Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and the art of non-puking | The Cloudfoot Diaries #39

puke-bucket

“Hang on a minute, Doug.”
Slumped in the passenger chair of his red Mazda, I pleaded to open the window, my overheated face now blending in with the car’s paint job.

“If I have to go mate, I’ll just lean out of the window and projectile into the hard shoulder, OK?” This was my contingency plan, just in case I couldn’t hold it down. You have to make these back-up plans when it’s not your vehicle.

The last time I had felt this nauseous was when I’d inhaled river water combined with taking a slam off of a slackline. This time, I’d just finished my second ever NoGi class at Andy Roberts’ Brazilian Jiu Jitsu Academy.

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