Extra: The Contender Asia

I noticed that over the past few weeks, the spike in daily traffic to this site has been coming mostly from search engines. I'm guessing this is most likely due to the posts on The Contender Asia, the one and only show I religiously follow these days. It's wrapping up next month with the grand finale happening on April 12th in Singapore.

So to help answer what questions may come from inquiring minds, or just to offer a venue for public discourse and engagement, I hereby present the link to the best TCA fansite there is right now. Ta-dah!

Members of Contender Asia Fans gather on the virtual plane to discuss and analyze (and further trivialize, in some cases) the pressing issues and matters of the day. (About all things TCA, of course.) One can also pick up added insight on Muay Thai, the sport of focus in the show. The overall tone of the discourse is experiential, and sometimes it can even get a little emotional, particularly when colorful or dissenting views arise. Plus, a couple or so fighters from TCA do check in every now and then to spice up discussions with their first-hand accounts of the weekly fights and goings-on in the house. If you have kids and are concerned about psychological repercussions, let me assure you, it's a wholesome family affair. For devotees of the show, it's a nifty virtual hangout, especially after downing another heady episode of the ultimate nail-biter that is TCA.


Okay. So yeah, maybe I should have done this a long time ago, way before the quarterfinals were aired. Anyway, if you dig, good for you. If not, sorry, I can't provide an alternative forum coz that's the only one that I visit. If anyone out there has any suggestions, I'm like a duck sitting out in the open. I invite you to hit me with your best shot. *wrinkle nose plus nerdy giggle*

Peace!

Eureka Moment: Iron Is Actually Good For You

Aha! Now I know why I was so not bringin' it during training last Saturday. I needed some iron-pumping action, and how! And that's not just because I'm sort of anemic. Although now that I think about it, how in the world am I getting by without any ferrous reinforcement?

Needless to say, I totally bombed. Halfway through the second round doing pad work with one of the krus (that's Thai for "teacher"), I found, to my utter mortification, that I was operating at 25% capacity. In cellphone terms, I was low-bat. I immediately saw it even before the new trainer was saying, "Kaya pa ba? (Can you still do it?)" In my mind, I was missile-launching expletives at myself. WTF--I used to be able to do 6-8 rounds, straight up. The least number of rounds a student can do is three, with a two-minute break in between. So this one I totally didn't see coming. Just earlier, I had relatively breezed through a straight five-lap run of the tracks for warm-up. Okay, I know, that's not even half a 5K, but considering that I haven't been running in a couple of months, that's hunky-dory for me. Anyway, doing a 5K right before Muay Thai training is just not the smartest thing in my book. Add to that the realization that it is so not worth going through training when you cannot perform to full capacity. I swear, you'd just feel crappy.

An added caveat: This weekend was the first time I set foot in the gym since New Year's Day. Yep, I was that fanatical. During the countdown to 2008 party that Lejan and I went to (see here post), I was texting with the lone kru who was left to care for the training gym while all the other instructors were enjoying the holidays with their respective families far and away from the city. I was on a roll during the holidays, training for days at a time, and I was so gung-ho on making the most of the slackening preoccupation at work that I went ahead and scheduled a one-on-one for the next day.

So I came, I saw, I kicked butt. Although it wasn't the easiest sesh I've had or anything, I was pretty pleased with myself. Nothing says "I'm getting game" more resonantly than doing it in the first day of the new year. Obviously, I thought it was a sign of things to come. Good things, of course, a year of all things fabulous for the Muay Thai nerd that is me, myself, and I.

But then work came flooding back into the mainstream consciousness like a superlolo blowing up on NY Eve--in the living room. While you're in it. Plus, the fam's painting the town red, and I need to keep them in check lest they be accosted by the cops for possession/abuse of acrylics.

And my own pending homeward bound in the coming days doesn't exactly leave me with boundless energy for other stuff that the cosmos might throw my way.

And so, when I spotted a window in my weekend schedule to finally put in some time again in the gym, I was so intent on going that I didn't bother stopping to ask myself the usual questions before heading off to training:

"Did I get enough sleep (and not just rest) in time for training?"
(Answer: I was thinking 6 hours of sleep should be good enough, just coz I have had way less.)

"Did I eat anything the day before that might contribute to an unnecessarily challenging and uncomfortable performance?"
(Answer: Nothing memorable. Meaning, nothing weird enough to derail me from performing as needed.)

