my game, which threw my confidence a bit. Thankfully, Ally's a star and sorted me out so by the end of the class I felt much better. I'm definitely nervous, I want to succeed and do my best, and not make an arsehole of myself and all those other things, but at least I feel I've done all I can do so far. I couldn't have dieted or trained any harder up to this point, so I can feel proud of myself for that, whatever else happens.
One more hard week of training, and calmer week to build my strength back up and it's fight day... 13 days and counting!
Today's sparring was hard for me: it was my last sparring class before the fight, and I really wasn't on my game, which threw my confidence a bit. Thankfully, Ally's a star and sorted me out so by the end of the class I felt much better. I'm definitely nervous, I want to succeed and do my best, and not make an arsehole of myself and all those other things, but at least I feel I've done all I can do so far. I couldn't have dieted or trained any harder up to this point, so I can feel proud of myself for that, whatever else happens.
One more hard week of training, and calmer week to build my strength back up and it's fight day... 13 days and counting!
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Dear oh dear.
Not a good week at all. It started out well - my new training schedule firmly in place, I was duly up at 5am for my run on Monday morning, did a pretty good job with the diet, sprints in the evening before training... pat on the back for me, I thought to myself.
It was all downhill from there, however. Tuesday I did not do my hillrun as planned, although I did do my two Thai classes - I apparently decided to swap running for Olympic biscuit-eating. Goddamned staffroom.
And the rest of the week continued in that vein, really. I missed 3 Thai classes, only went running twice and ate myself stupid.
I don't know what it is - the change in the weather? First week of term exhaustion/self-pity? Just the fact that I've not had more than 3 days off training for fights since April? Anyway, it must stop.
After the last fight I was so disappointed in myself that I determined to train like a machine for the next two, win them both, achieve international fame and fortune (well, maybe not that one) and reward myself with a couple of months of well-earned debauchery over Christmas.
So, we begin again this week. Up tomorrow at 5am for a run and this time there will be NO BISCUITS.
D'ya hear me? NO BISCUITS, God damn you!
It was all downhill from there, however. Tuesday I did not do my hillrun as planned, although I did do my two Thai classes - I apparently decided to swap running for Olympic biscuit-eating. Goddamned staffroom.
And the rest of the week continued in that vein, really. I missed 3 Thai classes, only went running twice and ate myself stupid.
I don't know what it is - the change in the weather? First week of term exhaustion/self-pity? Just the fact that I've not had more than 3 days off training for fights since April? Anyway, it must stop.
After the last fight I was so disappointed in myself that I determined to train like a machine for the next two, win them both, achieve international fame and fortune (well, maybe not that one) and reward myself with a couple of months of well-earned debauchery over Christmas.
So, we begin again this week. Up tomorrow at 5am for a run and this time there will be NO BISCUITS.
D'ya hear me? NO BISCUITS, God damn you!
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Running
Holy mother of God. Where once I had regular, non-flamey thigh muscles, now I have two large, frayed elastic bands which appear to be ON FIRE.
On Sunday the 14th October I went down to Manchester with some people from the gym (Ally, Marty, Graham and Wee Mark) to watch Master Sken's Supershow. Always a big event in the Muay Thai calender, I wasn't really too bothered about the specifics of who was fighting because I don't *really* care, I just love to watch fights. However, one of ours, Chris Polley was fighting full rules against Alix James and since some folk on the net were convinced this would be a walk in the park for Alix, we were all keen to go along and watch them realise the error of their ways.
Chris is a fantastic fighter - aggressive but composed, really unique style and incredibly fit, and since he'd just come back from Thailand we knew it would be a stormer and we weren't disappointed. He easily dominated rounds one and two, but since it was a 5 rounder and Thai judging scores rounds 1 and 2 of a 5 round fight equally, the first 2 rounds wouldn't normally make a massive difference to the outcome of the fight. However, he opened up quite a nice cut on his opponent's eyebrow in round 2, so that may have had an impact on the scores in Chris's favour.
Round 3, as Ally put it, was like something out of Rocky - Chris took two standing eights which could quite easily have cost him the fight, but his performance in rounds 4 and 5 was epic and he won the fight convincingly and against the odds.
His face looked a wee bit mashed afterwards, but he said he felt he could easily have fought another 2 or 3 rounds if he'd had to, and in light of this and my disappointing performance last week, I've thoroughly inspired to take up running. Alot.
For some reason I'm convinced I hate running, but in actual fact, if the last couple of days are anything to go by, I actually rather enjoy it. It reminds me of being a kid again in the Highlands when it's windy and rainy, and when it's sunny I get this sense of elation from being outside and listening to my favourite music.
Anyway, I asked Chris what he does to prepare for a fight, and apparently he goes running 8 or 9 times a week in addition to his Muay Thai training.
This is just a teeeeeny bit more than I do.
It's about 8 or 9 more runs a week than I've been doing, actually. So yesterday a new era dawned, and I went running round Arthur's Seat in the wind a rain and felt high as a kite afterwards, in addition to the 10 miles I cycled and the hour of training.
Today, my thighs feel as previously described: ouchy. But that's beside the point - I feel more positive, I feel like if I can keep this up for the next 6 weeks I'll mostly be keeeeking some bott at my next fight.
All I need to do is re-read this post every single morning at 5.30 when I need to get up for a run, because I can absolutely guarantee that this is not how I will be feeling when I have to run around Edinburgh in the, cold, wet nasty winter mornings which lurk just around the corner...
In light of this I am making a public pledge and I invite anyone who reads my blog to call me on it regularly and question/hassle/mock me about my running.
I, Aarayan, hereby solomnly swear that I will get up and go for a run at 5.30am every monday, wednesday and friday morning, and that I will also go for a really good run on a Thursday night because there's no training. Furthermore, I swear that at least 2 of those runs will include nasty shit like hill spints and steps. I promise this on pain of mockery and poor performance in the ring.
