The next section of my Non-fiction
It’s been a while since I posted. I’m juggling three books at once. But here is a little more of my non-fiction.
Please forgive me if I’m rambling. This is literally my first draft. If it ever makes it to publication I’ll clean it up.
I opened the black painted Hard Drive doors to find a long room separated by a wood wall covered in pads. Like I expected, there were punching bags hanging from the ceiling. The only one there was a guy about my height. He was blond, tattooed, and very muscular.
Now, before I go on, let me introduce this man. From the moment I met him, Keoni was someone who I respected. It wasn’t because of his skill as a martial artist even though it should be. He started his gym in 1999 when MMA was something done in secret. States outlawed it. According to them and most of society, it was dangerous.
No, he commands respect because he has lived many lives in the short amount of years he’s been on this planet. He is easily one of the most intelligent people I know. He will sit down and talk to you on pretty much any subject and his insight with blow you away. I love sitting down and conversing with him.
On that day, he took a obese woman and made her start believing in herself. It had been years since I believed in myself. I even thought I wasn’t a very good writer. He patiently instructed me in what to do. He set me up to do “wall drills” – a slow, deliberate exercise of a jab, cross, hook, cross and knee. I did them over and over. I did them at home. Things slowly fell into place.
As I said before, I dabbled in several different sports. Dragon boating, rugby, you name it. Now, I was trying to fight. This was definitely not supposed to be the fit. But I felt like I belonged there. Keoni encouraged me. He didn’t make me feel like I didn’t belong like I had before in other sports. As I was about to leave, he informed me that I would feel fine at first but the pain would slowly set in. It did. I could barely move twenty-four hours later. But I loved it. I was hooked.
During kickboxing practice over the next few months it was usually just Keoni and me. No one else had signed up to be a regular part of the class at that time. One day another guy showed up to work the bag. At first glance, I have to admit he scared me a little. He was bald, also tattooed with piercings in his ears and nose. Keoni asked him to work with me. He agreed and came over to introduce himself. His name was Shannon.
Shannon is my pure definition of never judging a book by the cover. He joked with me to get me to loosen up. He was patient with me. And to this day his is a close friend and one of the sweetest, kindest, most genuine people I know. By the end of that practice I had gotten a little better at what I was doing and felt more and more like I belonged.