"Did I have a relatively stress-free Friday to buffer the craziness of the week and allow for a smooth transition to training day?"
(Answer: Not exactly. From Sunday to Friday last week, average amount of sleep must have fallen below 5 hours.)

"Did I have my daily banana?"
(Answer: Unfortunately, I was fresh out.)

Maybe I should add in a couple of bullets in this here list, saying:

"Did I take the recommended daily 14.8mg of iron today? What about yesterday? What about the rest of the week?"

"Did I ingest less than 2 units of coffee before Wednesday?"

The number right there is an arbitrary figure; I'm trying to cut down on the once-daily cup of joe, on top of attempting the impossible--doing away with caffeine altogether on the uber-toxic days of Thursday and Friday.

And another good thing to consider, too--getting enough calcium for all that bone-crunching, hard hitting/kicking/kneeing/elbowing action. I know I avoid dairy products like the plague now (unless if it's cheesecake) but this serves as a serious mental note to head on out into a pharmacy on the way home and get a box of Anlene or Calci-Aid or something.

Brrrrrr. I shudder to think of all the crimes of negligence I've committed in the name of whatever. If I were my own mother, I'd be giving myself a spanking right now.

So I have had it--enough with the excuses! Who knew the Muay Thai diet could be so common-sense? Read on, for the equally dispossessed.

The Contender Asia Premiere

All right. Since I think the sudden traffic buildup in this here site must be caused in major part by the timely interest in the debut of The Contender Asia, I figure I should join the bandwagon and provide a sort of review on the first episode of the newest reality show on AXN (aired first last Wednesday and replaying this Saturday at 8am and 6pm).

So what do I think about the premiere? Let me break it down for y'all in bite-sized pieces.


The Lineup

The Contender Asia is White Boy's Land! And about half of them aren't even from Asia! Funny, I know. I checked out the profile of the 16 contenders even before the promotional vids were released and saw that the mix was pretty diverse all right, but it's something else to be seeing them move and speak on the show.

But it's all good, really. I think it makes more business sense to include such a broad scope of geographic representation (there's France, Sweden, and even Croatia!). You have to admit, it makes the case for building Muay Thai up as an uber interesting alternative spectator sport more viable. First off, the fighters could very well be part of the lineup for a United Colors of Benetton ad (for the sportswear collection, if there ever was one). And the more "colorful" the cast of characters in a production, the more engrossing the show could be, hence furthering marketability. As a Muay Thai fan, I sure want to see this happen.

Then there's the language issue. As viewers may have noticed, the powerhouse contenders--them Thais, Yodsaenklai and Naruepol--hardly speak as much English as we offspring of this sprawling, Westernized TV society would prefer. Of course, it's not that they can't speak the language (even if this is so, I don't think it should be the foremost concern of any potential fan of the show); it's just that they don't as much as the others. Which would put them in a slight disadvantage in terms of easy adoption by non-Thai-speaking boob tube cultures. Then again, one could easily point out, "That's what the subtitles are for." Touché.

(By the way, please note that the term "white boy" is not used herein as a derogatory term, or even to suggest a marked demarcation between the races. This is used to describe the irony of the situation. And by irony I don't mean sarcasm. I understand a little, even just a teensy weensy bit, about this thing called globalization and the ongoing melting pot phenomenon, and I don't wish to marginalize in any way any group anywhere, as we are all products of the history of the same world. Bow.)

The Technical

I think the production looks a bit low-budget for something that's from the camp of mega-producer Mark Burnett. By low-budget I mean the feel of the overall quality of the production. (Think getting more bang for your buck.) Although this seems to be the case as well for regional spin-off shows from the US like The Amazing Race, I think the guys behind TCA could have done better.

That being said, I would like to see the cameramen around the ring during the end-of-show fights employ more strategic subterfuge methods to make themselves look scarce. It's a little distracting, really, particularly when the fighters hit the ropes for some clinch action, you tend to go, "Oh the camera guy, he's in the way, he might get thrown off the ring!" And I think the panning of the shots all across the ring could be a little less erratic. Think something along the lines of the UFC or even The Ultimate Fighter. And maybe if they could position the referee to be standing by the side of the fighters in the shots so that you get a sense of only two people fighting in the match, that would also be great. It's not too much to ask, is it? (I know, I notice too much.)

The Sport

Overall, as much as I predict that the show's explosive fights will inspire prospective audiences outside the expected Muay Thai-practicing fanbase to tune in, I think TCA's initial adoption will be borne to a considerable extent by the strong worldwide branding of its parent production. Even though the US show is a boxing competition, its popularity will well enough carry over to TCA, helping the newbie in its bid to make a dent on the Asian entertainment sports market.