Watch this space...
On Sunday the 14th October I went down to Manchester with some people from the gym (Ally, Marty, Graham and Wee Mark) to watch Master Sken's Supershow. Always a big event in the Muay Thai calender, I wasn't really too bothered about the specifics of who was fighting because I don't *really* care, I just love to watch fights. However, one of ours, Chris Polley was fighting full rules against Alix James and since some folk on the net were convinced this would be a walk in the park for Alix, we were all keen to go along and watch them realise the error of their ways.
Chris is a fantastic fighter - aggressive but composed, really unique style and incredibly fit, and since he'd just come back from Thailand we knew it would be a stormer and we weren't disappointed. He easily dominated rounds one and two, but since it was a 5 rounder and Thai judging scores rounds 1 and 2 of a 5 round fight equally, the first 2 rounds wouldn't normally make a massive difference to the outcome of the fight. However, he opened up quite a nice cut on his opponent's eyebrow in round 2, so that may have had an impact on the scores in Chris's favour.
Round 3, as Ally put it, was like something out of Rocky - Chris took two standing eights which could quite easily have cost him the fight, but his performance in rounds 4 and 5 was epic and he won the fight convincingly and against the odds.
His face looked a wee bit mashed afterwards, but he said he felt he could easily have fought another 2 or 3 rounds if he'd had to, and in light of this and my disappointing performance last week, I've thoroughly inspired to take up running. Alot.
For some reason I'm convinced I hate running, but in actual fact, if the last couple of days are anything to go by, I actually rather enjoy it. It reminds me of being a kid again in the Highlands when it's windy and rainy, and when it's sunny I get this sense of elation from being outside and listening to my favourite music.
Anyway, I asked Chris what he does to prepare for a fight, and apparently he goes running 8 or 9 times a week in addition to his Muay Thai training.
This is just a teeeeeny bit more than I do.
It's about 8 or 9 more runs a week than I've been doing, actually. So yesterday a new era dawned, and I went running round Arthur's Seat in the wind a rain and felt high as a kite afterwards, in addition to the 10 miles I cycled and the hour of training.
Today, my thighs feel as previously described: ouchy. But that's beside the point - I feel more positive, I feel like if I can keep this up for the next 6 weeks I'll mostly be keeeeking some bott at my next fight.
All I need to do is re-read this post every single morning at 5.30 when I need to get up for a run, because I can absolutely guarantee that this is not how I will be feeling when I have to run around Edinburgh in the, cold, wet nasty winter mornings which lurk just around the corner...
In light of this I am making a public pledge and I invite anyone who reads my blog to call me on it regularly and question/hassle/mock me about my running.
I, Aarayan, hereby solomnly swear that I will get up and go for a run at 5.30am every monday, wednesday and friday morning, and that I will also go for a really good run on a Thursday night because there's no training. Furthermore, I swear that at least 2 of those runs will include nasty shit like hill spints and steps. I promise this on pain of mockery and poor performance in the ring.
Watch this space...
Friday, July 06, 2007
Tourism, at long last.
I've got a plan. On saturday the 14th I don't have to train because the fight is on Monday and I'm supposed to have a rest. So, rather than resting in the *traditional* sense, I'm going to go and visit an elephant conservation park for the day and learn about feeding and bathing elephants. I'm going to do this all on my own, because *I*....... am a brave little soldier. My mum should be proud. I even have a waterproof camera, so I can take pictures of big, wet elephants right up close :)
I'm also this Sunday going to go to see a temple in Chiang Mai with Ben from the gym and go to the night bazaar and get some souveniers, so it's tourism all round, really. Finally! Some pictures of something other than Muay Thai!
In other news, it has been decided that my fight will be 5 x 3 rounds, full rules (since they all are here) and Tim assures me the girl wont be tooooooooo tiny (maybe 5kg lighter) but will have a few fights experience to make up for the deficit (but not, like, 200 or anything). At any rate, he assures me she wont be "embarrassingly small", which is good. The last thing I want is just to beat up a tiny little woman.
Everybody seems to think it's going to be a walk in the park for me, and she'll take one look at my relatively massive, Western self and go "ooooh, I fell down! I'm KO'd" about 2 minutes in. I hope that doesn't happen, I want it to be fair, and I want it to be a proper experience which I can learn something from - I'd rather lose in a fair fight, and feel that I did my best than win unfairly.
So, I am attempting to lose at least 1kg this coming week, so that I come home at 63kg, and if I could lose 2kg then so much the better, and so I bid farewell to pad thai, to khao pad, and to sticky rice, and usher in a new dawn of yoghurt, fruit, boiled rice with chicken, and soup....
...and banana rotee. Of course, still banana rotee :)
I'm also this Sunday going to go to see a temple in Chiang Mai with Ben from the gym and go to the night bazaar and get some souveniers, so it's tourism all round, really. Finally! Some pictures of something other than Muay Thai!
In other news, it has been decided that my fight will be 5 x 3 rounds, full rules (since they all are here) and Tim assures me the girl wont be tooooooooo tiny (maybe 5kg lighter) but will have a few fights experience to make up for the deficit (but not, like, 200 or anything). At any rate, he assures me she wont be "embarrassingly small", which is good. The last thing I want is just to beat up a tiny little woman.
Everybody seems to think it's going to be a walk in the park for me, and she'll take one look at my relatively massive, Western self and go "ooooh, I fell down! I'm KO'd" about 2 minutes in. I hope that doesn't happen, I want it to be fair, and I want it to be a proper experience which I can learn something from - I'd rather lose in a fair fight, and feel that I did my best than win unfairly.
