Standing Eight Count

Every time I travel I think of this anecdote involving a friend of mine - it is one of my most enduring of my Recurrent Loops.  I'll be interested in hearing the recollection of the parties involved someday to see if it matches in any way with mine, or if it indeed even happened.  This may be from a dream or fugue state or an LSD flashback.

My buddy somewhere in Mexico looking at a giant Aztec or Mayan pyramid ruin.  I assume other family members were present.  

Dude: "I wonder how fast I can get to the top."

So I arrive in Bangkok and I think - mentally, spiritually, physically, emotionally: "I'm going to see everything, understand everything, move relentlessly but take time to relax and just be, go seamlessly from one spectacular to another."

I was explaining to SuperK in the pool yesterday the differences between a KO, a TKO, and a standing eight count.

Day One: I was on the mat twice, quickly.  Smelling salts between rounds and I survived.

Day Two: A couple of standing eight counts, the second one I disputed.  Still reeling, backpedaling, trying not to get killed.

Day Three:  Got my feet under me, cuts taped up, water splashed in my face, but I'm in a crouch, paws up, not even attempting to go offensive. Lots of cinches, crowd booing, I bounce cockily to my corner when the bell rings, grateful to be upright but acting like I took care of business.

Day Four: On the horizon.