As a sport, boxing has left an indelible imprint on the collective consciousness of sports fans all over the world. I can't begin to try guessing how this imprint looks like, and even more so how this was shaped. Suffice it to say that as like-minded enthusiasts become more enamored by the spectacle of combat sports, we shall perceive a more resounding clamor for alternative, derivative forms of boxing, if only to satiate our vicarious lust for variety and the increasingly exotic. Being the "Art of the Eight Limbs", Muay Thai is all that and more. It's not just a sporting phenomenon that's taking rings all around the world by storm; it's something that we can all connect to. It is survival of the fittest to the core, and we are all fighting the same fight. And that is why I think Muay Thai and TCA are here to stay.

Show Time: The Contender Asia

So here it is, folks. The moment I've been waiting for.=P

So I've resigned myself to the perpetuation of my current affliction. I'm letting insomnia claim me whole, body and soul. So much for perennial NY resolution number 2.



Why the reference to sleeplessness, you ask? Because The Contender has several contenders for the plum, exclusive viewership in our household. There's the first few matches of this year's Australian Open airing live and going for reruns just about 24/7 for the latter part of this month. And let me not forget, there's also the premiere of American Idol Season 6 showing on Star World. Now as is quite obvious, Muay Thai ain't at the forefront of mainstream couch potato consciousness. Whereas what do you get when you pit the likes of tennis rockstars Federer, Nadal, and that beautiful rake from Russia, Marat, against a catty Brit music producer-slash-judge and his posse of toothy American Dreamers? Instant ratings.

Okay, I know, too many references. What it all basically means is, the battle for the remote is on.

Muay Thai Update: The 2007 SEAG In Conclusion

Well, it was a good fight. So we didn't get a gold in Muay Thai in the recently concluded 24th Southeast Asian Games. But out of the 11 events that were covered in the tourney (all individual/combat categories), we bagged a medal in 10. With 5 silvers and 5 bronzes, we're salutatorians in the numbers game. Not bad. Especially since the championship went to the country that invented the sport. Not bad at all.

Congratulations, Team Philippines!

Muay Thai Update: The Contender Asia and the 24th SEA Games

Hot diggity dang! Yezzuuhh! It's coming. I just saw the uber-short teaser on AXN last weekend. Man, I thought the top dogs at the station were never gonna air the show here in the Philippines. Woohoo! I dunno what I was sulking around the past few weeks for, just coz I couldn't find any schedule for the show listed in the Philly site. But silly ole me, of course they're gonna be showing it here. That's chamillions of mucho dinero worth of product ad endorsements down the drain smelling like poop if they leave us out of the loop. (Yeah, rhyme intended.)

Dang it, it's gonna be nothing short of awesome!

***

Speaking of awesome, the RP Muay Thai Team won't be showing them good ole Thais (or any other nationality for that matter) any lovin' when they duke it out in the ring in the upcoming SEA Games on December 6-15 in Bangkok. We are so bringin' it!

The Muay Thai Series of Unfortunate Events

"The more you learn, the less you know."

Leaping lizards! I knew I had a long way to go, but this is serious. How could I have deluded myself into thinking I knew a little something-something already? Would you just look at the list below. I didn't know half of those things even existed. Heck, I'm not even past first grade level in my roundhouse kick! Demmet!


*****

In the words of Britney Spears, "Oops, I did it again." The third sports-related injury I got this year, and it's not even November. That's not counting the scrapes and bruises (not to mention, the toenail incident that happened during my very first MT session last year) that on a semi-regular basis reinforce their existence on various aspects of my person. You'd think I was a battered girlfriend. But of course, how could I be? (A girlfriend, that is.)

So first it was my left pinkie. Got bruised up in an unfortunate-but-you'd-never-have-seen-it-coming sparring exercise with one of those amorous boxing trainors at Red Corner Makati. Cut short my then sudden aspirations of getting some action in the ring--yes, with media sponsors looking on and a live audience cheering you on and booing your opponent and all (yep, the ultimate wannabe episode of my life)--which is probably just as well. The pinkie incident got me looking like I forever had morsels of blueberry muffin smeared on the side of my hand, too. You'd think something so small and therefore harmless to one's overall constitution couldn't elicit gasps of horror and revulsion at the mere sight of it. It was utterly hideous, I tell you. Not to mention expensive. I had to down antibiotics for a couple of weeks--doctor's orders--which actually bore a hole in my pocket. Not exactly the most enticing incentive for living the health nut lifestyle.

