Sarah Connor (know_your_exits) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2010-09-03 05:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | open, parker, sarah connor |
Who: Sarah and OPEN
When: Morning
Where: Complex gym
What: Exercise
Rating: TBD
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Sarah had started the day like any other she'd done before. Wake up with a shower. Make breakfast. Attend a couple of the training classes. Write in her journal until she was able to record them on tapes.. or CDs, as they do nowadays. Her next order of business would be to do a workout in the gym once again. She knew as well as anyone that it was important to be consistent, to stay in good physical shape. None of the warriors of old would last too long if they simply stood around in boredom. Not that she was bored. She still had a purpose, albeit shifted a little. The Apocalypse had already begun. She had yet to see the earth on fire like in her dreams, but there was still danger out in the world. The Devil was walking around out there. The difference was that instead of metal.. instead of machines walking around in flesh.. it was demons and monsters that needed to be worried about. It was one of the reasons why she had stepped forward a while back when others were offering to teach, and opting to teach a class herself as well as attend the others. She could train people. She had done it before. She had actually been on both sides of the fence as both trainee and instructor. Sarah was confident that she could do this.
And so she had now come to the gym area, dressed in simple workout track pants, running shoes, and a dark tank top. Nothing constrictive, just simple wear. The woman glanced at the clock as she approached the punching bag. An hour seemed like a good time to do this for. She had done warm ups first, however. Basic stretches, crunches, jumps, push-ups, and other exercises that those in boot camp were familiar with. Best to warm up beforehand than go right to the action, lest risk an injury due to carelessness. Sarah had been at it for fifteen minutes and then stood back up on her feet. She was prepared. Going toward the bag, she dropped into a fighting stance, feet slightly apart with fists raised. And then the fight was started. She attacked the mass as she would an enemy soldier. Every type of enemy was different; what worked with one opponent would need to be amended when dealing with another. She continued to pound with her fists, one punch after another with machine-like precision. Then she threw in a few good kicks to it, striking it at low level as though she were hitting the side of a kneecap; an effective take-down method to say the least. Then a few knew strikes which were followed by elbows, then punches once again. Never the same pattern for too long, yet each strike held damaging potential behind the movements. An enemy could adapt. It was best to mix it up, surprise them with the unexpected and unorthodox.