So, I am attempting to lose at least 1kg this coming week, so that I come home at 63kg, and if I could lose 2kg then so much the better, and so I bid farewell to pad thai, to khao pad, and to sticky rice, and usher in a new dawn of yoghurt, fruit, boiled rice with chicken, and soup....
...and banana rotee. Of course, still banana rotee :)
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Banana Rotee is made by God.
Handily, or perhaps unfortunately, for me, God has a little cart at the top of the road where she makes and sells this heavenly dish....uh-oh.
Banana rotee, for those philistines amongst you who don't know, is basically chopped banana, mixed with egg and condensed milk, fried in an egg-based, thin pastry-type casing, and all folded in on itself, fried more and then, when it's all lovely and crispy and golden (and at this point about 8mm thick and the size of a paper-back book in length and width), chopped into bite-sized chunks, covered in more condensed milk and sugar.
Oh. God. Yes.
What's that?.... Did I lose weight in Thailand?...... Um......
What else is new. I've been introduced to the food market in Nongghoy, which is the suburb of Chiang Mai in which I'm staying, and it's a fabulous place. There's loads of tiny little stalls, each selling something different, like pad thai (stir fry), khao pad (fried rice), barbequed meats like pork (muu), chicken (gai), duck (yaang) etc, seafood, all sorts of yummy things in different formats and different combinations. Also, there are plenty of stalls selling sweets and fruit, and for some reason the fruit here is amazingly sweet - pineapple tastes totallt different, and the watermelon is fantastic. Jealous? ;p
Training is still much the same, very different, not always as hard as I expected, and I hate running, so very very much. So much. However, at least running at home will be easier, because it wont be 30 degrees. That's going to be enough of an improvement.
Other than that, I have some hopes to perhaps go to the zoo at the weekend, or visit Doi Suthep if I can convince someone to come with me - I need to have been a tourist at least once before I leave!
I'm trying to get some pictures up for you, but it's a bit of a nightmare - keep checking Flickr, there'll be something tomorrow or the day after, come hell or high water......
Aarayan x
Banana rotee, for those philistines amongst you who don't know, is basically chopped banana, mixed with egg and condensed milk, fried in an egg-based, thin pastry-type casing, and all folded in on itself, fried more and then, when it's all lovely and crispy and golden (and at this point about 8mm thick and the size of a paper-back book in length and width), chopped into bite-sized chunks, covered in more condensed milk and sugar.
Oh. God. Yes.
What's that?.... Did I lose weight in Thailand?...... Um......
What else is new. I've been introduced to the food market in Nongghoy, which is the suburb of Chiang Mai in which I'm staying, and it's a fabulous place. There's loads of tiny little stalls, each selling something different, like pad thai (stir fry), khao pad (fried rice), barbequed meats like pork (muu), chicken (gai), duck (yaang) etc, seafood, all sorts of yummy things in different formats and different combinations. Also, there are plenty of stalls selling sweets and fruit, and for some reason the fruit here is amazingly sweet - pineapple tastes totallt different, and the watermelon is fantastic. Jealous? ;p
Training is still much the same, very different, not always as hard as I expected, and I hate running, so very very much. So much. However, at least running at home will be easier, because it wont be 30 degrees. That's going to be enough of an improvement.
Other than that, I have some hopes to perhaps go to the zoo at the weekend, or visit Doi Suthep if I can convince someone to come with me - I need to have been a tourist at least once before I leave!
I'm trying to get some pictures up for you, but it's a bit of a nightmare - keep checking Flickr, there'll be something tomorrow or the day after, come hell or high water......
Aarayan x
Friday, June 29, 2007
Long, hot days
Training is ticking along nicely - I'm learning so much, particularly in the clinch, and my kicking technique has improved a shitload, it's fab. I didn't make it along to training this morning because I was feeling pretty rubbish with a sore throat and a sore stomache, so I'm hoping the throat will clear up quickly and not develop into anything too sinister. I actually managed to sleep all night, too, which was both big *and* clever, as usually I wake up every hour or two to switch the air conditioning on, then off, then on, then off....
At about 7am what sounds like a convoy of articulated lorries appears to roar through my bedroom, but it's just the Thais starting to head off to work outside on their phalanx of mopeds and trucks and cars, but it's pretty bloody loud, so that acts as an effective wake-up call. Today, however, I slept (with difficulty, but someone's gotta do it) until about 10.30, then took a wander up the road to find tesco, buy some fruit and rent a DVD to watch in the afternoon. I lay around drinking OJ, eating Chinese pears and watching an o.k. sort of Robin Williams movie (The Good Guy - doesn't warrant a review), ate lunch, collected laundry and went to training. So it's not terribly exciting alot of the time, and this is why I don't have many pictures. So far, I've taken 3 pictures of geckos, and 5 pictures of what my room looks like......sad.
Anyway, I'm going to try and force innocent bystanders to come and do touristy things with me, like ride an elephant or something, so I've got some good pictures - I'm very selfless like that.... or incredibly selfish, not sure which...
In other news, I went to watch some fights last night - Pedro from the gym was having his first fight and we all went along to support. It's alot different from fights at home: weight disparity doesn't seem to be much of an issue, and neither is experience by the looks of things, since Pedro, for his first fight, after training for only 3 months, fought a Thai with over 60 fights, and there were several wildly mismatched fights throughout the night. Makes a good show for the spectators, but it's not much fun for the fighters...
Also, they don't seem to care nearly as much about who actually wins - the ref seems to decide, just holds the winner's hand up and that's that - no big fuss like at home, with build ups, and 3 judges, and trophies for the loser, or even the winner. Mind you, they do all get paid. About 30 quid.
But it was a good atmosphere, and interesting, and when Dave fights on Monday I'll take my camera along and get some good pictures for the sharing thereof, have no fear.
