Girl meets love, girl loses love...

Thursday was a long day. I have students due for grading so I forced myself to train despite my exhaustion from college and the energy-sapping heat of this English spring. Or maybe this is summer, all 8 days of it. Whatever...

I've not been training regularly since January. I still teach every week but I'd lost the love of training for myself. Nothing sudden, no major revelation, just a creeping series of events that sneakily joined forces to become something bigger than the sum of it's parts, black and malevolent.

Initially, a change of club leadership led to a few of my close mates leaving, the atmosphere was different. Not bad - the new sensei is both extremely technically able and a good mate - just, different.

Unfortunately my mixed-up mind took different and created indifference. The sofa called louder than the dojo and, for the first time in five years, won. I found myself running admin rather than physically running round at gradings. I love working with Mrs Sensei, I love seeing paperwork come together.

I lost the love for training.

The love I'd clung to for five years, the constant that had been there for me, physically and emotionally, withered away. The depression bastard ate the remains of it and spat out the bones. My weight went up with increased alcohol consumption and that 'settled' thing that happens when you realise this relationship is for the long haul.

Anyway, to cut a long story into a merely rambling tale, I went to training. I took the 'who's she?' ribbing with good grace and lined up. I remembered, amongst the giggles and the punches, that I had damn good mates here. I scored a minor victory when a bloke that always pushes into the line ahead of me was put in his place lower down after having to openly admit his grade. I was proud of my students.

I found my love again.