The second major injury was with my right elbow. My mistake, but not totally my bad. This time, it was the big boss at the training gym in Pasig. He's super duper nice and all but really, what business did I have, being a relative freshie and all, to be doing a knee strike more than 6 feet away from the target? Plus, on solid, unpadded, unforgiving ground, no less. So naturally, gravity had to play teacher. I landed splat on my right arm. There goes the wakeboarding trip. Not to mention my ego. Yep, lootsaaa witnesses there. Anyhoo, it's all good now. Took a little over a month to heal, no biggie. Lesson learned. I more or less rock the elbow now, at least I like to think.

And now this. ¡Hay, que mal! Some muscle in the vicinity behind the kneecap I must have pulled during training. As a result, I now can't contract my right leg in certain angles without feeling a little tingle in the area (nuh-uh, it ain't the happy type, no siree). I don't even know exactly how I got it. I was just practicing my super sucky roundhouse with one of the coaches. Maybe it was due to the lack of a proper warm-up, I dunno. I never even felt anything during the actual session. Next thing I know, passing through Megamall on my way home, I'm doing a horrendous rendition of one of those stump-legged ageing Jack Sparrow types that I see on the Disney Channel.

On the whole, it's a little funny, actually. And it's really nothing in the grand scheme of things. In fact, I knew this was gonna be the way with MT, and it's all good. I just dunno how long this thing is gonna take. Now I can't go running at the very least. To think there's another race on November 25th. What's a girl to do? I can't stand being immobile. I can't not move. Doggone leg muscle thing. Man, I'm practically baldado! Arrgggghh. I get awfully crabby when my options close shop in my face just when I'm about to sashay through the door.

Love. Peace. Run.

This is possibly the most excruciating week of the year thus far. Like Murphy said, anything wrong that can happen will happen. He's got some pretty solid skills of postulation, that guy. But I'm not expounding on the things that managed to disturb (no, that should actually be in the present tense--"still manage to disturb") my sangfroid.

To be fair, the week opened with one of the best Sundays I had this year, which I would like to think is a sign of better things to come. Of course, my Sundays are pretty laidback and open for whatever. I try valiantly each single time to get an early start so I could hit the gym for a mind-and-body morning rush, unfortunately usually to no avail. But at the very least I could count on regular detours to the mall for some extensive power walking. I totally swear by this activity. If it weren't for this fallback, I'd have ballooned beyond redemption on account of my manic love for food, which would cross out any effects that I more or less gain from a spasmodic exercise schedule. I mean, imagine walking around for hours on end to window-shop and people-watch and nothing more, stopping to rest only for dinner or the occasional movie with Soms, my Thai cuisine-craving partner-in-crime du jour. It's practically fail-safe for couch potato butts like me. Although it can get quite tiring having to stay upright for a few hours straight, at least you don't feel the sting of focused physical exertion that is typical of gym workouts.

Last Sunday, Soms was a no-show, mainly coz I failed to inform him ahead of time that I couldn't make it to our loosely planned dinner. It's usually touch and go with him anyway, so it's all well and good. Upon arriving home from exercising my rights to vagrancy at Glorietta and Greenbelt (was literally bumming around all over the place), I had planned a short siesta until around 5pm but found the opportunity to snuggle further into sleepiness too tempting to pass up. After all, I'm not your daily corporate zombie for nothing. While some folks dream of Jeannie, I for the most part dream of sleep.

So last Sunday, I was wiped out, I was history. It was a day for the books. I had completed my second 5K that morning at the Fil-Mus Foundation Run for Peace at Roxas Boulevard. And to think I had almost missed it! I didn't hear the damn alarm go off, maybe coz I had only 4 hours of sleep the night before. Thankfully, by some mysterious process I managed to be jolted out of my sleeping stupor at 5:15am (starting time was 6am). I have never showered so fast in my entire life, the very memory amazes me to this time. After downing Lipovitan (the store was fresh out of Red Bull at the time), I was so pumped up, I was running the short distance from my apartment to the main road to hail a taxi. The sun was way up already and all that vitamin D got me in panic mode that I was cussing at myself for jeopardizing what I had been looking forward to for weeks. Luckily, the heavens must be conspiring in my favor coz I got a cab right away to take me to Malate. Sitting through the ride and trying to keep my wavering hopes up, it became all the more self-evident that Roxas Boulevard is quite a distance from my core universe in Makati, even sans the usual traffic. I implored the cabbie to go as fast as legally possible while mouthing a silent prayer to up my chances of making it to the starting line. I really wanted to run in this race.

