Skip to main content

"And When I Die..."

I must be in a sing song period of my life... So, here goes. That song by Blood, Sweat, and Tears, "And When I Die", rang through my head this morning.  Oddly I thought,  'when was the last time I listened to that CD of theirs with that song on it?' About six weeks ago, I remembered.  I was shadow-boxing in a room where I'd just ripped up the carpeting from.  It covered the floor for over a decade.
The carpet, for over the past seven years had wrestling mats over most of it. It was in the main area of the basement. Yes, before we allowed our oldest to commandeer that part of the basement over two years ago for privacy.  It had been a wrestling basement.  A few of my old teammates from the Asylum Fight Gym would come over and roll with me and each other.  We would coach each other on my basement floor. Usually Saturday mornings and sometimes I'd throw in a Wednesday night at nine o'clock, after work and after I tucked the kids in. 
It's funny, we never hurt each other, neither did anything in the basement get damaged. Except our youngest's Lincoln Log Barn she had built in 2013. Oh yeah, Peter and Tom knocked near it once. A little piece came off. Peter quickly paused being in Tom's guard. Peter keeping Tom at bay with top pressure, reached up and fixed the approximate two by one inch Lincoln Log on the Barn. This, as Tom attempted to sweep Peter to gain top position. Peter a  well-balanced individual fought MMA in Japan years before. I believe it was in a bar. I'm still shaking my head. Yes, many MMA fights professional and amateurs are fought in bars. Yes, sanctioned by the state/country. And no kidding, hockey arenas too.
My husband of thirty years at the time was cool with us wrestling in our basement. Peter was my main wrestling/grappling training partner for nearly eight years. All six foot four inches and 189lbs of him. Norm would meet the guys before they began the training each time in our basement.  Sometimes our daughters would come down and watch. Sometimes he did.  Our youngest was the most enthused.
She would see two to four people wrestling at a time. Or one person coaching the two people who were wrestling/grappling together. That was more the usual. If I had a fight coming up, we'd work ground and pound with four ounce gloves. Two people wrestling/grappling on the ground with element of allowing punches hard to the body, legs, arms, but we would refrain from whacking the guys in the head though. This way, especially if they had jobs like teaching they wouldn't look beat up. As well, less of a liability.
Oh, the comments from our youngest at times had us laughing as we wrestled/grappled. Then we'd commandeer her to video sections of the training to send to our old coach at the time living 2,000 miles away in Las Vegas for further coaching and critiquing.
The basement wrestling/grappling was phased out as schedules changed. I found a welcoming Boxing Gym in 2016. I was totally digging it too. Yet, I missed the ground work, the training. By March 2019 I signed up for BJJ with gi training.  I'd not worn a gi for any form of ground work ever. I was and probably still am what my coach Phil Dunlap calls "Raw". My husband used to kid around and call me "Cavewoman". "Raw" and "Cavewoman" have the same inferences. And it is who I am and how I think. I start with the basics, always. And quite often I retract back to them for a reset, especially before a New Year.---Jody-Lynn Reicher 


Popular posts from this blog

Completion of Humanness

Completion of Humanness As we arrive to the completion of the first year without Norman, I had decided long before he'd passed that I would continue to do things certain things he liked yet could no longer do. I decided I would not take a day off of fitness.  I would run at least for 500 days in a row. I began that in early 2020.  I'd not be concerned with the distance I'd run. It was the very thing I convinced Norman and the thing that mattered to him, from the very first discussion we had August 11th, 1981, was fitness. I loved that he was a College Boy. He loved that I was a Marine. We tickled each other's soul with such admirations. Later fitness continued as an old discussion from 1994 ...getting outside and to run no matter what. I would say to him, "Run 200 meters, then 400 meters. If it doesn't feel good, stop. Turn around and walk back home and know you did your best. That is all you can ask of yourself." I said this,  knowing he would get dow

In My World

As I finish putting away the week's groceries, I contemplate other's lives. Aside from my two daughters,  I consider what may be other's lives.  How they have conducted their lives over the past two years.  This is a thought not unusual for me to have. Yet, it occurs more often than not. Especially  now, as the population is probably feeling ever more irked. Regarding perhaps. their illusion of any lack of their freedom. But isn't that what life is about? The illusion of who we are. What we are about. Where we stand on the planet. Who we love. And who loves us. Our significance. Couldn't we imagine if this were all just an illusion? Sounds like a "Twighlight Zone" episode, perhaps. My aim here, are the thoughts of reckoning. I'll explain why I'm claiming such a thing. For about twenty-eight years of a career in dealing with injured athletes,  pain patients, chronically ill and the terminally ill. I found that there were many people who lied to

Reicher's 2021 Holiday Letter

  11/23/2021... The Reicher Holiday Letter... Yes, finally I'm on time...LOL. As the late November wind whips and the delayed leaves fall to the ground in our neighborhood, I await the first sign of snow. I stand outside, begin a run, do outside chores, bring in the mail and sniff the air for the smell of snow. Yes, humans can smell snow. Just like a spring rain approaching. It is awaiting to provide a cleansing of the dreams that need to be refreshed or re-routed. It’s all how you look at it. Really. Oh, the word ‘really’.   Per a few grammar writing geeks. A good writer is not supposed to use the word, ‘really’. I’ll say it again. Really? There is another word I discovered this year, not supposed to be used in writing by writers. I cannot at this moment remember what word that may be.   But I’m sure, it’ll arrive in my mind as I write this Holiday letter to you all. A reading audience. Where to begin this 2021 Reicher Holiday Letter? I’ll start with our smallest resident. T