backinthsaddle | Chapter Three: Combat Training

"Okay," she says, brightly. Stretching. Stretching she can do. She settles down, carefully, on the mat, and does just what he says. Legs out straight. She can't touch her toes. She can get about mid-shin, and there's a twitch of her lips, the slightest indication of pain. "I'm really out of shape, but I'm gonna work on it." Pause. "No. 'Out of shape' implies that I was once in shape."

He does the same exercise, but he doesn't get to the toes either. Though granted, he does go further. "It's all right, don't push it. Straining can make it worse. Just reach as far as you can before it starts to hurt, then pull back, and do it again, maybe five times. Over time your body learns to go a little bit further than the last time, and that's the goal, rather than to touch your toes. Just listen to what your body's telling you your limits are."

She does exactly that, feeling pain like a ripping at the backs of her knees, but it isn't a bad feeling. It's the good pain you get when you stretch out a muscle that needs to be stretched. "Do you think I'll be good at this? This heroing thing?"

He thinks about that, trying not to take too long in answering for fear she'll think he's just trying to make her feel better. "I think you've got some good, sensible ideas about how to do things. If we get you in better shape, then I think so, yeah."

"I think so, too," she says, with a shy little smile. "At the risk of sounding arrogant... I hope I don't. It's the first thing I've been sure about in a long, long time. The first thing I've really wanted in the longest time, and sometimes you don't realize how much it is you want something 'til you say it aloud."

"So long as you're willing to work hard at it, I don't think it should be a problem." He offers her a little smile, and it's a little weird how comfortable he's becoming around her, although he's nervous about messing up his first attempt at teaching.

There are a few more stretches he shows her, for the upper body and the arms, and other key muscle groups that can use some limbering up.

"Cool. Cool." She stretches along with him, always careful of the moments when it hurts, not pushing far enough to hurt herself before she even starts. "Where I'm from, we don't have superheroes, but that's always what I wanted to be when I grew up."

"Let me guess... comic books?"

"Yeah. I read a lot of them. Still do. But, yeah. Reading so many comics has shown me where the fiction fails. Where the problems result, and what should rationally be put in place to fix it."

"Yeah, comics - especially the old ones - aren't always known for making logical sense. There might be things you'll have to throw out or adapt, but not until after you field test them to see how things hold up from theory."

"Totally. Mostly I've focused on the codes of behavior. Why is it right for Batman to smash skulls? Why would anyone throw someone else through a wall? Everyone thinks they're doing the right thing; that's why they do what they do. No one goes out thinking, 'Hey, I'm gonna be an evil person today for funsies'."

"Well. A vast majority of people don't, anyway." He used to think so, but he's seen things that make him doubt that, sometimes. Not very often, maybe once or twice.

"Yeah. I mean, there're always anomalies, but the vast majority of bad actions are done with intentions that are firmly based in logic and what's best for them to do, whether it's based on greed or need or fear. So I'm looking at my actions, flatly, not my motivations. For me... it doesn't make hitting someone any better if they hit me first. Hitting isn't right for me to do, no matter what my reason is. 'Cause it's a slippery slope. First I'm doing it to keep from getting hit myself. Then I'm hitting someone because they made me angry. And that's a bad reason."

"Is it okay to hit someone if you're sparring? Since, you know, we're not doing it to hurt each other."

"I don't know if I can," she says, after a long pause, redoing a stretch for her arms, moving them across her body. "I think I better stick to blocks and misdirections and stuff."

He nods slowly, thinking, revising his lesson plan. So to speak. "Blocking's good. I think we'll start with balance, and how to fall. It sounds silly and pointless, but there's ways to fall that keep you from getting hurt easily, or at all, and it's where most martial arts start."

"Thank you," she says, relieved, shoulders lowering, lips curling into a grin. She hadn't realized how freaked out the idea of hitting someone made her until that moment, and now she feels so much better. "Yeah, it sounds weird. But it makes sense, I think. From a physics standpoint."

"Exactly. I'll show you a couple of times before I start trying to push you over, don't worry. There's a bit of a trick to it, but once you get the hang of it, it's pretty easy." He smiles back at her. "I think that's enough for stretching, if you want to start in on the meat and potatoes of the lesson today."

"Yummy yummy meat and potatoes," she chirps, flexing her puny/nonexistent muscles, shifting lightly from foot to foot. "I'm totally ready. Let's do this."

"All right. First thing, I think, should be balance. You're short and skinny, and that usually works really well for evasion and being quick instead of trying to go toe to toe with someone twice your size. But that doesn't do you any good if you step wrong and fall over trying to get away."

He examines her stance, the way she's already reflexively imitating what she thinks is a good evasion stance. "You've got the general idea already. Your center of gravity is your friend, if you know how to use it right. Try to keep it centered above your feet, or you can get off-balance real quick. Keep your feet apart a little bit, it helps you stay stable."

She moves her feet a little further apart, shifts her weight a little forward, tiny adjustments to the way she holds herself, but she doesn't really know what she's doing, she's just a copier. While she's a bright girl, she's lost with anything that has to do with her body. Her shoulders are too straight, too stiff. "Where is my center of gravity, anyway?"

"For women, it tends to be about five inches above your belly button. A man's center of gravity is at the bottom of the sternum." He indicates on himself with his hands for each, to give her a visual idea. "It's not an exact science since everyone's bodies are different, but you'll get a feel for it."

She looks down to imagine five inches above her belly button, to picture where that is, where she has to protect, and she looks at where his sternum is when he moves his hand there. "I'll remember that."

He nods. "Good. Next is your feet. If you're standing still, you can be light on your feet without rocking forward or back too much, since those could put you off balance too." He demonstrates, turning to the side so she can see what his bare feet are doing when he takes a step, not quite flat-footed, a bit springy more than anything. "Lots of people think that this sort of thing's all about fancy kicks, but try to keep both feet on the ground as much as you can. Within reason, I mean."

((Last post for tonight, gotta run!))

"Like how those waterbugs stay floating on their feet. Distributing their weight across a greater surface area. Yeah, that makes sense. I feel wobbly standing on one foot, I can't imagine it'd be easier if my foot were moving." She wiggles her feet in her socks, tries to get that springiness she's seeing in Cole, and she moves her weight to the balls of her feet, keeping her heels on the ground, too, trying to copy.

((Rest well; have a great evening!))

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