When I got to the place, I jumped out of the cab and sprinted to the baggage counter area (a couple of mini-minivans) only to find out that I actually wasn't late. Practically, no, but only coz the celebrity guest runner who was there to kick off the show, Robin Padilla, the quintessential bad boy of Pinoy showbiz, arrived at the starting area a good 10-15 minutes later than I did (which would make the official starting time around 6:15 instead of 6am). Being a newbie runner, I would think that by racing standards, that's an eternity. Whatever. As evidenced by the reception of the racing crowd that caught a glimpse of him as he swept into the scene with a gathering entourage in tow (which included his very pretty daughter, who jogged with him wearing a full hijab), I realize star power is raw power. Can't really argue with the power of charisma. You'd think it would be easy for the multitude of runners to get a little pissed off by the delay. Apparently, you couldn't get guys like these (starstruck or otherwise) that chug on happy hormones for racing fuel in a sour mood then.

The starter pistol was fired immediately upon his arrival, and off the throng went. Some 1,000 boys and girls of all ages and from all walks of Manila life thundered down the paved path that extended from Rajah Sulayman Plaza, turning the corner at TM Kalaw and further past the plaza to the stoplight at the end of the pedestrian stretch, and back to complete a lap. The 5K event covered one round of the straightforward route which, even with the lack of the slopes and curves that characterized the UP run, was still a tough one for me as I was ready to drop by the side of the road at 4K. But I soldiered on, stopping for a second only when my shoelace came undone and breaking my pace by about 20% to aim in the general direction of my trap water from the plastic cups that the nice water people at the opposite ends of the road stretch were handing out to the runners.

When you're not racing, 5K sounds like an easy number. But as I was reminded again, it was a long, arduous journey of the mind as halfway through the run, I was mighty ecstatic to see the looming visage of the plaza that would signify the end of my happy ordeal. My endorphin levels dipped considerably, however, upon being reminded that the route from TM Kalaw required another turn before hitting the finish line at the plaza area. Daayymm, suddenly it felt like a chore that I couldn't reconcile getting up so early and working my ass out that hard for. Somewhere in the fogged-up crevices of my sleep-deprived mind, I heard the question, "Why am I doing this again?" And then I got the answer a short while later in the end, my utter amazement apparent at seeing the LCD timer staring down at me suspended from its place above the finish line, as if to say, "Yes, you really did finish at 33:37."

I swear, that moment right there was really cool. It was tops. Later this week when I relayed the news to Bry, my co-running junkie at the UP run, he was floored. He said his last PR (he runs at UP with Jer every Sunday now) was around 34 minutes. For the Fil-Mus race, I figured I must be finishing within the neighborhood of 36 minutes. If I were to be technical about it, my first ever time of 41:07 at the Great UP Run should be slashed some 5 minutes in order for me to get a better picture of how my average running rate goes. But man, 33:37 is quite something, on a personal level. I'm happy with it, especially since I haven't even been kicking it in training. The only aerobic activity I got after the run at Diliman was at Muay Thai class the day before (see previous post).

Which provides the segue into the second part of this report, to be concluded as soon as I can snatch up some free time from my workload from hell.


Post-Run Pose with the Muay Thai National Team

Run that by me again, will ya?

I never would have thought the day would come when I could say I probably relate more to guys than to my own kind. And it's becoming sort of a problem coz sometimes, without realizing it, I inadvertently give the cold shoulder to the alpha females in my block whenever I hear shrill chatter about girlie stuff. But don't get me wrong. I can be quite the girlie girl. I think. There's a degree of kikayness to me that I can't shake off, as my friends would attest to with grating candor. Not that I've really ever tried anyway. Shaking it off, that is.

Fine, so I'm vain. Not that girlie-ness should equate to vanity, but I guess if vanity is considered a soft trait, then I would say that's the extent of my, er, softness and hence, femininity. So there you go. I am vainvainvain. (You're so vain, you probably think this blog is about you....)

Crud, everyone is vain anyway, big deal. It's all a matter of being able to live with the fact that you are what social self-righteousness says you shouldn't be. All I can say is, occasional bouts of self-lovin' should be all right as long as you don't take yourself too seriously. So damn the hecklers, go on and be a little kinder to yourself. Come on, you know you want to. Indulge a little. It can be quite healthy, too. Hehe.

