Monday, March 9, 2009

Ammo

She is from the south. I thought I lived south but this lady is really south.
Her drawl is pure “Southern Belle”.
She loves the gloves and loves to hit.
The “smack” of leather on leather is pure and loud. When she is on the mitts with the trainer it is like a well orchestrated dance.
She is high caliber and automatic. There is no thinking as she runs through the sparring routines, one, two, on and on to twelve, no missed beats, no missed hits; all the same staccato rhythm; pouring sweat, pouring jabs, uppercuts, right crosses, on and on.
Then on to the heavy bag, pop, pop, pop, BANG.
Punches rain down on the poor defenseless patron of the corner.
I often wonder how arguments end up in her house.
She is powered by generous amounts of caffeine.
She would be a great addition to the commercial showing some guy up in the hills picking coffee beans.
“Hey Juan,” she would yell up the hill, “just give me the beans and I’ll eat them straight up.”
“Who needs all that brewing and excess water?”
She is an aerobic machine.
Some days she goes to ultimate training at noon and then again in the early evening. She is in the gym almost every day at lunch and three days a week in Boot Camp and I really have no idea of how many days she devotes to spinning.
Lithe and well muscled, she is topped with a generous amount of red hair.
This shouldn’t surprise you after the above description.
My first thought after seeing her in action, “Wow, Tigger really lives, but he is a she”.
She laughs, smiles and never quits and I don’t believe she has ever met a stranger except there is hardly a session that goes by without her telling me; “you are crazy”.
I think she means it in a kind way or maybe she has met a stranger.

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