If you can imagine what that scene might be like (giraffe attempting to do a pirouette), and then picture it splatting hard against the floor, on its side/front, you'll get the idea of just how coordinated I was in the last kung fu session.
I tried my best to do the turn that was demonstrated, followed by the requisite kick. I sort of managed it once, then again. But the third time, I ended up taking a leap and thudded to the floor. It really, really hurt (I landed on my iffy hip bone and elbow), and had to do that thing of going 'it's OK, I'm fine...' while trying to stop the automatic tears that come to one's eyes on such occasions.
For the rest of the class, I was very careful, so much so that I was quite possibly pathetic, throwing weak moves and forgetting far too much. I was unbelievably tired.
I did, however, manage to regain some verve for the punching part of the class and skinned my knuckles in the process. The man holding the pads laughed nervously and said he didn't want to spar with me as he was having lots of trouble standing firm when I struck. That was quite satisfying.
But, God, I need some effing sleep. Hours and hours, not this restricted, militarily-regulated lark.
Still, I know it's all for my own good. Arggggh.
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