I bent my legs and leaped higher and tried a little harder with the master's eye on me.
We moved a lot things out of storage--barbells, wooden boards I'll break, according to Shihan, when I've "grown up," old cds, karate posters, a mop and bucket, other bits and bobs one might imagine adorning the walls of a dojo. I found a stack of photo frames with pictures of previous classes and graduates and sempais and higher ups in kyokushin karate. And Dolph Lundgren. There he is-- Ivan Drago from Rocky IV--right next to my Shihan.
With the dojo within walking distance, Shihan decided we could carry the last few things over ourselves, and that is why Shihan and Alexandra carried a larger-than-life painting of Mas Oyama, the founding father of kyokushin karate, between them down the street, and I followed with a large, square sign for the dojo balanced on my head.
"Behind each triumph are new peaks to be conquered."
After a very long time shifting things into their new place of residence, most of the people went home, cycling off into the cool night air for home and hearth. The rest of us fell to refitting the punching bags. I learned a great deal about them today. (The punching bags, that is. Not the others.)
The stuffing in the bag (usually made of rags or ripped cloth) settles after a few years of (ab)use, compacting into itself and hardening. Therefore, it is necessary to open the bags, pull out all its stuffing, fluff it, and put it back. Shihan, blue-belt, yellow-belt, and fake-white-belt undid one of the bags and ripped out its innards (the bag itself had broken open on the side and had to be retired), which fake-white-belt and I stuffed into the new green bag.
Fake-white-belt hails from the land of Germany.
Before the gutting begins
Out with the old, in with the new
It's a bit like stuffing a large sausage.