Kata: Best/Worst of Times

I try to do the kata flow drill every morning. Some days, it's as effortless as breathing. Other days, It.Just.Isn't. But I do it anyway - and most mornings, I enjoy it. Yesterday morning's kata flow ended on a high note - a "best of" time. Unfortunately, the day before was an absolute mess.

I admit that I don't always "see the opponent" when I'm doing the drill. The purpose of the flow drill is to NOT worry about cadence or tenacity and just do the form at one tempo without emphasis on the power/speed of any particular strike, kick or block. Trouble is that when it's time to present the kata in real time, I sometimes forget to put that cadence and tenacity back in there. Oops...

Lately, Tuesday nights have been dubbed "Thinking Nights" at my dojo. After we get our warmup sweat on, Sensei picks a kata or two for us to tear apart. Bunkai, strike/block placement and even little things like where your body needs to be in order to end where you started are discussed. There are always A-Ha! moments to be discovered. Next, we present a kata of our choice to the class - a formal presentation - just like we would before judges at a tournament.

Lately, I've tried hard to stay away from the katas we dissected when it's been my turn to present, because I know need a little time to practice and refine it lest the "other way" creep in. And lately, I've flubbed every single presentation. I'm talking forgetting opening moves, losing my balance, ending no where near where I began - the whole nine. I'm not sure if having the group critique after the presentation or if knowing that Sensei S and Sensei J are watching with the visual equivalent of a fine-tooth comb that's giving me performance anxiety, but clearly SOMETHING is. This week, I butchered Empi Ha, a kata I learned about three years ago as a second kyu. It was clearly a "worst of" time for me and my form.

Perhaps I'm taking the idea of emptying my cup - or emptying my mind, even - too literally. It's like the template that has all the instructions switches itself off right when I need it most. And no, I do not have this issue when I am competing. Still trying to figure out why the circuits get so log-jammed when I'm amongst friends but not when I'm doing the same thing in front of total strangers.

During my track and field days, I'd occasionally have the same issue. There were some days I couldn't get off the ground with anything resembling technique to save my life - especially if we jumped for height in the same way a competition progressed. My coach used to call it "Non-Performance Anxiety" - meaning that because I wasn't in uniform, wasn't jumping against a field of other competitors and didn't have the total adrenaline rush that always came on the day of a big competition, my mind knew it wasn't "real" and acted accordingly. To get over that, he'd sometimes have me practice in my uniform or go through my warm-up routine the same way I would on competition day. It helped. But there isn't really a karate equivalent for that - as I'm always in uniform (gi) and on any given day, either/both Sensei S and Sensei J could be my judges in competition.

I was talking it over with one of my training partners and I clearly recall saying that the walk from the wall where everyone sat to the center of the room to present the kata was like "going through hell." Her response? "Well, they say when you are going through hell, you should just keep going."

"'The best 'gains' are made when there is no flow. 'Ughs' help us refine and improve," another martial artist told me. "Keep on kata-ing."

Advice I plan on taking. I'm glad they offered :-)

Getting by with a little help from my friends...

Miles to Go...

Yesterday we packed up the vehicles and headed down to NYC for a free tournament. Yep, you read that correctly - a FREE tournament. Over 450 competitors (compared to the 300 or so that attended last year), so training partner Ed and I thought it would be an inexpensive way for our students to get some kata presentation and kumite experience in.

Going in, we told them all that although trophies and accolades are nice, they weren't the goal of competing. It takes a lot of courage to step into the ring - as anyone who's ever done it before can tell you - so as long as they did their absolute best and kept their chi and fighting spirits high, all would be good. They did that and more.

With so many rings, it was hard to keep track of everyone, but they competed well. They stepped in, did their thing and learned a lot in the process, which is a very good thing. Two of our girls - both 14-yr-old 7th kyus - took home first and third places in kumite (which was good as they didn't have to spar each other) and a second place in kata. Both of them got shiners from the same competitor, but they didn't grumble or complain when the young lady's hit was not given a warning as it should have. Way to fight like girls, ladies!

Still, with all those competitors, there were only two of us competing in kata in the "old lady" division (female black belts 35 and over) - myself and training partner, Peg. An amazing karateka, she, like me, started karate at an age when most are toning down their physical pursuits. Extremely talented, she trains hard - and it shows in everything she does on the mat. I admire her a great deal, so, it was kinda tough to get my head set to compete against her. But I followed her Empi Ha with Senchin and, much to my surprise, we tied - although her scores were more consistent than mine (the one judge that gave me a 7 was the one that saw me hit myself in the lip on the opening move because he was the one I was facing; the other 2 gave me 9s). Once the low and high scores were dropped, I won by a mere half point. I felt like a fraud.

