The Hammer Unfalls

1.6 The Tipping Point



1.6 The Tipping Point

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Glim sighed an exaggerated sigh and flopped onto the ground. “Not the stepping drill.” Talk about useless. The stepping drill was about as fun as trying to push down the walls of Wohn-Grab with his bare hands. And about as fruitful.

“Yes, the stepping drill.”

“But I never win at it!”

“Win? You win by learning. And I weigh four times as much as you. How do you expect to win?”

“What am I supposed to learn by being pushed around like a rag doll?”

“It will all make sense later. But since you’re already flopping around on the floor, I might as well show you something that might help you.” He knelt beside Glim and rolled him onto his back. “Roll over, rag doll. Now put your knees up. Lay back straight. Good.”

“What am I doing this for?”

“Posture is very important in the step drill. Especially how you position your tailbone. Your back needs to be straight and your tailbone curled under a bit. Just like it is now. I’ll show you why in a minute. For now, think about your feet and your hips. The way you are now, there’s no weight on your feet, right? They’re just resting there.”

Glim lifted his feet from the ground and set them back down. They did feel comfortable, so he nodded.

“Now lift your bottom up from the ground. How do your feet feel now?”

“They’re working harder.”

“And where do you feel it?”

“In my thighs.”

“And?”

Glim searched his body for where it felt tight. “In my shoulders.”

“That’s right. This is exactly how you do not want your posture to be. Settle back down. Feel how your tailbone kind of curled under? And your back is straight? That’s how you want to be when you’re standing.”

Glim started to rise, but his father stopped him. “Not so fast. While you’re still rolling around on the floor, I might as well show you something else.”

“What now?” Glim whined.

“Hey now, you’re the one who flopped down there in the first place. So we’re going to pretend you were knocked down onto the ground. You need to practice the right way to get up. If you don’t learn how to get back on your feet quickly, you’re going to be in trouble fast.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Skewered.”

His father swung his sword into the ground right next to Glim’s belly. Glim’s back vibrated as a loud crack echoed through the room. He shivered and paid closer attention. “Okay, how do I do it?”

“It’s a special kind of rolling. Put your legs down. Stretch your arm out above your head. Now I need you to roll along your shoulders and come up, like this.” His father grabbed his arm and tilted him sideways, so the floor rolled along the curve of his back. “Good! Now touch your left foot with your right hand.”

Glim sat up and stretched his hand out until he touched his toe.

“Keep your other hand behind you for support. Now roll back the other way, and touch your right foot with your left hand.”

Glim rolled along the floor again, feeling vaguely ridiculous as he did so.

“Keep it up. Really get a feel for how your body is moving as you roll. Keep loose. Your head isn’t hitting the ground. Your shoulders are. When you hit the ground in a fight, you’ll want to get to one of these two positions as quickly as possible.”

“I need to touch my toes?”

He laughed. “Sort of. Just keep rolling around. Stay relaxed. Feel how your spine is gently rolling. This is the feeling you want when you’re attempting to regain your footing. Not a lot of strain or tightness. Just loosey goosey.”

Glim giggled.

“Who’s my floppy little goose?” his father said, smiling.

Glim laughed again and made exaggerated flopping movements.

“Freeze!” his father called out. “The trick to getting up off the ground quickly is to get your hips over your feet. If your feet are stretched out like that, you’ll be grunting like a pig trying to get up. So how do you get your hips over your foot?”

Glim contorted his body, trying to move his hips into the air. Indeed, he did grunt.

“Or you could try this,” his father said, and scooted Glim’s foot close to his body. Glim immediately felt his momentum shift and he rose easily.

“Exactly right! Now that you’re standing up, I might as well show you something else.”

Glim groaned. “Father!”

“Do you want to ‘win’ at the step drill?”

Glim nodded.

