My friends Dave and Lori talked me into going to a Krav Maga class. I was supposed to attend last week but instead decided to sit on the 7th row at the Jazz game. I enlisted Meags to attend with me and in preparation for the class, I watched Krav Maga videos. I'm not sure that was a good idea. We arrived for the class and Dave and Lori were nowhere to be found. We waited and decided that if they didn't show up by 7:14p, we would head home. At 7:13, Dave and his son drove into the parking lot and my heart stopped beating.
The class started and we ran in one direction. Dropped to the floor. Ran in the other direction. Push-ups. Jumping Jacks. We found a partner and did knee kicks and punches for what seemed like hours. Ran more and people then went outside to puke. Not me. I'm tough.
The next part of the class involved learning how to protect loved ones. I learned to take a gun from someone and then the choke hold. I'm pretty sure I will recall these moves if ever attacked, but I would kindly ask the attacker to recreate the exact things I learned in class to make it easier. I came away with some killer moves and a bruised jaw, courtesy of a Krav Maga instructor.