Take a self-defense class
Feel Your Own Power
This week I took a self-defense class for women with my teenage daughter. The local sheriff's department offered it as part of their crime-prevention program. I'd never taken one, and I thought it would be a fun and useful mommy-daughter experience. It was eye-opening, muscle-challenging, yelling at the top of your lungs fantastic!
Twenty women of all ages, with several mom and daughter teams assembled in a dreary building to learn from Shawn and Jamie, local cops who specialized in the training. Shawn was 6 foot four with tattoos covering both arms and built like a tank. Jamie was a woman, tall and blond with the straight body of an athlete. There was no question that these people had encountered their share of dirtbags in their career. To both of their credit they'd managed to maintain their senses of humor.
Talking about self-defense
First we learned about the best tear gas, (stream, not spray) the right way to use your keys as a weapon, and all the everyday things we do that can put you at risk. Like parking your car by a van (so the bad guy can drag you into it) drinking from a drink someone else got for you, (get your own drink so nobody can slip a date-rape drug in it) and not locking your doors. Seriously--people still do that?
Sufficiently scared that now I should never leave my house--and while in my house I should have all doors and windows locked, a can of tear gas by my side and a big dog at my feet, we went to upstairs for the real deal.
Fighting
We entered an even more dreary room with padded walls and wall-to-wall mats. High on the walls were posters that read, "The more we sweat in training, the less we bleed on the streets," and "The difference between sport and combat is in combat you bury the one who comes in second."
We learned how to stand like a cop, always ready for combat. Then we learned how to hit. This is a mysterious thing for women. As girls, we don't learn how to do that. Guys do, we don't. We learned how to use all the weight of our bodies and how to yell, really yell, while hitting. The gym was filled with 2 dozen women yelling like fierce warriors.
Then it was time for real combat. Shawn and another guy cop, Josh, (who my daughter commented was really hot) suited up in bad-guy wear. All black outfits. Padded so we couldn't hurt them. At least not fatally, though Shawn said he'd had more than one concussion in the class. Then one by one we began to experience combat.
We were given real-life scenarios. You're in the grocery parking lot. You're walking to your car after the football game. Shawn and Josh played the bad guys perfectly, with exactly the dialog every woman has heard.
"Hey baby, you're looking fine." "You got the time?" "Hey don't I know you?"
Each woman took her turn. Get into combat stance. Try to verbally make them go away. "Back off! Back off!" Then fight. Fight to survive. Fight to get away.
100 Pounds of Fierceness
It was an empowering experience to see several tiny women battle their way out. I'd never heard so much fearsome noise come from the mouth of girl who couldn't have been more than 100 pounds. My daughter was slammed against the wall, carried, and tossed to the ground and she fought him off,her long red hair twisting around her. I was so proud of her.
In my encounter I heeded the "fight early and fight hard" technique. I threw the first punch. Kicked. I experienced what Shawn had talked about-the tunnel vision effect. Where all you see is a very small circle directly in front of you. It's why people have a hard time remembering details. I don't remember what Josh said to me before the encounter. All I remember is his giant chest in my face. I forgot to yell. But I got away. That's what counts.
When we left, it was dark. All of us had our keys in our hands, holding them properly so they could be used as a weapon if needed. We looked around. We felt prepared.
Take a self defense class. It's fun. It's empowering. And where else can you scream at the top of your lungs?
(Make a comment and let me know what other topics you'd like to read about!)
This week I took a self-defense class for women with my teenage daughter. The local sheriff's department offered it as part of their crime-prevention program. I'd never taken one, and I thought it would be a fun and useful mommy-daughter experience. It was eye-opening, muscle-challenging, yelling at the top of your lungs fantastic!
Twenty women of all ages, with several mom and daughter teams assembled in a dreary building to learn from Shawn and Jamie, local cops who specialized in the training. Shawn was 6 foot four with tattoos covering both arms and built like a tank. Jamie was a woman, tall and blond with the straight body of an athlete. There was no question that these people had encountered their share of dirtbags in their career. To both of their credit they'd managed to maintain their senses of humor.
Talking about self-defense
First we learned about the best tear gas, (stream, not spray) the right way to use your keys as a weapon, and all the everyday things we do that can put you at risk. Like parking your car by a van (so the bad guy can drag you into it) drinking from a drink someone else got for you, (get your own drink so nobody can slip a date-rape drug in it) and not locking your doors. Seriously--people still do that?
Sufficiently scared that now I should never leave my house--and while in my house I should have all doors and windows locked, a can of tear gas by my side and a big dog at my feet, we went to upstairs for the real deal.
Fighting
We entered an even more dreary room with padded walls and wall-to-wall mats. High on the walls were posters that read, "The more we sweat in training, the less we bleed on the streets," and "The difference between sport and combat is in combat you bury the one who comes in second."
We learned how to stand like a cop, always ready for combat. Then we learned how to hit. This is a mysterious thing for women. As girls, we don't learn how to do that. Guys do, we don't. We learned how to use all the weight of our bodies and how to yell, really yell, while hitting. The gym was filled with 2 dozen women yelling like fierce warriors.
Then it was time for real combat. Shawn and another guy cop, Josh, (who my daughter commented was really hot) suited up in bad-guy wear. All black outfits. Padded so we couldn't hurt them. At least not fatally, though Shawn said he'd had more than one concussion in the class. Then one by one we began to experience combat.
We were given real-life scenarios. You're in the grocery parking lot. You're walking to your car after the football game. Shawn and Josh played the bad guys perfectly, with exactly the dialog every woman has heard.
"Hey baby, you're looking fine." "You got the time?" "Hey don't I know you?"
Each woman took her turn. Get into combat stance. Try to verbally make them go away. "Back off! Back off!" Then fight. Fight to survive. Fight to get away.
100 Pounds of Fierceness
It was an empowering experience to see several tiny women battle their way out. I'd never heard so much fearsome noise come from the mouth of girl who couldn't have been more than 100 pounds. My daughter was slammed against the wall, carried, and tossed to the ground and she fought him off,her long red hair twisting around her. I was so proud of her.
In my encounter I heeded the "fight early and fight hard" technique. I threw the first punch. Kicked. I experienced what Shawn had talked about-the tunnel vision effect. Where all you see is a very small circle directly in front of you. It's why people have a hard time remembering details. I don't remember what Josh said to me before the encounter. All I remember is his giant chest in my face. I forgot to yell. But I got away. That's what counts.
When we left, it was dark. All of us had our keys in our hands, holding them properly so they could be used as a weapon if needed. We looked around. We felt prepared.
Take a self defense class. It's fun. It's empowering. And where else can you scream at the top of your lungs?
(Make a comment and let me know what other topics you'd like to read about!)
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