As a boxer, wrestler, and martial artist (I hold a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and Wing Chun), I’ve gotten used to the injuries that come with these combative, and rough and tough sports, especially since I only train with males. Over the years I’ve had a black eye, a broken foot, cracked ribs, bruises, cuts, and scrapes all over my body, and a back injury that sidelined me from training for four years since I refused to get surgery. As I aged, I never once questioned that maybe I should give up these sports and take up something a bit gentler, like knitting.
So, at age forty-eight, I was really determined to test my body, my mind, and my spirit by taking up MMA (mixed martial arts). This brutal form of martial arts includes Muay Thai, which consists of punches, kicks, knees, and elbows strikes, and jiujitsu, which consists of wrestling, grappling, and submissions. Since I have my own program called Fit to Fight Warriors, which is a self-defense program for females ages ten to seventy, I knew MMA was how I should be training in order to teach females the most effective techniques to protect themselves against rape, sexual assault, or domestic violence.
I found a wonderful instructor and school in South Philadelphia. After paying my tuition and registration fee, I changed my clothes in the ladies’ locker room. Lesson one: Muay Thai. I was pumped up and ready to get back into fighting shape. The first class, which lasted one and a half hours, kicked my butt. I was drenched in sweat by the end of the class. I chalked it up to my rusty skills since I was out of shape. My mother and some of my friends told me I was just getting old and my body wasn’t recovering like it once did. I pressed on and didn’t listen to the naysayers.
My second trip to the school I had my first jiujitsu class. All was going well until another student, a guy, pulled my legs out from under me and slammed me to the mat. I should have absorbed the fall by taking the hit on my back. But since I was still shy of taking any hits to my back, I protected that part of my body. Unfortunately, that meant I fell wrong. Putting my arm straight out to brace myself, I heard a strange sound, a pop, as soon as I hit the mat. When I stood up, I knew something was wrong. Piercing pain was throbbing in my right shoulder and I couldn’t lift my arm. The instructor told me to sit out and put ice on my arm. The class continued without me. As I sat on the bench with the ice pack, I knew my arm wasn’t right.
