We’re Practicing Takedowns

After fifty burpies

a hundred push-ups

countless squats

my ponytail

is wet and stringy

by the time we

partner up

for my favorite drill.

Thoughts of

Brendan

leak away in

my pouring sweat.

I shoot fast

grab Sheahan,

who, after two years

as my workout partner,

is so over any idea

that I’m a fragile girl.

I take him down.

We stand up

do it again

over and over.

I’m in the zone

and he’s tired

but when I hear the stop whistle

I take him again

’cause I can.

He calls me a dick

then bumps my fist with his.

We share a tired smile.

At tournaments

there’s always

some buzz

in my weight class

about whether

a win by me

is legitimate.

The only way to make sure

is if my opponent goes for it—

lets go of the thought I’m a girl.

After all this time,

it’s an easy thing

for Sheahan (my friend?) to forget.

I just hope that’s not

what’s happened

with Brendan.