Now it's the late hour of 8pm, and time to go home, eat a pear and read my book until I fall asleep, ready for training in 12 hours time.
Take it easy, speak to you soon
Aarayan x
At about 7am what sounds like a convoy of articulated lorries appears to roar through my bedroom, but it's just the Thais starting to head off to work outside on their phalanx of mopeds and trucks and cars, but it's pretty bloody loud, so that acts as an effective wake-up call. Today, however, I slept (with difficulty, but someone's gotta do it) until about 10.30, then took a wander up the road to find tesco, buy some fruit and rent a DVD to watch in the afternoon. I lay around drinking OJ, eating Chinese pears and watching an o.k. sort of Robin Williams movie (The Good Guy - doesn't warrant a review), ate lunch, collected laundry and went to training. So it's not terribly exciting alot of the time, and this is why I don't have many pictures. So far, I've taken 3 pictures of geckos, and 5 pictures of what my room looks like......sad.
Anyway, I'm going to try and force innocent bystanders to come and do touristy things with me, like ride an elephant or something, so I've got some good pictures - I'm very selfless like that.... or incredibly selfish, not sure which...
In other news, I went to watch some fights last night - Pedro from the gym was having his first fight and we all went along to support. It's alot different from fights at home: weight disparity doesn't seem to be much of an issue, and neither is experience by the looks of things, since Pedro, for his first fight, after training for only 3 months, fought a Thai with over 60 fights, and there were several wildly mismatched fights throughout the night. Makes a good show for the spectators, but it's not much fun for the fighters...
Also, they don't seem to care nearly as much about who actually wins - the ref seems to decide, just holds the winner's hand up and that's that - no big fuss like at home, with build ups, and 3 judges, and trophies for the loser, or even the winner. Mind you, they do all get paid. About 30 quid.
But it was a good atmosphere, and interesting, and when Dave fights on Monday I'll take my camera along and get some good pictures for the sharing thereof, have no fear.
Now it's the late hour of 8pm, and time to go home, eat a pear and read my book until I fall asleep, ready for training in 12 hours time.
Take it easy, speak to you soon
Aarayan x
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Sawatdee Ka!
Hey guys,
just a quick update to let you know that I've arrived safe and sound in the land of smiles, I'm set up with a place to stay, and I've started training at the gym. I've not got time just now to upload any photos, and to be fair I don't have many yet - I've mostly been sleeping and training today and yesterday, so I've only got pictures of my room.
The journey here was pretty epic, and I'm glad I'm only going to have to do that once more - it took a full 27 hours from waking up on Monday to arriving in Chiang Mai, and I didn't sleep for any of it. On the plus side, Qatar airline who I flew with from Gatwick to Doha and Doha to Bangkok do a decent range of fims and you can pick what you want to watch. I just hope they've changed them by the time I head back since I watched just about all of them.
So I arrived in Chiang Mai and got a taxi to the gym where I was met by Noom, who showed me a guest house just opposite, I got unpacked, had a shower and had a wee nap for an hour before heading out to training for the evening.
It's completely different from the way we do things at home, obviously- you start out with a run which is supposed to be about 5k, but I only did 1 lap yesterday, so about 1.5k, since I was knackered. Then you go with one of the trainers in the ring for a few rounds of doublepads, which is thoroughly knackered but really improves your technique no end. Mind you I'll have to stop doing half of it when I get home since some of it's wildly different from the way we do things, but anyway. Then either shadowboxing or bagwork, and back in the ring for grappling and technique work. Technique is bloody hard, becuase they're asking you to body kick their hands without pads, so you can't go hard, but they want me to relax - I find it very hard to relax when I'm kicking a Thai stranger and trying to be gentle about it.... Then it's situps in the ring and you're all done. If you're me, at some point someone will also weigh you and then laugh/look disturbed/tell you you have to weigh 55kilos (What?! Lose 10k in 3 weeks?!) - we'll just have to see about that, I'm only human.
So, All that takes about 2.5 or 3 hours and then you go an eat something from one of the many little outdoor restaurants. There's one near where I'm staying and I just go there because the food is amazing, and the nice man understands I don't speak Thai and just cooks me something different every day.
Today's training was mental - it was really quiet so one of the trainers just took my in the ring for literally about 2 hours - one on one training: exhausting but fantastic.
This evening Dave of Hammerhead Gym very kindly came and picked me up on his moped and took me for a ride into town to have a look around the night market and change my traveller's cheques. The Thai's are insane when it comes to driving - think "traffic lights are guides, not rules", marry this with a lack of speed limits and you've got some fun conditions. I'm definitely going to have to bring home some nice gifts from the market (once I learn how to barter - Paul knows how badly I suck at this), lots of pretty, touristy tat :)
Anyway, it's been a very long day, and it's time to go to sleep, so I'll bid you adieu and I'll get some photos uploaded when I have some to show.
Fann dee
Aarayan x
just a quick update to let you know that I've arrived safe and sound in the land of smiles, I'm set up with a place to stay, and I've started training at the gym. I've not got time just now to upload any photos, and to be fair I don't have many yet - I've mostly been sleeping and training today and yesterday, so I've only got pictures of my room.
The journey here was pretty epic, and I'm glad I'm only going to have to do that once more - it took a full 27 hours from waking up on Monday to arriving in Chiang Mai, and I didn't sleep for any of it. On the plus side, Qatar airline who I flew with from Gatwick to Doha and Doha to Bangkok do a decent range of fims and you can pick what you want to watch. I just hope they've changed them by the time I head back since I watched just about all of them.
So I arrived in Chiang Mai and got a taxi to the gym where I was met by Noom, who showed me a guest house just opposite, I got unpacked, had a shower and had a wee nap for an hour before heading out to training for the evening.
