filial fighting

last night, for the first time, i worked out in a gym. the instructors are pleasant and they have the looks to show their expertise (next to them, i feel like some pathetic ectoplasm). while the gym's space is somewhat lacking, the equipment and facility are fairly adequate. the people are generally nice to look at because most have clearly been spending some time working out. the instructor started me with chest and triceps workout. he told me that if i want faster toning and definition, i should do more reps and sets than my usual home routine.

 

and so now i can hardly lift my arms (and still a mass of flabs. haha! dream on!).

 

but i like it, and i'll go back for more.

 

back in the good old college days, we would spend 2-3 hours, three times a week, punching, kicking, throwing, and grappling in a so-called martial arts training. it was a small organization, with active members averaging only to ten. for over two years, we've sparred and trained with almost the same group of people, with occasional inter-chapter trainings. having spent that much time together, every punch, kick, throw -- among other sorts of painful exercises -- has developed a certain bond among the us.

 

filial fighting.

 

how hard you hit your sparring partner, how high you throw them in the air, is how much you love them. we were taught not to pull punches if we want our partners to improve and be pushed beyond their limits. we would end each training session tending to each other's bruises.

 

i got punched real hard just days ago, my chest still ache a bit... but i know it's for my own good, and i know that it is out of love.

 

it sucks, though, tending to your bruises on your own. Ü