Reflections on a Journey of Many Years

The blogger's dilemma is that the busier life is, the more things you have to say, and the less time to say them.

I've been busy lately.

Last night, I threw a party at my house to celebrate getting my black belt back in May. When I throw one of my infrequent parties, I enjoy inviting people from very different aspects of my life and watching them interact; this party included people who have been at my martial arts school for a long time like me, a few old friends from outside martial arts, neighborhood friends, friends from church, and family. I got my wife's cousin to cater the event; in keeping with the martial arts theme, there was an Asian flavor to the food.

It was fun, and it was nice to celebrate once again all the blood, sweat and tears that went into getting the belt.

Lately I've been reflecting on my own journey in the martial arts.

I've been thinking about modern v traditional martial arts--I attend a school that 8 1/2 years ago, when I joined, was called a karate school, and now is mixed martial arts. A lot of the bloggers I follow practice traditional martial arts. I envy the cultural exploration they get to do.

But as my wife recently reminded me, my own journey in the martial arts has also been an extraordinary path. I've discovered things about myself: physical strength; joy of movement; mental discipline; an inner warrior I had no idea existed. On many occasions, including recovering from ACL surgery, I've had to face my fears to get to a new goal.

Re-entering martial arts in 2001 also was an effort to gain control over one sliver of my life at a time when life felt wildly, disturbingly out of control, as a person I love increasingly fell into the grip of mental illness.

On the evite.com invitation I sent out for my party, I put a photo of Mr. Miyagi, the instructor in The Karate Kid played by the late actor Pat Morita. Dave Berry once hilariously said that karate is a martial art where, after years and years of effort and discipline, and using only their hands and feet, people have made some of the worst movies in history. But I'm not embarrassed to say that it was The Karate Kid that got me to first go to a Tae Kwan Do school in Queens for six months. And if I hadn't done that, I wouldn't have returned to martial arts in 2001.

What I was searching for (beyond better health) was a Mr. Miyagi, a strict but patient instructor who would affirm my worth while teaching me new things.

Occasionally, like this morning, I glimpse that the real Mr. Miyagi is within.

Cake vs. Training

As I write this, I'm eating a birthday cake instead of attending a very interesting martial arts class at my school. On the whole, I'm disappointed. :-)

On Saturdays, my school now offers a special class where 1) brown belts get intensive training for the black belt test, and 2) black belts get advanced/refined/different training. Today, I would be learning to work with weapons--nunchuks in particular--something my school no longer teaches in the ordinary course of things. I was looking forward to taking the class.

Instead, I'm watching over the birthday party my daughter is throwing for one of her best friends; my wife is out attending to our son. I'm pleased that I could help out my daughter. She had a few teary moments before the party, and she's happy now. And family comes first.

But I do feel like I'm missing a rare opportunity. I have to remember it will come round again.

Life has gotten in the way of training and also of this blog in the past weeks. There was the mild food poisoning the night of sparring this week. Last week, I was in the Berkshires, planning to do some running at least--and I caught a cold on vacation. Work has spilled over so late some days I was unable to make class or, in one instance where I showed up nearly 10 minutes late, I was fairly distracted during training. One of the consequences of the recession and cutbacks is everyone at work is trying to do more things.

I did get to class on Tuesday and Friday nights this week, and I felt refreshed physically and mentally the next day.

I'm sure one of the reasons I felt so refreshed by my classes was that I hadn't had much training previously; funny how training and not training can go hand in hand.

Nothing More Tiring

I had two hours of class today. In the second hour, among many other things, I went three rounds boxing with my sensei. It's like trying to block lightning. He has full control of his punches, but you feel them.

My wife said I looked miserable when I got home. I told her I was very, very tired.

"There is nothing more tiring," I told my wife, "than getting hit."

Eyebrow raised, she said, "I have no idea why you enjoy this."

I said, "I'm not sure I would if every time were like this."

I did learn a lot, however. In grappling, I was reminded of the D'Arce choke, which I'd forgotten how to do even though I'd mentioned it before; I also learned a way of flipping an opponent who has me in side control by grapevining his leg.

