For the past several months I have been attending a white belt beginner class in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.
I am not entirely sure why I started. I was bored at the time. I wanted to do something new. Needed to get my creaky joints in motion again.
I had been a competitive fencer in high school and college, but the closest fencing clubs are about 45 minutes away from me. Plus all of the equipment is expensive, plus, as I age, fencing is hard on the knees. Also, my brother is a fencer, and has recently picked it up again, and so long as I don’t re-engage with the sport, all my accomplishments and credentials still fall into the realm of lore and mythology rather than confronted by the realities of middle age. And, that way I can’t LOSE to him.
Anyway. Jiu Jitsu.
You need to know something, and frankly, this may shock you. I want you to be ready. Are you ready? Here it is: I am not an athletic person. I know. It’s wild. I don’t even watch sports, much less participate. My engagement with this particular martial art, particularly in the very beginning, only further-elucidated this fact. Allow me to explain.
I Lack Proprioperception
We would be in class. I would be asked to imitate the instructor’s motion/position, and I would have no goddamn clue where any parts of my own body were. Wait, move my elbow? Which elbow? MY elbow? That one’s mine? How did it get over there? Ouch, that hurts. It is a surreal experience to realize that I had not been fully inhabiting my own body for a while now. I had no clue where I was in space or time. I had somehow arranged my world so that thinking was all that I did, and had completely disengaged from corporeal reality.
I also have the flexibility of a crouton.
I Lack Any Instinct for Self-Preservation
So, fencing, as I mentioned, is my only tentative corollary to any of this stuff. And it turns out… fighting in a straight line in with a sword and rules developed by 18th century French aristocrats will not, in fact, help you all that much in a street fight. Also, fencers lead with their dominant foot, the sword in their dominant hand. Pretty much all other fighters do the opposite, to pack a punch with a wind-up from the dominant hand in the back. This means, whenever I was asked to close distance with someone who was trying to punch me, I led with the wrong foot and placed my face, effortlessly, willingly, lemming-like, into my opponent’s fist over and over and over again.
This was genuinely befuddling to my partners, my teachers, and especially to ME.
The instructors were patient and helpful. Over several months I was able to move through the dozens of techniques, haltingly at first, and then with some fluidity. It was nice. I felt more in control of myself. Also, for the first time in my life, I felt like I would not be entirely helpless if I ever needed to defend myself. It was empowering.
The Tests
The way this particular Brazilian Jiu Jitsu system is structured, a new student is required to go through iterations of the same class over several months, and then take a series of tests to move on to their next belt and the more advanced class. A bunch of techniques are called out and you have to execute them correctly along with your partner.
The Five Tests Are As Follows
- The Mount (being on top of the fight),
2. The Guard (being on the bottom of the fight),
3. Side Mount (ehm, being on the… eh, side of the fight?),
4. Take Downs (how to drop the fool who disrespected you to the ground),
5. A Fight Simulation.
These tests are not a joke. You really have to prepare for them. You are granted 10 points over the full five test series. Each infraction, be it an incorrectly applied technique, a loss of control, or failing to stand up properly, loses you points. Run out of points? You have to retake the test.
The ways in which I did things started to matter quite a bit. If, during class, I did a technique 20% properly the instructor would heap on lavish praise. Now, putting my thumb on the wrong side of a hold was admonished. There was a real sense of leveling up.
I was pretty nervous going into the tests, to be honest. I worried that despite all the work I’d done, I’d go completely blank when a technique was called out, but thanks to the work of the instructors, I was able to get through the first three with little to no problem. Tests four and five were yesterday. The final test, the fight simulation, was more nerve-wracking than the rest. My partner threw random scenarios at me and I had to react appropriately. Once we were in it, I did okay, mostly, but ran out of gas toward the end. Cardio definitely needs work. (Not athletic, remember).
I passed, though. (Without passing out!). That’s what matters.
The Graduation
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Last night, after completing the tests in the morning, I attended my last regular beginner class to get my new belt and be promoted. It’s kind of cool. There’s a bit of a ceremony to it. The instructor ties your new belt on you, saying some kind words about your progress in the sport. I read online that only about 10% of BJJ white belt students progress to the next level. It feels good to move up.
After my last white belt class I got to stay for the master class that I had graduated into. I got to reconnect with some folks who graduated some time back and I hadn’t seen in a while. We learned how to fend off someone who is attacking you with a baseball bat (!?!). Suddenly I was brand new again. All new techniques. Put your feet here, turn your hips this way. Nope, not like that. Ha. I was a complete beginner again.
Afterwards we sparred (called “rolling” in BJJ parlance) for thirty minutes. It was my first time free-sparring. I was completely out of my depth. Trying to remember techniques. Scrambling for control. Trying not to die. I was also exhausted from testing and the previous class I’d just finished. I was heaving to get oxygen into my lungs. It was fun though. And for the sake of my pride, I pause here to note that I tapped out three people and didn’t get tapped once. They were absolutely being nice to me because it was my first day in the big kid class, but it felt good nonetheless.
Until today, that is. Today does not feel good. Today feels like I’ve been hit by a train. Ha. Sore in every conceivable place. But in a good way.
Unathletic, as I said.
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