Sore

When your opponent is hard, you are soft. When your opponent is soft, you are softer.

--O Sensei


A few weeks ago, my roommate defended his dissertation, so he's now Dr. Eric. Aside from the fact I need to look for a new roommate, this also means that he had a party to celebrate the end of his indentured servitude. At this party, I met the aikidoka he works out with a couple of times every week. And they learn that I've studied previously.

So they extracted a promise from me: after my oral presentation/examination, I would join the dojo and start training again. My oral exam was Tuesday last week. So, on Thursday, I dawned my gi again, and slapped a mat for a few hours. During the class, and afterwards, I felt great. Blood was flowing through my body, and I had the exhilaration of a workout that is still, in my opinion, second to none. A couple of people even complimented me on my technique, so I guessed that four years off hasn't hurt that much.

Until the next day, that is. I have never been so sore in my entire life. I felt like a truck had parked on my legs for hours while some sadistic drill instructor forced me to do sit ups at some lunatic speed. The mile-long walk to school took me half an hour, which is absolutely way too long. It should only take 20 minutes. I was even sore on Saturday when I went to Neil and Erica's for our Saturday gaming night. Blargh.

I'm OK today, but I'm wondering what Tuesday nights class has in store for me, and what I'll feel like come Wednesday morning. I hope it doesn't take half an hour to get to school again. :)


Brian Naberhuis