And in the black belt class, we worked on two ways of setting up the uppercut; 1) Draw the opponent's right hand to the side of his head by throwing two open hand hooks, then go into position to throw a very hard hook--but throw a front-hand uppercut to the head, followed by a cross; or 2) slip the jab, take a stop towards the opponent, then throw the backhand uppercut followed by the front hook (then move away).

Finally, sensei told me I was dropping my hand BEFORE throwing my jab, which was allowing him to come over the top with his cross. And I need to keep my hands up even when a speedster like him is out of reach, because he can move in and hit my head so quickly.

Very tiring.

Reach

My first role model in standup sparring was a black belt named Terry from my school. I learned a lot of things from Terry, but one thing I shouldn't have emulated was how close he got to his opponents in sparring. Terry would get in close and use tight hook punches.

That suited his size and style, but not mine.

There's a boxer I sometimes now think of in sparring named Paul Williams (in the photo above he's punching Winky Wright). Williams has the reach of a heavyweight but has fought at weights as low as 147 pounds. What I've noticed about him--it's somewhat visible in this photo---is that when he is throwing a flurry of punches, including hooks or uppercuts, he's using his reach still. (Also notice how he's keeping his left hand in position, protecting his face, as he punches with his right!)

Punching at the outside of your range makes for more power. It prevents opponents with less reach from clinching and ending your advantage. And of course it makes it harder for the opponent to reach you if he has less reach.

Oh, and Happy Fourth of July!

Breath

My man Steve, a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu practitioner, has a post about breathing while sparring, and how important it is to make yourself breathe.

I recently had a couple of interesting experiences with breathing while sparring.

1. Gumba Frank, a fellow black belt and classmate, is always a challenge in standup sparring. Frank is not only tremendously strong, he also has amazing hand speed (even more amazing that he's around 52 years old) and he is a very skilled counterpuncher. He also, surprisingly for someone in an orthodox stance, relies almost exclusively on his left, front, hand. My best strategy against him is to use my reach and to circle to my left, his right--the opposite of what I would normally do against a right hander. I want to steer clear of his left hook.

I realized a few weeks ago while sparring with him that I felt so anxious (when he hits, it hurts) that my breathing was speeding up and becoming shallow, which was tiring me out. And getting tired is a problem because I do best with him when I constantly move. I had to consciously slow down my rate of breathing and deepen the individual breaths. It helped. I was surprised that I hadn't been aware of that pattern before.

2. Last Saturday, I was grappling and got another 50-something black belt, Warren, in an arm triangle. That's a type of choke where I'm using one of his arms against his neck to help finish him off. Warren is a bit of a street fighter, and he came up with a creative solution: He took his free hand, pinched my nose shut, and covered my mouth with his hand, cutting off MY breath. Nobody had ever done this to me before. Eventually, I had to loosen my grip on him to pry his hand from my mouth, but that allowed him to get free from the arm triangle. People did point out to him later that it was an illegal move, but I was laughing about it, I certainly didn't expect it!

Osu, Black Belt Mama

Congrats to Black Belt Mama, who now truly IS a black belt mama, having just gotten her belt after persisting through ACL surgery and recovery. She's an inspiration.

Happy Father's Day

I was going to run this AM but it's raining, and I don't want to hurt my knee slipping while sprinting.

So I had a leisurely morning. Slept until 8:30, which is really, really late for me. My 16-year-old daughter made a delicious breakfast of waffles with blueberries and egg-white omelets with chives. And my wife is holding her annual grill for the dads BBQ today.

I was able to sprint Saturday and Sunday last week without injury, and I feel my sprinting is helping my endurance and cutting my weight. This weekend I haven't sprinted, but I plan to on Tuesday, when I'm taking a day off to take care of some stressful personal business. Perhaps if the weather clears up today before it's too late I'll go to the track as well.

My right leg (the one with the original ACL) is a little sore today from grappling. I spent effectively two hours grappling yesterday. In the second hour I was paired up with Vinny, a teenaged black belt who's as tall as I am. I got him to tap out once from an arm triangle choke; he got me to tap out from a leg lock, hence the sore right leg.

We haven't been doing standup sparring for the past couple of weeks because we've been working on leg drills. Sensei doesn't think we move enough in standup (I know I don't).