Home Life and Training (Part 4)
According to my father's instructions, I am to do for the next three months:
Squats: x1000
Leg Lifts: x1000
Wall sits: x100 30 seconds each with 30 second break between
Calf raises: x1000
Crunches: x1000
Air bike: x100 30 seconds each with 30 second break between
Apparently, there was a reason for this. He told me that throughout our years of running, he built our muscles to endure, and that it was perhaps the most important attribute for our muscles. However, since I was the son, I needed to pack more explosive power into my muscles. He told me that most of the explosive power, whether it comes from a punch or a kick, develops and originates from our lower body and core. A good foundation is necessary in order to bring out the full power that your muscles and body can achieve.
It sounded like it made sense, but to me, I just kept thinking about all the 0's behind the 1's in the exercises that I had to do. It was insanity. I don't even know how father expected me to even walk after all this. How was I going to be able to spar against him? I just hope he'll be taking it easy on me.
The morning exercise was intense and I still hadn't finished all of my crunches by the time lunch had started. Father came up to me and told me that there was no sparring this afternoon until I had completed everything from the start. So, my afternoon was filled with what I had already done in the morning. I barely finished in time for dinner at 7:30pm. I had Mary drag me to the dining table where mother and father were already waiting. I didn't have the energy to speak, or even listen to what they were saying. I wolfed down my food and headed to bed immediately.
The next day, it started again. And oh my lord, was the soreness unbearable. I barely got through half of all the exercises before I had to stop for lunch. Father looked at me again as I was lying down on the floor after the morning session and with the classic smug look on his face smiled at me and said, "No sparring for you today again."
For three full weeks, I never even get to begin sparring my father due to the constant cycle of getting sore and not being able to finish the morning exercises on time. Finally, on the beginning of the fourth week, I was able to finish the morning exercises almost precisely on time. I was still on the floor, but a sense of triumph and accomplishment washed over me as I lay there. I couldn't even think about sparring later, but I knew that I was getting somewhere. Not seeing progress for the past three weeks definitely affected me mentally. Some days I wouldn't even be able to get past half of the exercises. Although I wasn't sure I could do the same thing tomorrow, at least I had done it today. Slowly but surely, I think my body was getting accustomed to the extra weight. Although I could still feel the overbearing weight, it was not as noticeable as it was three weeks ago.
I ate lunch as slowly as possible today as I tried to stall and recover my energy. I think I could feel the stare of my father and his excitement to finally stretch his muscles a little bit, instead of watching us train all day long.
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Mary was doing her stretching exercises on the side while father and I got ready for our spar. We were out on the yard barefoot and doing some light stretching before we started. My muscles were sore and I really wasn't looking forward to taking a beating from father. Hopefully he would remember not to beat his own son.
This would be the first time I would ever spar with someone else, and I was going to try my best. Not because I wanted to learn how to fight, but how to fake fight. If I ever was going to be an actor, I was definitely going to be asked to perform stunts and fights. I wasn't going to be one of those wussy actors that let their stunt doubles perform all the cool scenes, so I took this as acting practice. And acting, I took very seriously.
I looked at father as he was stretching, and I made a quick Morpheus pose, as I gestured to father to bring it on.
He looked at me strangely, as if I didn't know what I was getting into and smiled. He seemed to like my eagerness to fight, as he quickly decided to run at me.
He was approaching quickly, with his center of gravity low and his hands covering the side of his face. I could see his eyes fixated on me, as if he could analyse and predict anything I was about to do.
I threw a quick front kick to try and make some distance and stop his advance. As if expecting it, my father's left hand flicked the kick to the side and got inside my guard. His low center of gravity was making it hard to do anything. He was a terrifyingly dense target. I couldn't see any openings. I tried to get away from him as quick as possible, but my kick had put me off balance. I elbowed down onto his head, but before I could do so, he wrapped his hand around my waist and tackled me down. He mounted me, and I had no idea what to do next. His overbearing weight pinned me on the ground, while I tried to lash out with my fists and buckle my hips. He wouldn't budge.
"You lose. Get up," he said.
One move and I was done. This was going to be a long day.
This time I was going to be running at him. I didn't want to let him have the first move. My cocky display earlier almost made Mary burst into laughter, and I didn't want to be embarrassed over and over.
As soon as we were three meters away from each other, apparently standard in a spar, I rushed at father. I kept a low center of gravity, hands at the side of my head, and stared straight at my father. He smiled as he thought was quite funny that I mimicked his moves immediately. He shrugged and showed me how to really defend against a low, quick rush.
I saw his left leg trying to kick me as he tried to make some distance, and I dodged to the outside. I threw a quick jab to his face, but I realized his kick was a feint too late. I saw his knuckles a centimeter away from my face and his cheeky smile behind it. I stumbled backwards caught off guard and surprised by the speed at which he countered me.
"Again," he shouted as I struggled to get back to the appropriate distance.
And so, on and on, I was continually defeated in one move until the end of the afternoon.
Father was drilling into my mind and body all sorts of counters and moves that I had never experienced before. My body was trembling with excitement at the prospect of some day becoming as strong and skilled as my father.
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Jelloeditor2
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