It's completely different from the way we do things at home, obviously- you start out with a run which is supposed to be about 5k, but I only did 1 lap yesterday, so about 1.5k, since I was knackered. Then you go with one of the trainers in the ring for a few rounds of doublepads, which is thoroughly knackered but really improves your technique no end. Mind you I'll have to stop doing half of it when I get home since some of it's wildly different from the way we do things, but anyway. Then either shadowboxing or bagwork, and back in the ring for grappling and technique work. Technique is bloody hard, becuase they're asking you to body kick their hands without pads, so you can't go hard, but they want me to relax - I find it very hard to relax when I'm kicking a Thai stranger and trying to be gentle about it.... Then it's situps in the ring and you're all done. If you're me, at some point someone will also weigh you and then laugh/look disturbed/tell you you have to weigh 55kilos (What?! Lose 10k in 3 weeks?!) - we'll just have to see about that, I'm only human.
So, All that takes about 2.5 or 3 hours and then you go an eat something from one of the many little outdoor restaurants. There's one near where I'm staying and I just go there because the food is amazing, and the nice man understands I don't speak Thai and just cooks me something different every day.
Today's training was mental - it was really quiet so one of the trainers just took my in the ring for literally about 2 hours - one on one training: exhausting but fantastic.
This evening Dave of Hammerhead Gym very kindly came and picked me up on his moped and took me for a ride into town to have a look around the night market and change my traveller's cheques. The Thai's are insane when it comes to driving - think "traffic lights are guides, not rules", marry this with a lack of speed limits and you've got some fun conditions. I'm definitely going to have to bring home some nice gifts from the market (once I learn how to barter - Paul knows how badly I suck at this), lots of pretty, touristy tat :)
Anyway, it's been a very long day, and it's time to go to sleep, so I'll bid you adieu and I'll get some photos uploaded when I have some to show.
Fann dee
Aarayan x
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Here we go...
Hullo to those of you who I've just informed about my blog so you can see what I'm up to in Thailand! I'm very embarrassed to have written most of the crap I've written, so please don't mock me too mercilessly, or at least wait until I'm out of earshot.
And Mum? I'm sorry, but I do swear- a fair bit. Please forgive me.
So, it's now officially the day after tomorrow that I head off, and I'm well on my way towards being prepared - I have piles and piles of clothes on my study floor which I'm going to pack tomorrow, and carefully tick off the list I made earlier in the week so I don't forget anything vital. I've got my tickets, I've got my money and travellers cheques, I've got a whole bunch of stuff I'll never need but seems important now, I've got travel insurance, at a whopping £62 for 3 weeks cover. I rang up the company and said:
Me: I need comprehensive insurance. I'm going to Thailand to do Thai Kickboxing
Her: That's fine, you're covered for that with this package.
Right, but just so you know, I'm going to be training full time. I intend to be getting into a ring on a daily basis and potentially volunteering to get punched in the head. Am I still covered?
Yup, you're covered.
So you're saying that if I deliberately get smacked in the face, doing a martial art, and need hospital treatment you'll pay? And further more, if I accidentally mortally wound someone else, and *they* require hospital treatment, you'll cover their treatment *and* my legal costs, even though I was doing a martial art, on purpose, for fun?
Yup, pretty much, and if you die we pay out £5,000,000
....and you'll require *proof* of death, I suppose.....?
So, if I don't make it back from Thailand in one piece, don't mourn too much- I'll probably be "dead" on a beach somewhere on a tropical island. Either that or Paul will have bumped me off, he'll be on the beach, and I'll expect you to avenge me.
I'll update the blog and get pictures up for you regularly, here, so you can all reflect regularly on how much you hate me, and how you wish you were in Thailand instead, whilst looking at handy visual aids to really make the jealousy burn ;)
On second thoughts, I'm starting to think I shouldn't have told you about the insurance pay out.... not before I mocked you, anyway. Bugger.
Keep in touch, leave me comments, and I'll see you in three weeks!
Love,
Aarayan
And Mum? I'm sorry, but I do swear- a fair bit. Please forgive me.
So, it's now officially the day after tomorrow that I head off, and I'm well on my way towards being prepared - I have piles and piles of clothes on my study floor which I'm going to pack tomorrow, and carefully tick off the list I made earlier in the week so I don't forget anything vital. I've got my tickets, I've got my money and travellers cheques, I've got a whole bunch of stuff I'll never need but seems important now, I've got travel insurance, at a whopping £62 for 3 weeks cover. I rang up the company and said:
Me: I need comprehensive insurance. I'm going to Thailand to do Thai Kickboxing
Her: That's fine, you're covered for that with this package.
Right, but just so you know, I'm going to be training full time. I intend to be getting into a ring on a daily basis and potentially volunteering to get punched in the head. Am I still covered?
Yup, you're covered.
So you're saying that if I deliberately get smacked in the face, doing a martial art, and need hospital treatment you'll pay? And further more, if I accidentally mortally wound someone else, and *they* require hospital treatment, you'll cover their treatment *and* my legal costs, even though I was doing a martial art, on purpose, for fun?
Yup, pretty much, and if you die we pay out £5,000,000
....and you'll require *proof* of death, I suppose.....?
So, if I don't make it back from Thailand in one piece, don't mourn too much- I'll probably be "dead" on a beach somewhere on a tropical island. Either that or Paul will have bumped me off, he'll be on the beach, and I'll expect you to avenge me.
I'll update the blog and get pictures up for you regularly, here, so you can all reflect regularly on how much you hate me, and how you wish you were in Thailand instead, whilst looking at handy visual aids to really make the jealousy burn ;)
On second thoughts, I'm starting to think I shouldn't have told you about the insurance pay out.... not before I mocked you, anyway. Bugger.
