"Sean McMullen - Pacing the Nightmare" - читать интересную книгу автора (McMullen Sean)

bodystocking with a fluorescent red and green trunk and a pair of pursed lips on each buttock. That is all
that stands out in my memory for the first few months, until the night that she was awarded her yellow
belt. Her parents were there, and after training they accosted me at random from among the black belts.
They asked why she was becoming so thin, they were worried that she was displaying symptoms of
anorexia nervosa. I laughed off the suggestion, and explained that many karate students lose weight
during the first year of training, but that it comes back as muscle.
They were reassured. Melissa was very precious to them, they explained. She was an only child, an
in-vitro fertilisation baby from a program in the early 1990's. I promised that I would take a special
interest in her. I had just begun my PhD in cytology, and the combination of this and my recently acquired
black belt made them trust me well beyond my competence.
Legs apart, push down, stretch, stretch. I would stretch better with a few days of rest yet I cannot
afford that.
The warm-ups are over. "Floor, please," calls the sensei, then he turns to me. "Would you look after
white belts, Greg?" That accent! Asian, African and Arabic academics with Oxford or even American
accents are understandable, but a Japanese from Yorkshire?
Forty minutes of muscle development follows warm-ups. Much of it is for the abdominal muscles,
because a karateka's strength comes mainly from the abdomen. Fifty leg-raises, thirty jacknives, two
hundred sit-ups, I do it all, I push myself to do it all. Most beginners do a fraction of what is required,
and even the senior karatekas do not push themselves particularly hard. Melissa does more of everything:
eighty leg-raises, fifty jacknives, three hundred sit-ups, and I know that she has already trained at least
twice today. Her eyes are huge brown disks in a gaunt, drawn face, and her arms are like thin, hard
robotic manipulators. For all her skeletal frame, though, she is surprisingly heavy.
***


As white belts karatekas learn the basic movements, as yellow belts they work on adding power, but
more subtle considerations come at orange belt. Students have to become conscious of good style, and
to maintain and improve it in everything that they do. Upon reaching orange belt Melissa decided that she
needed a personal sensei. Through sheer coincidence a PhD student in cytology was the instructor that
she imprinted on.
On nights that I do instructing I stay back to do extra training for myself. Melissa often stayed to
watch, and finally she came over to ask if she could train with me.
"Why not, but remember that I'm doing this to maintain my own technique. I won't give you much
time."
"I understand, thank you." She stared at the floor. Something was bothering her. "What... do you think
of me?" Her words came with difficulty.
"You train harder than anyone I've ever known. I'm impressed. At first I didn't think you would even
reach the second lesson."
Something seemed to burst within her. "Greg, please help me, I need someone who knows about
karate to... to tell me if I'm... all right. Please understand, I've given up so much to be a good karateka,
and I don't know why! Now the instructors ignore me, I'm still losing weight, I've stopped menstruating
without being pregnant-- "
Her outburst, her distress was a surprise. She had seemed so self-confident until then.
"All right, calm down and we'll take the last one first. Some women do stop menstruating when they
train very hard."
"They do?"
"They do. I did a sub-thesis on it. As far as your technique goes, it's very good, the best in your group.
If the instructors ignore you it's because you need little correction. Don't take things so seriously."
A week after she was awarded her orange belt her parents returned to ambush me again. They were
comfortably rich, yet they did not have the smug, bland, boring manner that I have come to expect from