***

So, as I was saying. Lately, I've taken to exchanging more words than are necessary with one of the top guns here, and even more so with my dude cubicle-mate. In the office, Bry has always been a little more interesting to me (as a person, you ha) because of our shared affinity for sports. He's my one-time swimming tutor who got me interested in trying out wakeboarding. Unfortunately, not even his National Team background could get me to learn how to freestyle properly. But that was just an hour's worth of lessons anyway. And his freestyle is pro-level too, by the way. Excuses, excuses. Guess that means I gotta make do with my dog paddle for the meantime.

Jer, the boss man, seems to be a fun guy, too. I mean, he listens to house music and owns a rockin' digital SLR. He's also into boxing, thereby rounding up the triumvirate of male enthusiasts of the sport in our department, with me as the lone thorn among the so-called roses (or should it be the other way around...?) Plus, he just participated in the Adidas King of the Road 21K citywide run last July 1. Coolness in a barong and suit, that's what he is.

Anyway, those two got to talking about joining The Great UP Run to be held next month in, where else, UP. As for me, it has always been a sort of goal for me to be participating in a marathon someday. Fun runs like these are a fine way to get started, I guess. So I turned to Google and got to checking out The Bull Runner and Our Awesome Planet, plus a couple of other blogs whose authors/titles now escape me, all espousing the glorious merits of taking up running as a serious hobby.

After signing up with the guys at UP, I found out Jer and Bry were also running. And like the saying goes, the more the many-er, I mean, merrier. So we sort of teamed up and now, we have, like, snatches of mini-powwows revolving on possible places where we could train and getting decent/lousy finishes and what-have-you.

I'm also planning on joining the run that's being sponsored by the Quezon City Red Cross on August 5. Which reminds me, gotta speak to the peeps over at the City Hall in QC about registration. There's also another run on August 12 under Runners' Plus. I still have a little under a month to improve my endurance. Never mind the speed, although I would probably hate myself if I finished last, even if I am a beginner. Whatever. Running is funfunfun. It's just a wonder that it took me this long to fully appreciate the fact. I used to dread getting on the treadmill coz it tends to get a little boring and, well, tiring. But after the initial few minutes of torturous self-egging at a graduated pace of 7-10 km/hour, you begin feeling a certain kind of high. It seeps into your consciousness, setting your body on fire and making you want to keep at it for as long as your legs can carry you. Beyond that excruciating period, it starts getting so good, you feel like you never want the ride to end.

So what's with the crammed August sked, you ask? Well basically, being a late bloomer in this thing, I need all the opportunities I can get before Ramadan sets in this September. Of course, then it would be zero activity for me. Tried being a little more active during the fasting month in the years since I started becoming a jock-wannabe, but it just didn't happen. And it can be a pain in the ass trying to get back on the horse after staying a long time away.

***

Speaking of which. I'm kind of nervous for tomorrow's class. After a month-long sabbatical from the training gym on account of reviewing for the wretched certification exam (okay, plus the week-long Palawan trip I took in mid-June), I'll be making like the prodigal son and heading home to get the blessing of the disapproving Mafioso father to train again and try to recover whatever magic I lost during that much extended breather. Everyone's already been telling me to bring my game up in terms of power and technique, and now the momentum's off coz of my long-winded detour from the whole learning process. If last night's practice session with my original training instructors at the gym-gym (which is different from my training gym in that this is where I work out) is any indication of how even more olats I am now, then I'd better start practicing my dude face tonight for the barrage of quips and needling my teachers are sure to throw my way after a lackluster showing.

Plus, if Kru Roy tells me to gear up for a sparring match, I can't very well back down. Even if I go home from that gym limping on busted kneecaps, I will try. You get hella tired from all that exertion, the attempts at outthinking and outmaneuvering the opponent, that you feel like you've forgotten how to breathe right. Not to mention, it's like a friggin' sauna in that place, that half the time you can't see through the sweat-drenched, matted hair that keeps falling all over your eyes while you're trying in earnest to beat the living crap out of your sparring partner, who happens to be the instructor who keeps telling you to amp it up and fight like you mean it coz you're not hacking it.

But hands down, sparring gives you the best high. Never mind the injuries that now seem to happen at a regular basis and the fugly bruises you've never in your previously sheltered girlie existence had. Muay Thai's a keeper. Nuff said.