Peg Kerr's Journal

Fiona went to take the second of two screenings for her next belt tonight.

She was worried going in because she was really not feeling up to par. She hasn't had a hard workout since the mugging, because of the medical restrictions. "And I feel tired," she said. "I've been feeling really tired for months now." I looked at her in the rear view mirror, worried. I wonder if she might actually be a touch anemic. She takes vitamins--when her Daddy nags her--but she barely eats any red meat or other high iron foods.

The kicking section was what was weak last time, but that seemed to go much better this time. Her balance looked rock-steady, and she kept her leg up at belt level. On form, I saw one bobble--she lost her grip on the bo with one hand mementarily--fortunately when she was facing away from the test examiner.

Then came self-defense. She started out as the attacker. I looked over at her and suddenly realized that she was in tears.

I was immediately alarmed. What had happened? Had her partner inadvertently hit her? This was the first time she had faced punches in a week. Was she having, god forbid, a flashback from the attack or something? Her back was toward the front of the room. She surreptitiously wiped her face several times and pulled herself together, and then switched to defense. It didn't look terribly solid. I don't think she twisted or transferred her weight on everything. But the examiner made no comment.

She came out for a water break and I made a bee-line to her side. "My skinned elbow [from the mugging] opened up again when she took me down with that sweep," she explained. "And I hit my head on the ground. Now my head really hurts."

The concussion I thought. Damn.

She got through paper kicks and pad strikes. Then everyone suited up for sparring.

Sparring did not go well, and I could immediately tell that something was different. It took me a little bit to realize what it was.

She was paired up with another woman, slightly bigger and heavier, and she was retreating. She was doing nothing but retreating. And that wasn't like her at all. Fiona fights guys MUCH bigger than her all the time, and usually she's really aggressive.

The examiner stopped the bout a couple of times, directing his comments to her, telling her to change direction, to keep outside the red zone. The bout resumed, and she continued retreating. I clenched my fists. Toward the end, I saw that she was in tears again.

The bout ended and both were dismissed. I followed her to the back, where she took off her gear methodically, stopping to wipe away the tears on her face as she removed piece by piece. I handed her the water and helped her pack her kit bag.

I was so afraid of saying the wrong thing. "I'm really proud of you, honey. It was so hard, but you got in there and you did it."

She leaned her forehead against mine, obviously spent and still upset.

"Fiona..." I hesitated. "I could go and speak with the examiner for you. I could tell him what happened to you last week, so he can take it into consideration. But I won't do it unless you give me permission."

She thought about it, and finally nodded. "Yeah, why don't you tell him." She wiped her face again. "I hate being a girl when it makes me cry like this."

"I know," I sympathized. "I do it, too, always at the time when it's most humiliating."

So when everyone had finished sparring and had left to pack up their gear, I went to have a quiet word with Mr. Worley. "I just wanted to ask...um, did our head instructor tell you what happened to Fiona last week?"

He looked puzzled. "No."

"She was mugged. This is the first time she's fought since it happened. She was on medical restriction because she had a grade one concussion. I just thought--with what happened with the sparring and everything--maybe you should know." I was assailed by sudden doubt. Was it a mistake to tell him? Would he think I was an overprotective parent, just making excuses for an inadequate performance?

He looked shocked. "No, I didn't know that. I'm very sorry that she went through that. I think she fought okay. She was facing a larger opponent, after all. She just needed to work on her movement."

I nodded, and quashed the absurd urge to apologize for making the explanation.

I took Fiona out for ice cream. She was so tired that she only managed a half a dozen bites, and then she threw the rest of it away.

Came home where we got a call from our head instructor. He told me he'd spoken with Mr. Worley, and so he was calling us to apologize for his oversight in not passing along to Mr. Worley Fiona's situation. They would not have made her fight, had they known. But the good news is, Fiona passed the screening.

So, now Fiona, although still very tired, is extremely happy. She is testing for her second degree black belt on Saturday, July 31, at 9:00 a.m.