“To do that, you need to keep your tailbone in the position I showed you. Back straight. For example, if I push on you now,” he said, pointing a finger at Glim’s sternum and pushing, “you’ll move right aside. But straighten your back and tuck your tailbone under. Bend your knees. Now, see how much better that is?” He pushed Glim again, but this time he didn’t move nearly as much.

Something clicked in Glim’s mind. The way he’d been pushed, and how he swayed. This new stance, although awkward, felt much more stable. He felt the pressure move through him into the ground.

His father nodded. “Seems like you’re ready for the stepping drill. Tell me the rules.”

“We get into our stance, push and tug on each other, and whoever takes a step—that’s me— loses.”

“Very good, son! Are you ready?”

Glim sighed and grabbed his father’s elbows. He tugged down on them, and twisted them. His father countered by pressing against him.

“Think about where the pressure is. Stay balanced. Be ready for me to switch at any moment. Don’t over commit. Like this.”

Glim had just pushed hard on his father’s forearm, who gripped him right back and pulled. Glim felt his balance tipping, and stepped forward.

They started over. Glim leaned against his father and tried to duck under his arm so he could shove him aside with his shoulder. His father merely stood rigid and did not move, then stiffened his arm and pushed.

“Think about your tailbone. Keep your back straight. When you shove me like that, you need to scoot your bottom out so that your balance stays over your feet.”

They moved as if frozen in a dance, unable to move their feet, and clamoring for advantage. Every time Glim tried a new way to tug his father off balance, he shifted or tugged Glim into the void he’d just created.

Glim sighed as irritation rose inside him, clouding his thoughts.

“What does this even have to do with sword fighting?” he asked. Perhaps more grumpily than was warranted.

“You’ll learn that soon enough. For now think of it like observing the information my body is telling you. When I apply pressure, what happens to you? When I pivot my hips, or dip my shoulder, what happens next? The step drill is all about getting a feel for movement, and maintaining balance.”

Balance. There went that word went again. Both father and Master Willow talked about it with reverence. Glim didn’t get what the big deal was. All he heard was “blah, blah, blah, balance. Hum de dum dum, balance. Balance this. Balance that.”

As he and father continued their slow motion slap fight, and he kept falling over enough to step out of his stance, Glim made up a song.

Balance this. Balance that.

You outweigh me cause you’re fat.

Balance down. Balance up.

Stepping drills make me throw up.

The song made him feel a little better, and he smiled to himself. Just as father tugged him and he fell forward a step.

Singing about balance and taking that step towards the stone floor brought Glim’s dream rushing back. He felt a lurch in the pit of his stomach and instinctively clenched. He flung his bottom backwards to counteract the step.

Too late to save him this time. But the memory of the floor in the dream, how it gave way so easily under the weight of his foot, tickled the back of his mind. What was the floor trying to tell him?

Glim tugged at his father’s arms in vain. He shoved his belly. No matter what he did, his father simply swayed like a branch in the wind.

There has to be a way, he thought. There’s something here. I know it.

He recalled the feeling of stepping forward in his dream, and the floor tilting wildly to one side, tipping him towards the ground. And in that moment, it clicked. Yes, the floor had tilted down.

But the other half had tilted up. They were joined. One could not fall without the other rising.

Glim knew what he had to do. He just didn’t know how.

Watching his father’s movements intently, he pushed, pulled, and prodded. His father responded to Glim’s movements in ways that suddenly seemed predictable.

Push here. Sway here. Pull here. Turn there.

In a rush, Glim saw his moment arrive. He stiffened his left arm as if he were about to shove his father’s hip. He watched his opponent pivot slightly, in anticipation of the pressure.

Instead, Glim grabbed his father’s tunic with his right hand and yanked it sharply downward. Glim twisted his body at the same time and spun him around by pushing with his left hand at the same time.

The combination of Glim’s pushing, pulling, and twisting in one motion upset his father’s balance. He staggered, taking a huge step to steady himself.

Glim whooped and did a little dance.

“At least you’re a gracious winner,” his father said, laughing.


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