My first encounter with a Krav Maga “go class” was staggering. Completely unexpectant of the intensity of the impending session, we all strapped on gloves, stretched, and waited for the class to commence. The class began with running laps around the room. Dad wisely advised me to keep at a moderate pace, in order to save my energy. My legs were beginning to protest and my arms were growing weak from blocking when the instructor eventually shouted, “Now squats.” Squats were followed by more running, bunny hopping, seal crawling, and pushups.Then came one of the hardest parts. I had to run, scan, and punch while my partner, Grant, gave me resistance by tugging on a belt that was wrapped around me. After a while, Grant and I switched places, and I attempted the task of being Grant’s opposition. Halfway through the ordeal, Dad took my place, enabling me to indulge in a water break. I reveled in the few moments of rest, but soon was forced to resume action. The class continued, complete with more running, punching, and kneeing. An attendant was sprawled on the sidelines, shirts were drenched, faces were crimson, and everyone was breathing heavily when the class finally came to a close. With great relief, I lifted my fatigued self off the hardwood floor and swept back the damp hair from my forehead. That was a class none of us would readily forget.
Written February, 2013