For years, I have been trying to convince The Mrs. to train
with me. And for years, she has adamantly turned me down. There are a myriad of
reasons why. But on a couple of occasions she has indulged me, either at home or at an open
mat or drop-in class. She’ll put on the gi and grapple for an hour or so, tops.
But what I’ve noticed is that over the course of that hour, she will grow
increasingly frustrated. She’ll be frustrated that she doesn’t know what to do.
She’ll be frustrated when I explain what to do. She’ll be frustrated that she
can’t escape. She’ll be frustrated if she is on top and can’t figure out how to
capitalize. She’s frustrated when I pull back on strength or speed. She’s
frustrated when I use my techniques. Basically, all the things that teammates
and kids in our junior class love about me frustrate the hell out of her. In
her words, she hates sucking at something. And sadly, that’s a lot of jiu
jitsu. I tell her that everyone starts at zero. While there are a few out there
who are naturals, most of us aren’t accustomed to fighting from our backs. So
we all suck and if we keep at it, we suck less every time we step on those
mats. But none of this comforts her. Sucking does not exist in her dojo. And I
must respect that. You can’t force someone to love something – no matter how
much you do. They will only come to resent you for it and that defeats the
whole purpose. She’s a runner. She loves her trails. She loves her long distances. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to run any more than a mile without zombies chasing after me. So fair is fair.
For practitioners of the gentle art, we have seen it happen
so many times. New folks who come into the school who try out one class and
disappear after that. There are the military peeps who are straight-up trained
killers who don’t come back for a second class after being mounted by a rooster
weight and choked out. There are the returning martial artists, black belts in
tae kwon do or tang soo do, who struggle through the warm-ups and sit out the
sparring session before ghosting altogether. Heck, sometimes it’s fellow jiu
jitsu practitioners who come from other gyms that don’t understand why their
ass is being handed to them even though they have four stripes on their belt.
Why? I don’t know. But talking with a friend and fellow BJJ
practitioner about my wife’s frustrations with this art we love so much, she
confessed that she, too, felt similarly frustrated at the start. She pointed out that compared to most other
sports people practice, jiu jitsu does not grant the same type of reward or
sense of gratification that folks are accustomed to. For example, in running,
you chart your success in a variety of ways. That first day out, if you make it
from point A to point B and then back again, that’s success. If you do it the
next day and don’t pause to walk, it’s another success. Next time, it’s a
little further. Day after that, it’s a little faster. You see your growth in a
very tangible way. I imagine the same goes for crossfit – one day, you can only
do this amount of weight or this number of reps. The next day, you are able to
increase those numbers. In competitive team sports, you practice hard and game
day shows you whether it was enough or not. Either you did enough work to win
or the other team bested yours. You set a goal, you go for it, and at the end
of the day, you know whether or not you achieved it.
But in jiu jitsu, it’s not clear-cut like that. Some folks
are after that black belt from day one. Me? I just wanted to tie my belt
correctly and not gas out during warm-ups. My first lesson was to remember to
breathe. Next day, it’s about learning how to retain side control. Next month,
it’s about executing an arm bar without being reminded on how to do it. Next year,
it’s about hitting that perfect omoplata. Your goals shift over time. You spend a whole lot of time on the bottom
before you learn to get on top. And what makes it incredibly humbling is that
you might learn how to do it correctly and you might land it correctly on that
one partner, but in the same class, in another roll with another partner, you
are once again on the bottom and no matter how much you remember and how hard
you try, you stay on the bottom. And even worse, as you go up in rank, it will
happen again and again. One class, you’ll celebrate because you survived an
entire sparring session without tapping out once. In another class, you’ll
celebrate because you tapped out more than one training partner. But then the
next class, you’ll be submitted by a lower rank and wonder where the fuck your
magic powers went. And unlike other sports – not everything points to
competition. Yes, you might be a medal chaser and enter into every competition.
But jiu jitsu is a marathon. Each competition is less a be-all-end-all in
itself. Instead, they are assessments of where you are in a certain point in
time. Have you worked hard enough to
fend off an equally trained opponent? At
one competition, you’re taking home gold in your division and at the next one,
you’re eliminated in your first match. And forget about promotion day. The day
that first stripe gets put on that black tab of your white belt is a great day.
You’re part of the club now. Your coach and team rely on you to come back. But
then the next promotion, you see folks who came up with you who are getting two
or three stripes while you get a lonely one – or worse, they get a whole new
color belt while you get your third or fourth stripe.
Jiu jitsu is not easy. That’s what a lot of people leave out
when they say that BJJ is for everyone. It is
for everyone… everyone that can surrender to it. It’s a reflective lifestyle
that begs you to look at yourself and not blame the other guy or girl. It’s not
about what they did, but what you didn’t do. It’s not about how big or strong
they are, but about how lazy your technique is. You have to accept all that you
don’t know and still aim to know a little more each time you put that gi on.
There is no universal yardstick to measure progress. The former high school
wrestler is going to come in with more abilities than you might have as a two
stripe white belt and you’re just going to have to learn how to overcome that
advantage. The girl who has been training for four years is going to submit you
and you’re going to have to accept that. BJJ is a mind fuck that way. A total
mental, physical and emotional rollercoaster. Some of us walk away from that
because life is hard enough and who really needs to pay monthly gym fees to be
reminded of what they suck most at. But others – like us – gravitate towards
that challenge. Yes, that guy picked me up and slammed me like a rag doll – I’m
going to learn how to do that or defend against it. Yes, that girl choked me
out – I’m going to get better at defending my neck and keeping my chin tucked.
I’m almost four years into this game. I have yet to medal in
competition. I’m never going to be an ADCC champion. The chances of me becoming
a black belt by 50 is slim. But I am 20 pounds lighter than when I started. I
can run more than a mile and have muscles where I used to have fat. I can
defend myself against most people at my rank, and I can likely submit most of
the folks who have trained with us for a year or less. I am so much more alive
because I suck less than I did when I started. And while she might not join me
on the mats for longer than an occasional open mat, she gets to reap the benefits
of a healthier, happier and less chubby hubby.
Oss.
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