Keep in touch, leave me comments, and I'll see you in three weeks!
Love,
Aarayan
Monday, June 18, 2007
The end of an era...
Thank Fuck.
Ding Dong, Moray House is dead! I've finally finished the course after a mind-bogglingly awful 9 months, and I am most, most pleased. (I passed, by the way)
My final placement went very well, thank you, the school was lovely, the kids were lovely, the teacher was.....very helpful... and the management were friendly, competent and approachable- what more can you ask? Obviously, what with the fight training and the ridiculous work-load for uni, and teaching full time as well I was mostly made out of stress, and it's nothing short of a miracle that I still have a husband in tow (bless his little, antibacterial cotton socks which my Gran gave him for Christmas. Two years in a row. Insulting, much?).
I developed a habit of crying at entirely random moments in the evening, throwing childish tantrums about ridiculous things, like having to go to the shop to buy dinner because Paul had forgotten ("It's just not bloody fair - why is life so shite?!"), and becoming hysterical at movies which should technically be, if not funny, not actually psychologically scarring...
We watched "Click", that Adam Sandler movie about a guy that gets a Universal Remote and, guess what, it remote controls....THE UNIVERSE! Surely a recipe for comedy japes and misunderstandings, but in a calm, controlled, non-perilous way. And it was, unless you're quite nicely teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown, in which case the whole moral of the story about a guy who wishes his life away a died, alone, unfulfilled and regretful (and fat) in the rain is just a bit....too close to the bone. So I had a proper, wailing, uncontrolled crying fit for about half an hour, emitting strange snorts, squeaks and mangles "I don't want to die!"s so that in the end I was laughing as much as crying and laughing at the crying and crying at the laughing in a horrible, snotty cycle of stupidness. Paul, however, thought it was hilarious, which is pretty handy.
Anyway, the long and the short of it is that the placement went as well as could be expected, my final presentation went quite a bit less well than could be expected, (doing me out of an Distinction which I wasn't really bothered about but felt like I ought to try for) and the fight didn't happen at all.
Which I was naturally not too pleased about, in light of the whole working-myself-into-the-ground thing I mentioned above, but sadly that's just the way it goes sometimes. Remember I said there were many reasons not to get overexcited about a fight, because at any moment it just might not happen... well the most common reason happened, and she pulled out at the last minute. But, thankfully, she pulled out for a reason which at least makes people go ".....huh?!" when I tell them. She became "unfocussed" (just all of a sudden, apparently...) and decided to elope to the States with her girlfriend. Plausible *and* fun! I acted like a mardy cow for the day, had a shitty time and, showing my stylish nature, encouraged everyone to join me in my lovely pit of self-pity - nice.
However, there will (presumably) be other fights, and I will certainly get pulled out on again many more times, and I'll just have to get better at dealing with it, because that's the way it works sometimes. With a bit of luck I might get my first fight in Thailand, which will certainly be an experience (don't, for God's sake, tell my travel insurance people...)
So that's the next big thing - one week from today I will be merrily winging my way to Thailand, and by "merrily winging my way" I do of course mean that I will be terrified, self-doubting, and constantly checking that I have my passport, I'm on the right flight, and I am actually who I think I am - I usually am, but it's prudent to check from time to time.
One week and counting guys - yipes!
Ding Dong, Moray House is dead! I've finally finished the course after a mind-bogglingly awful 9 months, and I am most, most pleased. (I passed, by the way)
My final placement went very well, thank you, the school was lovely, the kids were lovely, the teacher was.....very helpful... and the management were friendly, competent and approachable- what more can you ask? Obviously, what with the fight training and the ridiculous work-load for uni, and teaching full time as well I was mostly made out of stress, and it's nothing short of a miracle that I still have a husband in tow (bless his little, antibacterial cotton socks which my Gran gave him for Christmas. Two years in a row. Insulting, much?).
I developed a habit of crying at entirely random moments in the evening, throwing childish tantrums about ridiculous things, like having to go to the shop to buy dinner because Paul had forgotten ("It's just not bloody fair - why is life so shite?!"), and becoming hysterical at movies which should technically be, if not funny, not actually psychologically scarring...
We watched "Click", that Adam Sandler movie about a guy that gets a Universal Remote and, guess what, it remote controls....THE UNIVERSE! Surely a recipe for comedy japes and misunderstandings, but in a calm, controlled, non-perilous way. And it was, unless you're quite nicely teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown, in which case the whole moral of the story about a guy who wishes his life away a died, alone, unfulfilled and regretful (and fat) in the rain is just a bit....too close to the bone. So I had a proper, wailing, uncontrolled crying fit for about half an hour, emitting strange snorts, squeaks and mangles "I don't want to die!"s so that in the end I was laughing as much as crying and laughing at the crying and crying at the laughing in a horrible, snotty cycle of stupidness. Paul, however, thought it was hilarious, which is pretty handy.
Anyway, the long and the short of it is that the placement went as well as could be expected, my final presentation went quite a bit less well than could be expected, (doing me out of an Distinction which I wasn't really bothered about but felt like I ought to try for) and the fight didn't happen at all.
Which I was naturally not too pleased about, in light of the whole working-myself-into-the-ground thing I mentioned above, but sadly that's just the way it goes sometimes. Remember I said there were many reasons not to get overexcited about a fight, because at any moment it just might not happen... well the most common reason happened, and she pulled out at the last minute. But, thankfully, she pulled out for a reason which at least makes people go ".....huh?!" when I tell them. She became "unfocussed" (just all of a sudden, apparently...) and decided to elope to the States with her girlfriend. Plausible *and* fun! I acted like a mardy cow for the day, had a shitty time and, showing my stylish nature, encouraged everyone to join me in my lovely pit of self-pity - nice.
