Trying Something New - Self Defence Class Week Two

Trying Something New - Self Defence Class Week Two

Still battered and blue after week one, I went back for more. I will admit i showed off my bruised wrists like badges of honour gained in a battle with my bf - who clearly won.  Truth be told I bruise like a peach and squeal like a little girl.

So, I want to do well in this class. I am not aspiring to gain my black belt or become a world champion, but I do want to prefect what I am being taught.  It was frustrating trying to perform the perfect side roll (used to ease the impact of hitting the ground should you lose your balance or be pushed) and continuously not getting it right.

We had a new batch of instructors this week and there was one in particular, that although he took his craft very seriously, he also knew how to bring it down to a level that was relevant - well for me anyway. As I am rolling over to my side and having my arm flail about, he told me to smack it on the ground like it was a bad date.

Ah ha! That I understood as God knows I have been on many a bad date. Years of  suffering through bad conversations, wandering hands, and sloppy kisses, finally found an outlet - the side roll with a hand smack.

The bf and I did have the opportunity to do some work together. It was super fun.

I will go back for week three.

Trying Something New - Self Defence Class

Trying Something New - Self Defence Class

Walking into the multi-purpose room at The Pan Am Pool, I realized how I envy the innocence of a child. I don't know how many classes I have signed my son up for and with abandon he walks in tall to the first class without fear or reservation. I did not feel this way - rather I was uncomfortable and a little nervous. It had been ages since I took an organized class and I was there with my boyfriend which added a second layer of trepidation. For anyone who has taken a class with a significant other or spouse, you understand that slight vulnerable feeling one gets at the thought there is a good chance they will making a complete ass out of themselves  in front of the one they try to impress the most.

In any class you have the usual types of people - the one's that never say a word (me); the ones that ask WAY to many question (we had three in the class); and the one that asks the most obscure questions that have no relevance to the class what-so-ever.  By the fifth redundant and useless question I revelled in the idea that there was the opportunity I could use my soon to be taught self-defence skills and punch them later.

True to Winnipeg form I knew someone else in the class. I will be sure to test out our new techniques next time I see him on the street. Kidding

By the end of the class, the BF (boyfriend) and I found a rhythm as sparring partners and we had a great time. It was a unique way to be in each other`s company and to grow as individuals and a couple.

Conclusion, I will go back for week two. 

Fishing a Drug Like No Other

Fishing a Drug Like No Other

When the boat came to a stop and I was handed the fishing rod and I looked at it with bewilderment , it quickly became apparent I was like a fish out of water.

It had been 10 plus years since I had threw a line in the water and even then it was more to be social than to catch anything. But this outing was full of intent. My boyfriend (BF) is an avid fisher and has even caught a few master anglers in his time.

I was reluctant to go as I never enjoyed fishing. I always viewed it as an excuse to drink and since I am a non-drinker, I figured why bother. But wanting to share the experience and be a part of another slice of my BF’s world, I bundled up, grabbed the life jacket and headed out onto the lake.

I was given quick instruction on how to case a rod and then sent on my way. The first few casts yielded nothing. Then I felt a slight tug on my line. I started to get panicked and let out a little yelp before seeing reeds come to the surface at the end of my yellow Five of Diamonds hook.

Continuing to cast, with nothing happening, I quickly felt affirmed in my perspective that fishing is boring as hell.

Then it happened, I had a bite. The tug on my line almost caused me to loosen my grip and drop the rod as though something hot was searing my fingertips. But a few calm words and some instruction from my boat mate calmed my nerves and I focused on brining this fish to the surface. In mere seconds, a  tug on the line, my scream, calming words, and two more turns of the reel, and the fish had come loose and swam off before I could claim it as a legitimate catch.

What also happened was an adrenaline rush similar to pulling the handle on a slot machine and being one position off from having three black bars all lined up. It was like bring so close to the jackpot that you can almost taste it; so close you would do anything to actually win.

In that one cast, fishing became like a drug. I wanted that high that you get from feeling the tug on your line and I was willing to cast all day. Just like the gambler that continues to pull the arm time after time, I believed that the next cast was going to hit pay dirt and I was going to catch a fish.

A good slot player will switch machines if they feel the one they are on has gone cold. Fishing is no different. If five casts didn’t yield anything, we shuttled the boat to a new spot. George Lake in the Whiteshell is full of bass, trout, northern pike, perch and white fish – a fisherman’s schmorgesborg of potential. Shifting to a spot that the Lake Trout favoured, we again cast our lines.

On the second throw of my hook I got a bit. I again scream and then hear clear instructions come from my other half.  As the fish neared the boat it started to fight, swimming underneath the boat, coming to the surface, thrashing about  - desperate to break free.

My heart quickened, my adrenaline surged. I gripped the rod tighter and I was determined to bring this fish in. Now I would love to write that the fish and I wrestled for twenty minutes that it was a master angler and I was a fishing God – but then I would be lying.

30-seconds later a 4lb, 19” Lake Trout was safely snared in the net and I had officially caught my first fish!

I was reminded of a conversation I had with fishing guru Dave Mercer who was a guest on the Friday Entertainment Panel on CJOB. He talked about the thrill of brining in a fish, the rush you get and I finally knew firsthand what he meant. Note: Dave was referring to catching a 400lb grouper not a 4lb Lake Trout.

Now I am not about to take up sport fishing as a new hobby but I have a greater understanding of people who do.  The thrill, the rush and the sense of catching the big one with each cast is like chasing an elusive high.

Diary of a Pole Dancer