Tag Archives: mma

Them’s the breaks. Literally.

28 Dec

It’s been ages since I last posted, and while I’d like to say I’ll be more regular with it, I’d be lying to you, my three readers. I will agree to put in a strong effort, though.

Much of what’s been keeping me busy is my time at Team Quest, my MMA fight club. Since joining up in January I’ve had quite a few ups and downs in my training.

Though kickboxing is what ignited my passion for the club, Coach Scott convinced me to work on my strength and conditioning training through his FitQuest program. Things were rough at first, and my legs nearly up and quit my body.

Took my first ice bath

Mama’s first ice bath

My kickboxing training continued, until my sparring partner and I were a little too enthusiastic. He is far more experienced and has built up that lovely calcification on his shins that I don’t quite have yet. The result? Forced time off from hitting people.

Had a blood baby, had to take a break from kickboxing

My baby hematoma

While the injury stung, this gave me an opportunity to really focus on FitQuest and whip my ass into shape. I fell for this training in a way I can’t properly explain. Coach Scott became such a huge influence and support in my life. His encouragement and ability to push my limits truly changed me in only the most positive of ways.

Got my ass so wonderfully kicked on my birthday

Birthday torture! Huzzah!

One of my Questmates and I created and tackled our own Centurion: 100 reps each of ten different exercises. We were going a bit blind near the end, but it was an amazing night. The feeling of accomplishment was beyond compare.

Completed the Centurion with Bri


And then everything changed.

Broke both of my wrists

Handjobs? Out of the question.

That’s right. Both wrists broken. Fractured in three places on each side, dislocated on each side, surgery on each side, pin on one side. And this is where my fight life pretty much came to a screeching halt.

With this trauma, my entire life and routine changed. Serious depression set in. Above all else, I learned who my true friends were. More than the physical pain, the mental effects were excruciating.

Nearly three months after the accident, the pin has been removed from my bone, the casts are off, and therapy has begun. The hard work is paying off in that my flexibility has improved, but my strength is still slow to come back. The pain is not nearly as bad as those first few weeks.

(paper clip for scale, not involved in the surgery)

(paper clip for scale, not involved in the surgery)

This isn’t a sob story, nor is it me looking for a pity party. I’ve come out on the other side of a major trauma knowing a lot more about myself and that my passion for this sport is beyond the anguish of an injury. Training (mostly lower body) has once again become part of my daily life and I eagerly await the day I can punch someone in the face again. This may not make sense, but in the words of the most lovely and insightful Mr. Stephen Fry,

“We have all experienced passion that is not in any sense reasonable.”


Shenanigans and Goings-On

30 Jan

“I think that we have all experienced passion that is not in any sense reasonable.” -Stephen Fry

Quite recently I lost my mind. Insanity takes many forms, and mine manifested with a membership to an intimidatingly hardcore MMA training gym, Team Quest: a few kickboxing classes and one intro Jiu Jitsu class each week to whip me into shape. The past year has left me needing a way to find my strength and the inspiration to make it happen came from over two thousand miles away.

Oh hai, inspiration.

This incredible man is JB Baker. To me he is many things: puzzling prestidigitator, stunning songbird, innuendo instigator, and all-around partner in crime. To top it all off, he’s now my ass-kicking muse. For him to decide at 39 to be in fighting condition by his 40th birthday struck me in such a way that I had to answer the challenge in my own way. I can’t wait to fly to Chicago to see him dominate his first MMA fight. I’ll be screaming my head off cheering him on and be equipped with an arsenal of frozen veg to ice down his bruised ribs afterwards. You can read all about his journey at Fighting Forty.

Armed with a hefty earful of encouragement, I took a huge leap and walked through the door. My very first kickboxing class was rough, to put it lightly, and resulted in quite an impressive souvenir:

“Police brutality at its best.” -JB Baker

I wore this bruise (and the fact that it was given to me at the hands -or legs- of a cop) as a badge and was a bit bummed to see it fade. In the meantime, I learned more technique in the intermediate class and started to slowly navigate the world of grips and arm bars in BJJ. It was overwhelming, but I’ve really enjoyed jumping right into the mix. Plus I get fun new toys!

My Twins! They’re real…and they’re spectacular.

Being sick for a few days has really given me some perspective on what an impact those first two weeks made. Being forced to sit still is always difficult, but my desire to get back out to class has been really overwhelming. Maybe this isn’t so crazy after all…

Nope. Still crazy. But I love it.