However, there will (presumably) be other fights, and I will certainly get pulled out on again many more times, and I'll just have to get better at dealing with it, because that's the way it works sometimes. With a bit of luck I might get my first fight in Thailand, which will certainly be an experience (don't, for God's sake, tell my travel insurance people...)
So that's the next big thing - one week from today I will be merrily winging my way to Thailand, and by "merrily winging my way" I do of course mean that I will be terrified, self-doubting, and constantly checking that I have my passport, I'm on the right flight, and I am actually who I think I am - I usually am, but it's prudent to check from time to time.
One week and counting guys - yipes!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Holy Mother of God
Ok, ok: it was *my* idea. I *asked* to be allowed to do it - I even pestered to be allowed to do it. I know this. However, now that I am definitely on for my fight at the end of May I am, how shall I say...shitting bricks. On Sunday 27th May, I will be having my first ever Muay Thai fight, down in Manchester at this 'ere show:
(I personally think each and every one of you who reads this should come and shout me on. Or form a protective barrier around me so I can run away in safety...)
It'll be a C-class fight - the lowest of the low, apart from amateur fights where they wear padding - and it'll consist of three rounds, each lasting two minutes (C Class 3x2, in case you ever see that written down and wonder what the hell it means). I'll be wearing probably 10oz boxing gloves, and a mouth guard for protection and that's all. Well, obviously I'll be wearing Thai shorts and a sports bra, otherwise it's just porn, but you get my drift.
So now comes the Rocky-style training montage, because I've got 4 weeks, I've been out of training for 3 weeks, my fitness is down, my weight is up and I'm a big, fat chicken... Running and weight loss = things I hate to do, but I'll be doing ALOT of this over the coming month, and just you wait, I might even post some technicolour pictures of my bruises. But only if you're very, very good.....
In addition to this, anyone who is in Edinburgh and who wishes to be my friend MUST come to this show - it is compulsory and will count towards your final grade in my Friendship exam:
Do it!
(I personally think each and every one of you who reads this should come and shout me on. Or form a protective barrier around me so I can run away in safety...)
It'll be a C-class fight - the lowest of the low, apart from amateur fights where they wear padding - and it'll consist of three rounds, each lasting two minutes (C Class 3x2, in case you ever see that written down and wonder what the hell it means). I'll be wearing probably 10oz boxing gloves, and a mouth guard for protection and that's all. Well, obviously I'll be wearing Thai shorts and a sports bra, otherwise it's just porn, but you get my drift.
So now comes the Rocky-style training montage, because I've got 4 weeks, I've been out of training for 3 weeks, my fitness is down, my weight is up and I'm a big, fat chicken... Running and weight loss = things I hate to do, but I'll be doing ALOT of this over the coming month, and just you wait, I might even post some technicolour pictures of my bruises. But only if you're very, very good.....
In addition to this, anyone who is in Edinburgh and who wishes to be my friend MUST come to this show - it is compulsory and will count towards your final grade in my Friendship exam:
Do it!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
The Final Countdown
I have an essay due on Tuesday - 3000 words on Curriculum, Teaching and Assessment, theory and practice of Environmental Studies and Expressive Arts. Yep, it's pretty boring. And, as usual, I'm procrastinating like nothing on earth, so it is for this reason that I set the following challenge:
I want to create an Ultimate Cheesy Training Soundtrack, filled with the sorts of tracks which you'd expect to accompany a Rocky training montage. So far I've got:
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
The Final Countdown - Europe
Hero - Bonny Tyler
Gold - Spandau Ballet
Going the Distance - Rocky Theme Tune
So, come on guys - rise to the challenge.....Your country needs you!
Sarah xx
I want to create an Ultimate Cheesy Training Soundtrack, filled with the sorts of tracks which you'd expect to accompany a Rocky training montage. So far I've got:
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
The Final Countdown - Europe
Hero - Bonny Tyler
Gold - Spandau Ballet
Going the Distance - Rocky Theme Tune
So, come on guys - rise to the challenge.....Your country needs you!
Sarah xx
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Normal(ish) Service Resumed
Finally, after a whole lifetime-long 23 days away from training, I'm finally back at class! I'm suffused with a warm, glowey all-is-right-with-the-world sense of bliss.This is in direct contrast to the presiding emotion of the last few days, which has been one of "AAAAARGGGGHHHHHH! BLARGYBLARGHYBLARGHHHHHHH!!!!"
It's not something I have any place writing about, except to say I think things are looking up and I think I probably have the best friends in the whole world and I am very, very lucky.
You guys rock
Sunday, March 11, 2007
A period of inactivity
Following my recent and sustained period of blogging inactivity, I've decided to start writing more regularly because now, ladies and gents......I've been matched for a fight! This means that although I will have plenty to talk about, it will probably all be about bruises, weight, more bruises and my all consuming fear.
Being matched for a fight is an interesting process because there are alot of factors which need to be taken into consideration and which can throw you off course.
Weight, for one. You have to be the same weight as your opponent, so you agree a fighting weight before-hand and then both do whatever you have to do to make sure you're that weight on the day. Now, on the 1st of January I weighed 73.7kgs (which is 11 stone 8.2 for those of you still on imperial, like me), and I'm fighting on the 27th May at 63kg, (which is 9 stone 12.6). Now, whichever way you look at it, that is alot of weight to lose. ALOT.
So this is Issue number one: Being the right weight. If you are not this, you will probably not fight. Today, inexplicably I am 10 stone 8, even though on Friday I was 10 stone 5. Bastards.
Assuming, then, that you're doing OK on the soul-crushing calorie-controlled diet, there's no guarantee that your opponent is as well...
Issue number 2: Pull-outs
Pull-outs happen all the time especially, for some reason, in female fights. I've been matched once before and she pulled out, apparently due to weight, and my friend Ann has now been matched 3 times for the same fight, which has failed to happen twice for various reasons, so there's no point getting too excited until a bit nearer the time.
