My last one happened so fast. We were scrambling, my professor and I. Chaos for me. For him, tea time. Then my alarm blares: I know that move. He’s gonna dive, head to the mats and, upside down in the most unnatural way a human should move, will elevate my legs. Somehow, he will end up on my back, around my limbs, interrupting my neck and I will tap. But in that moment, that time only, I notice it first. I move—push his leg just a little, so it can’t catch mine. We roll into each other and my prize comes in the form of a grunt. His. I did it! Pride hasn’t settled yet when I realize it. My legs wrapped around his neck and one arm. Deadly, if only I can tighten it up a little bit. So I take a deep breath and tell myself: all at once, release the leg, replace with the hand. It was quick, I promise. But in that little time while I replaced my hold, he simply sits up. As if he had time for a coffee, a few emails and then “hey, I think he left the door open” kind of escape. My time to grunt. Can’t believe I let this opportunity pass. Lessons I heard so many times, from so many different positions, bounce back from the past. “Never let go of a grip before you get a new one.” Now my golden opportunity is gone. And, as I think all that, I feel an arm wrapping around my neck.