Honestly, Peg's kata was better than mine yesterday. I was nervous and, because I'd spent most of the day sitting down judging the underbelts, I hadn't warmed up nearly as well as I wanted to/usually do, so my footwork felt a teeny bit off. I don't feel I was the better competitor that day and was very embarrassed by the four-foot trophy they presented me with. I swear, I really wanted to just disappear under the floor, I really did.

But because I won, I was allowed to compete in the kata grand championship against the winners in the other three black belt divisions. I knew I had the least experience going in and stood almost no chance of winning, but I did it anyway. And, to challenge myself even more, I did a kata I'd never done in competition before: Hangetsu, which I usually reserve as a back-up in the event of a tie. I felt too big and too conspicuous with my 6'2" self in that ring, the lone Amazon in the black gi. It didn't go terribly, but it wasn't my best presentation, either. Truthfully, I felt a little embarrassed when it was all over because it wasn't as good as the others.

But you know what? That's sooo not the point of karate for me. I train to gain knowledge and improve over MY best, not everyone else's. Sure some days are better than others, but that's life sometimes. It just reminds me that there are more than a few miles to go yet on this path - and as many bumps and hurdles to overcome in the process. But it's the journey, not the destination that is important, and I've got nothing but time.

So why compete in the first place? Truthfully, I really only wanted to spar - because it is as close as I ever hope to come to a real, live "put up your dukes" combat situation. Kata competition for me is about learning to recognize and practice the art of my martial art. The grace is not something that is innate to me, so I take competition as an opportunity to push my learning envelope a little. Plus it's fun and I enjoy it.

And getting a good smack down every now and again keeps the ego in check, I think - and I am one very humble creature this morning, that's for sure.

Too Much Information

OK - pet peeve time. For me, it's sloppy gis during training. I'm not talking about the gi jacket that gets disheveled after you're tossed across the floor like a rag doll, but untucked shirts that dangle below gi tops and belts that are gapped or twisted in the back way before the warmup even begins bother me to no end. But you know what gets me the most? Undergarments that peek out between the splits in traditional-tie bottoms. Ack!!

It seems a shame to step on the mat with trimmed nails and a freshly washed gi only to have your underwear announce to the world that they are ready to work well before you've even produced a bead of sweat. Sorry, but that is totally gross. Cover that up already!

Seriously, if someone else can see the waist band of your BVDs or knows what color thong you have on, that's definitely TMI. There's a reason it's called UNDERwear.

Granted, some folks might not know their...ummm...business is "in the streets" - so if you have a training partner who's flashing a little more than their devistating technique in class and you don't wish to embarrass him or her, point them a pair of shorts, a needle and thread or any MA website that sells elastic-waist or slit-less drawstring gi pants. Friends don't let friends train with their undies showing, IMHO.

OK - rant over. Thanks for indulging me...

"E Squad" Adventures

There are six women in my dojo. Two are busy with school and aren't actively training right now, so it isn't often that we out-number the men on a given evening. Last Thursday night's class - when only the four females gi'd up to train - was a rare exception.

Sensei S, the only male in the building, started us off by moving the class into the mat room to work on break falls and rolls. You'd think with three shodans and an ikkyu, we'd have been talking about things like the importance of protecting the head or where to look during the roll. Instead, we questioned whether our female hips were actually going to go where we wanted them to as effortlessly as Sensei's did when he demonstrated what we'd be working on. It's obvious that we women are built differently than the men we train with, but with only "us girls" in the room (Sensei was out-estrogened, hee-hee), we could discuss with each other on the sidelines what we usually say to ourselves in the privacy of our own heads. And on occasion, those conversations were overheard by whomever was on the mat working the technique with Sensei, making her dissolve into a giggling puddle. Not that our all estrogen class was any less structured or formal than normal, but every now and again, one of us would relax too much while being guided into a throw/roll or launch ourselves too high to get some assisting momentum behind us and end up plopping loudly onto the mat. And no explanation was necessary because the rest of us understood what that momentary "This is gonna be difficult because my butt is just too big" pause was about.

This post is not a plug for an all-girl training environment - although I've often wondered what receiving instruction from and learning with nothing but women would be like. I rather like training with the "Y" chromosome set because they push me when sparring and challenge me to think on my feet. But sometimes, it's OK to hang out with the girls, though. There's something unique about that unspoken understanding when your training partner has a mental block and can't even attempt a technique because of a simple fear of how or where she'll land. No one assumes she's weak or that her reaction is indicative of how all women will react in a similar situation. We know that it is her "something" without having to discuss it or explain it at all - because everybody's got theirs. It is what it is.

In the aikido class I started training in about a month ago, I've been present a few times when Sensei M. has led the class. A fourth dan with a booming voice and a curly ponytail that whips around when she's giving instruction or being tossed around during the training sessions, I met her when I surprised her in the changing room before my first class. Use to being the only woman in the place, knocking before entering the ladies area wasn't something she was accustomed to doing, she said. We both got quite a kick out of that.

