|(hier auch auf Deutsch)|
|Last year in winter, my dear friend M. had a wonderful idea to sign up for a capoeira class. I don’t remember exactly how it happened that I ended up joining her in this bold endeavor. She must have drugged or hypnotized me, as I don’t see any other explanation of why I would decide to undergo these tortures voluntary and being of sound mind. Obviously, I was pretty traumatized by the experience, and the only way to cope with this (physical and psychological) trauma was to write it all down. I’d like to publish these notes here today, as a warning to everybody, who might get the same crazy idea.|
|Just came home from a two hour class of capoeira with my friend M. Result: bleeding wounds on my right toe and brutal pains while sitting down and getting up (forget about going up or down the stairs). Why do they say doing sports is healthy for you, if one feels much more ill after it than before? A paradox. Oh yes, and I had to sing loud in Portuguese!|
|It was almost as bad as the training itself. For those among you who speak Portuguese: I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t remember a word of it. The only thing that did get stuck in my memory is that every line of this “song” had the word “capoeira” in it. As I didn’t understand anything of it, I imagined I had to sing – loud and in public – something like, “Oh, capoeira! You are so cool, capoeira! We love you so, capoeira!” Also, I remember something that sounded like “linguini” or “pinguini”. And the only way it got stuck with me is because it made me think of a penguin eating noodles (and one doesn’t simply forget this kind of mental picture). Unfortunately, this is all I can report on this matter, as all my concentration was spent on “looking-serious, not-laughing, producing-singing-like-sounds”.|
|It seems like we will be going there next week again.|
|News from the Club of Masochists, also known as my capoeira group:
Just came home – although I’m not really sure if my style of moving forward qualifies to be called “walking” – from my two hours of capoeira training.
|Mystery of the day:|
|I think there is a gravitation anomaly in their training hall, exactly on the spot where I was standing. Every time when we had to do this exercise of going down on one leg, so deep that one could almost touch the floor, and then to come back up quickly, my butt just landed on the floor and stayed there as if glued to it. All attempts to get it up again within the exercise failed miserably. Either it’s a gravitation anomaly or I’m simply too fat. Ah, what am I saying? I’m sure it’s a gravitation anomaly. Oh yes, and we didn’t have to sing this time. We knew exactly what was going to happen when we saw them unpacking their instruments, and fled outside as quickly as we could. So my suffering was only of a physical nature this time. We’ll go there again next week. I really need to investigate this gravitation anomaly.|
|Just came home – very slowly, but pretty confidently and almost gracefully – from my (thank God only) one hour capoeira class. I always thought that the ability to quickly forget bad things is a very useful skill. Till it turned out that I completely blacked out the events of last week, and went to my capoeira class: alone, voluntarily stepping out of my warm home office into the cold of -12 C (what was I thinking?).|
|I found my scales on Sunday after I misplaced it three months ago. Afterwards I had enough motivation to immediately start jogging, swimming and do capoeira simultaneously. Maybe I should have brought the scales with me to the class, because already after 5 minutes of training I could barely resist the desire to lie down on the floor, close my eyes and not move, till somebody comes and carries me home.|
|Discovery of the day:|
|It is not a good idea to live on spaghetti bolognese for three days in a row before going for sports, especially for this particularly cruel kind.|
|Because when you have to hold all your weight on one hand and do the splits at the same time, you feel and curse each and every damn noodle. You even promise yourself to become a vegetarian. Thank God promises made under torture don’t count. I even swore to myself to give up chocolate pudding – what nonsense! Anyhow, I didn’t let them torture me for too long today. My dear friend M. stood me up today, so I didn’t have anybody there I had to keep my cool for.|
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