Week 10 Prompt, 3 of 3

47. Nature red in tooth and claw. The Law of the Jungle. Survival of the Fittest.

I think I’m going to die.  My legs are shaking so hard, I don’t understand how I’m still standing.  “Concentrate!” one of my instructors barks at me.  I try to breathe in slowly, but it only exacerbates the dryness of my throat.  I just washed my uniform and it’s already coated in sweat.  I dare a glance at the clock.  This test has only been going on for 15 minutes.  It already feels like an hour has passed.  I try not to think of it, and of course the crawling of time is now all I can think of.

…

I hate drills.  They’re so monotonous.  “Front two-knuckle punch!  Back two-knuckle punch!”  One of my instructors stands in a relaxed stance, calling out all the different strikes.  I try to concentrate and give each one my all.  They’ve been hinting that they’ll be testing me soon, but they never tell you the exact day.  Sometimes you just show up and BAM, it’s test day.  I’m usually really bad about bringing bottles of water to class with me.  Not these days.

…

“Now stand in crane stance until I get back.”  I groan inwardly as the teacher walks out of the room.  I stand on one leg, knee slightly bent, the other leg up and bent, the toes lined up with my knee.  This random command isn’t unexpected.  There are mind games during the test, as well as tests of endurance.  I know that if my other leg comes down even a bit and they catch me, I’ll have to do pushups, or maybe worse.  I have great balance, but man, am I out of shape.  I breathe hard, sweat sliding down my neck.  There’s only one entrance to this side room.  I watch it like a hawk as I periodically put my leg on the ground.  Another instructor comes into the room and my leg darts back up, before he can see.  I thank god when he tells me to start something new.  I don’t think my left leg could’ve withstood a minute more.

…

“Do all your kicks, in order, two on each leg.  Go!”  John’s a really good guy.  He knows remembering moves and kicks in sequence is a problem for me.  He drills me again and again, wanting me to get the most out of my practices before the test.  We laugh at my mistakes, the unwillingness of my brain to function when I most need it.  Eventually I get through all the kicks in order.  I feel so nervous, even though it’s just a regular practice day.  My legs are already so tired; I don’t know how I’m going to survive the test.  I’m looking at the clock again.

…

I’m looking at the clock again, and there’s only 15 minutes of class time left.  But sometimes tests go over the class time, especially the higher in belt rank you get.  I remember one of the black belts telling me his test was several days of testing.  Some people are anxious to move up in rank.  Me, I’m happy staying put.  “Now do that form with your eyes closed.”  I close my eyes and move through the form, a martial arts dance of sorts, slow and paranoid of bumping into anything.  Another mind game.  God I hope this is over soon.

…

I kneel on the foam floor, hands in my lap.  “Remove your belts.  Dismissed.”  This is how every class ends.  I slowly slide my belt off, looking at its color and trying to imagine a new one soon.  This belt is old and comfortable; I’ll miss it.  I should practice more in my free time, I think.  I do eventually, a couple of brief times, but overall I’m always horrible about practicing outside of class.  The morning I suspect will be my testing day I practice forms, kicks, and punches in my dirt driveway.  I look down at all the marks my feet left, when I’m done.  I sigh, thinking of how I’ll never feel ready enough, no matter how much I practice.  Still, I regret the lack of practice.  I grab an extra water bottle, just to be safe, and get into my car.

…

It’s done, it’s finally done, and I can drink all the water I want and talk again.  Some students have trouble with that part of the test, not being allowed to talk.  I’m a regular old chatter box, but I’m too frozen with fear to walk to talk on test days.  I limp to the back of the classroom, to sit down.  They hand me a certificate.  It’s no surprise; the main instructor makes it a point of never testing a student unless they’re ready to move to the next level.  Still, I feel grateful.  Grateful for the certificate, but mostly grateful that the worst part of the day is done.  It’ll be another couple of weeks before I get my act together and order my new belt.  But that’s okay.  I’ll enjoy the memories attached to this one for just a bit longer.