In karate, I occasionally train with another Sensei M. Busy competing internationally and teaching Krav Maga as well as USA Goju, she thoroughly kicks our butts cardio-vascularly during class. She's an amazing practitioner and instructor who is always willing to pass along what she's learned to others. But still I remember a fourth dan spar her once like she stole his wallet when she was only a nidan - all because she swept him to the ground while sparring the week before. He hit her so hard that he knocked out her contact lens, which I remember crawling around on the floor trying to find with her after class. Ugly, ego-driven and unnecessary, it was what it was - and I won't train anywhere near that yondan today as a result. I can't see that happening with other women, though. Not that it couldn't, just probably wouldn't.

Three cheers for the E Squad :-)

On the Road Again: Harlem Goju Association Seminar

Yep - we hit the road again a few weeks ago, loading up the van and heading to the Harlem Goju Association Seminar. A requirement for all Harlem Goju karateka, Grand Master Sam McGee invited training partner Ed and I along with our students to join in as well - and we graciously accepted. Our new promotees did workshops on controlled falls, kata and bo. They also got to watch some amazing practitioners present open-hand and bo kata. It's good to get out of your own dojo every now and again for something other than a tournament, I think. Judging by the smiles, I can assume our students shared that sentiment.

Uphill Climb

Last week, I went to a workshop on engaging area youth. It was sponsored by a local agency that hosts after-school programs all over the school district. The facilitator was awesome - excellent ideas, very engaging and energetic - but sadly, the group he was there to engage - youth workers and teachers who work the after-school homework and activity programs - was none of that. Some of the folks there boasted of many years of actual classroom teaching experience, but used the same breath to detail how horrible this kid or that kid was in their program. Too many of the attendees sat with their arms folded across their chests and "I've tried that and it didn't work!" scowls across their brows. Their lethargy was hard to watch.

My group's discussion about activities that could help re-engage kids who have fallen between the cracks deteriorated into a chat about where to buy the cheapest car tires in the area while three of our group members began their own conversation about who knows what. And, yes, I did try to corral the group back to focus on the task at hand, but the side conversation and tire talk drowned me out.

What does this have to do with karate, you ask? The lessons gleaned from training in the martial arts go a long way in answering that question. For example:

1. Discipline is the absolute cornerstone of learning anything new - and it all begins with self-discipline. It doesn't have to be whip-cracking, ruler-smacking hard, but without it, it's pretty difficult to go forward. Master yourself and another master is hard to find.

2. Nothing worthwhile comes easy - and little sweat ain't never killed anybody.

3. The hardest part of any class is usually getting there. Once you're there, you might as well apply the best effort you can so your trip wasn't for nothing.

Of course teaching is a tough job. When the total number of hours spent preparing lessons and grading papers, tests and projects is factored in, teachers in most public school systems don't get paid nearly enough. And I get that it must be rough to not immediately see the fruits of such hard labor blossom and ripen, I really do. That the host district has a high economically disenfranchised, single-parent household population often (but not always) makes miniscule parental involvement the norm, which has to be frustrating as all get out. It sucks. But it is what it is.

Most of the folks I give instruction to in the dojo are children, still the above wasn't really written for them or the students in the after-school programs - but for the people who teach them. If you set high expectations for those who train with and under you, they will have high expectations of themselves. Whether teaching a static kick or a spinning one, how to balance a chemical equation or write an essay outline, if someone thinks they can do it or if they think that they can't, they're probably right. Giving instruction is about getting those we instruct to think they can.

So don't give up just yet. Keep trying - because you only fail when you stop.

Tying It All Together

I'm a writer, editor and journalism instructor, so I make a living via the written word - whether I'm stringing a few of them together for an article, cutting some of them out of someone else's article or showing others how to put them together more effectively in the classroom. Words inspire me.

I started a new blog a few weeks ago - mainly as a place to put some of the sayings I stumble across every now and again. I try to post a quote every day in hopes that it will inspire others, too.

This was yesterday's entry from The Talmud: "Who is wise? One who learns from all." Turns out it was absolutely perfect for yesterday, because it was the day my training partner, Ed, and I oversaw our first grading at the Salvation Army (where we've been hosting free karate classes since May). Here are some of our students preparing to present:



A good day was had by all 18 of the kyus that graded. My senseis, several of my training partners and a few other senseis we've trained with over the years were all on hand to help us empty the cups of the graders and keep things moving along smoothly.

Once all the certificates, new belts and stripes were handed out, Sensei D. told our students that they all look like they are solidly on their way down their own paths - provided they keep working hard. "You are a direct reflection of your instructors," he added. "You made them look very good today." Always one to give credit where credit is due, Ed immediately pointed to the black belts and said something that brought it all home: "You also made THEM look good, because we learned from them. We give to you what they've given and continue to give us."

And he's right. Guess that makes him humble and wise :-).