Last night, I went back to Aikido for the first time since high school. It’s been something like three years since I went, so I was a little nervous about how much I’d forgotten. Luckily, it seems my muscle memory is much more reliable than wherever the hell I stored all the math I reviewed last semester and have already forgotten. With relatively little prompting, I was able to do most of the techniques I’d learned previously much faster than I’d hoped I would. In addition, I could break fall and roll fairly well, considering I barely even stretch on a regular basis. While the white belt (who was excited to think I’d be a newcomer to look him good by comparison) practiced his foot movements, I was getting full on thrown by higher ranked students like I’d never left. It was great…

It was great until I woke up thismorning. Getting thrown onto a padded mat, you don’t feel anything. Fuck up a fall, and you might push the air out of your lungs or take a nasty blunt shock to a joint, but you stand back up and keep going. Repeatedly. I left Aikido feeling exhausted but otherwise fully intact. When I woke up, I thought I’d been hit by a train. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not as young as I was in high school or because my body didn’t have time to ease back into it, but I’m sore all over and at least a little concerned about how back, shoulder, and leg pain will impede my cardio workout this evening.

So I’m sitting here at work, nursing a medium coffee and wishing I had something stronger to take the edge off my injuries. I think I may stop by a drug store for a bottle of asprin before I head to the gym.