Of course, not getting excited doesn't mean not training like a crazy-lady, you have to do that anyway, but that's another thing which can go wrong...
Issue number 3: Injury
I get injured alot. Often, even. With monotonous regularity. All over. I've only had to miss training twice because of injury, and only because I physically couldn't train, but nevertheless, a broken hand or foot, a dyslocation, something along those lines would be bad news. So far I've torn the ligaments in my ankle twice, hyperextended my elbow, trapped a nerve in my back, had a sacro-illiac strain and broken a toe, and haven't even fought yet. Also, I bruise like a peach. So much so that I look more like I enjoy baiting Neds on a Friday night before helpfully handing them a baseball bat each than that I practice martial arts in a safe, controlled, consenting environment.
Last, but certainly not least:
Issue number 4: Getting the screaming heebie-jeebies.
This is not a medical term. I've never fought before, so whilst I *think* I want to, I don't *know* that yet, never having done it. Most of the time I'm like "Yeah, bitch, bring it on!" and other, not very Edinburgh-sounding phrases. However, occasionally I get an utter pasting at sparring class, can't lie on my side for a week because of poorly placed bruises and I do wonder to myself if it's really such a good idea. Yesterday being a prime example of this "utter pasting" I mentioned above. I graduated up to the Fighters Class for the first time yesterday (this, as the name suggests is a sparring class for people who are fighting soon, so it's harder work, harder contact, harder in general) and whilst I was pretty apprehensive and pretty much expecting to take a beating, I did somewhat under-estimate the situation. Think "baptism of fire", think going with the chief instructor's incredible brilliant wife for the first round and having her go heavy so they can see what happens.
Well, this is absolutely fair enough, and I'm glad to say I reacted like any hard-as-nails female Thai boxer should....
....that's a complete lie. I cried like a girl.
Nevertheless, I'm glad I went, and I'm glad they did that, because you've got to learn sometime. Nobody had ever hit me that hard before, and it hurt like a motherfucker, and I've got bruises (little ones) on my face and bruises (giant ones) all over my legs and hips, but I'd much rather I got used to that in the privacy of the gym rather than got completely taken my surprise for the first time in the ring and made a total arse out of myself.
At the very least, by May 27th I'll be able to take a punch, even if I do look like Rocky.
Being matched for a fight is an interesting process because there are alot of factors which need to be taken into consideration and which can throw you off course.
Weight, for one. You have to be the same weight as your opponent, so you agree a fighting weight before-hand and then both do whatever you have to do to make sure you're that weight on the day. Now, on the 1st of January I weighed 73.7kgs (which is 11 stone 8.2 for those of you still on imperial, like me), and I'm fighting on the 27th May at 63kg, (which is 9 stone 12.6). Now, whichever way you look at it, that is alot of weight to lose. ALOT.
So this is Issue number one: Being the right weight. If you are not this, you will probably not fight. Today, inexplicably I am 10 stone 8, even though on Friday I was 10 stone 5. Bastards.
Assuming, then, that you're doing OK on the soul-crushing calorie-controlled diet, there's no guarantee that your opponent is as well...
Issue number 2: Pull-outs
Pull-outs happen all the time especially, for some reason, in female fights. I've been matched once before and she pulled out, apparently due to weight, and my friend Ann has now been matched 3 times for the same fight, which has failed to happen twice for various reasons, so there's no point getting too excited until a bit nearer the time.
Of course, not getting excited doesn't mean not training like a crazy-lady, you have to do that anyway, but that's another thing which can go wrong...
Issue number 3: Injury
I get injured alot. Often, even. With monotonous regularity. All over. I've only had to miss training twice because of injury, and only because I physically couldn't train, but nevertheless, a broken hand or foot, a dyslocation, something along those lines would be bad news. So far I've torn the ligaments in my ankle twice, hyperextended my elbow, trapped a nerve in my back, had a sacro-illiac strain and broken a toe, and haven't even fought yet. Also, I bruise like a peach. So much so that I look more like I enjoy baiting Neds on a Friday night before helpfully handing them a baseball bat each than that I practice martial arts in a safe, controlled, consenting environment.
Last, but certainly not least:
Issue number 4: Getting the screaming heebie-jeebies.
This is not a medical term. I've never fought before, so whilst I *think* I want to, I don't *know* that yet, never having done it. Most of the time I'm like "Yeah, bitch, bring it on!" and other, not very Edinburgh-sounding phrases. However, occasionally I get an utter pasting at sparring class, can't lie on my side for a week because of poorly placed bruises and I do wonder to myself if it's really such a good idea. Yesterday being a prime example of this "utter pasting" I mentioned above. I graduated up to the Fighters Class for the first time yesterday (this, as the name suggests is a sparring class for people who are fighting soon, so it's harder work, harder contact, harder in general) and whilst I was pretty apprehensive and pretty much expecting to take a beating, I did somewhat under-estimate the situation. Think "baptism of fire", think going with the chief instructor's incredible brilliant wife for the first round and having her go heavy so they can see what happens.
Well, this is absolutely fair enough, and I'm glad to say I reacted like any hard-as-nails female Thai boxer should....
....that's a complete lie. I cried like a girl.
Nevertheless, I'm glad I went, and I'm glad they did that, because you've got to learn sometime. Nobody had ever hit me that hard before, and it hurt like a motherfucker, and I've got bruises (little ones) on my face and bruises (giant ones) all over my legs and hips, but I'd much rather I got used to that in the privacy of the gym rather than got completely taken my surprise for the first time in the ring and made a total arse out of myself.
At the very least, by May 27th I'll be able to take a punch, even if I do look like Rocky.
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