Be Careful What You Wish For

I remember that rare sunny summer’s day in London, at my local park 4 years ago when a conversation with a man doing his Judo drills inspired me to give it a go. Instead I took up BJJ (Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu), the training studio was more conveniently located to my home than a Judo studio. I figured it would do since BJJ is derived from Judo. When I started my wish was to become a Samurai because I had read somewhere that the Samurai drank matcha before a battle. For over a decade, I have drank a cup of matcha first thing in the morning before I face the battle that is life. All I was missing was some martial arts skills!  And Jiu-Jitsu was one of the martial arts used by Samurai. I imagined that it was going to be this beautiful Zen experience of discipline, growth and strength, the world better watch out! How am I doing, after almost 4 years of training? Well, I have gotten even better at drinking matcha, so much so that there is a global shortage. As for the rest, let’s just say that I often think about the old saying of “be careful what you wish for…” 

For a start, I’ve gotten really sweaty! I’ve done all sorts of exercises, running, HIIT, Spinning, weights etc… None of them has made me sweat half as much as BJJ. By 15 minutes into the class, which is just after we are done with the warm up, I’m using the sleeves of my kimono to wipe droplets of sweat from my face to prevent them from landing on my training partner. If it is a no-gi class(where we wear a rash guard and shorts instead of the traditional Japanese martial arts uniform of cotton kimono and trousers), it’s even more sweaty irrespective of how high-tech moisture/sweat-wicking the fabrics are.  When we start sparring not only do you have to worry about your opponent slipping away from you, but also you slipping up on the splashes of sweat on the mat. After the class, our training clothes are so soaked in sweat that you have to rush home to put them in the washing machine. If you don’t, be prepared for the clothes to stink out your car or anywhere else you may put them while you wait to wash them. 

I used to get compliments on how lovely and shapely my fingers are. Now, every time I look at my fingers, all  I see are scrapes. They are mostly shallow because I usually wrap tape around them, and my toes too, before each class. One of my BJJ classmates once joked that I look like a mummy. I also see my right index finger’s slightly wonky top knuckle. The hands of black belt Jiujiteiros (what BJJ practitioners are called in Portuguese) are worse than builders’ hands. Builders can wear gloves to protect their hands, but Jiujiteiros can’t so their hands are callused. I’m hoping that someone will invent BJJ training gloves soon. Maybe they will also invent a shield for my limbs which are often covered in bruises. When I don’t have bruises, I have soreness from opponents trying to choke me and lock my limbs. And there is the Jumper’s knee, a.k.a a guy falling on top of my right knee in class while we were practicing a Judo takedown move. This was such a shock to my body that I had to take a couple of months off BJJ. The upside is that I ended up getting a personal trainer (PT) to speed up the recovery process (and to save me from the BORING rehabilitation exercises the physiotherapist prescribed). Tiago my PT, with his long beard, never seen without Buddhist beads around his neck, either barefooted or wearing Birkenstock rubber sandals with socks. Without fail he will welcome me with a bear hug. I’m always glad to see him and have plenty to tell him. He says I talk a lot to get more rest time in between sets. I laugh a lot during our sessions. So much that some of the other gym goers have commented to him that he isn’t pushing me enough otherwise I wouldn’t be having so much fun. On the contrary, his sessions are very challenging. He arrives at each session with a clipboard of my training plan (coordinated with my physiotherapist), he reads off the exercises to be done, and get through them we must! 

I’ve been asked, especially during the first couple of months after my knee injury when I struggled to walk, if I’m going to stop BJJ? One friend said I should stop it and take up a sport less strenuous on the body and more age appropriate. Incidentally, I’m the second oldest person at the studio. The oldest, also a blue belt like me, has a black belt in Judo and has been practicing martial arts since he was a kid.  To be honest nobody cares what age I am, it is all about mastering the techniques. You will get injured regardless of what age you are. A thirty-something year old Jiujiteiro told me he had had 9 knee surgeries from various sports over the years. His knees are fine. He said my knee will be fine too so long as I do the strengthening exercises mandated by my physiotherapist. Another guy, a brown belt who has some issues with his knee, said he just wears a knee brace, and he trains 6 days a week.  I intend to continue training BJJ.  Not because I love it. I don’t. The guys I train with are surprised when I tell them this. I’m not even sure if I like it, never mind love. Why not, they asked? I reply, “why would I love getting beaten up several times a week?” Once, a guy with a purple belt replied: “Look, we get beaten up by life all the time. At least with BJJ, you learn to breathe through it.” Learning is the key reason why I’m still training BJJ. 

I figured if I just stick to BJJ it would do for any amount of learning I need to do for the rest of my life. There is so much to learn, starting with the basic techniques and their variations and the steady stream of new inventions.  Every time I attend a class I’m reminded of how little I know. I can’t even say that I have mastered the basic techniques including learning to breathe and relax under pressure. Breathing is so basic and “bem simple” as our senior professor likes to say whenever he teaches us a technique, that it is both puzzling and humbling to see how hard it is to do under pressure. That’s another big benefit of BJJ, you are forced to be in situations that get you out of your comfort zone. I’m pushed to test out the techniques I’m learning with opponents with different shapes, sizes and styles, in various scenarios. The scenario I dread the most is called shark tank. This is when you stay in the middle of the mat and fight every single person in the room for 90 seconds back to back. If there are 10 people in class that day then that’s how many you will fight. Nevertheless, I dread going to class less than I used to. Not sure if it is because I’m used to it or I have gotten better? Or perhaps it is because my current studio is located across the street from the ocean?  I often go and have a swim after the class. The cold Atlantic water never fails to wash away some of my aches.

When I left my previous BJJ studio after two and half years, I told them that I’d continue training for another couple of years if the people at my next studio were half as lovely as they were. They are. One thing I haven’t quite figured out is how the best fighters are also the loveliest and most generous at every studio I’ve trained at. I attach myself to them because I know that they will take time to teach me. Even during sparring, they guide me on how to better defend myself from their force and even over power them.  

“Entra guerreira!” This is what our senior professor says to me every time I arrive at class and ask for permission to step on the training mat. Guerreira/o is a warrior in Portuguese. I used to think that it was an exaggerated term of endearment. But I’ve come to realize that it is apt as I have to fight myself to show up to train BJJ. As our senior professor likes to remind us, your biggest opponent is yourself and it is the first person you must learn to control. My wish now is no longer to be a Samurai. My wish now is to keep showing up week after week like the guerreira that I am.