Get to the Karate Already!

Since I'm still on post-nasal surgery restrictions that limit my physical activity, I've only visited my teaching dojo a few times to say hello to my students/training partners and "walk the mat" (meaning not participating, just giving instruction and correction during the class when I am in gi or sitting and observing silently when I'm in my civvies) in the last few weeks. I popped into the adult class one night last week and was a little disturbed by what I saw.

Class begins at 6:30PM. Our senpai - a barely 20-yr-old who's been a shodan for about five months or so - was leading the warmup. Spirited and agile, he was taking our 30 and 40+ "executives" through burpees and minute-long running-in-place high-knee drills. Not in gi (because I actually had to return to work), I said hello to a few folks watching and chatted with training partner Ed for a while before looking at my watch. At 7PM when I was about to head back out the door, they were still jumping around and hadn't even begun stretching yet. The class ends at 8PM.

None of the adult students are sedentary - even if they can only get to the dojo once a week. Ancillary training - from boxing to weight-lifting and running - is done by most all off them on their off-dojo days (heck, one student, a 38-hr-old green belt, does CrossFit in the morning on karate nights). In other words, there were no couch potatoes who only sweat 90 minutes a week on the mat. And although a good "Let's get those muscles nice and warm/loose before we start hitting and kicking things" warmup is a very good thing, too much of a good thing just ain't good for you, IMHO. Personally, when I only have 90 minutes to get some karate training in, I want to spend as much of that time actually doing karate as possible - and I've gotten pretty annoyed in class when instructors didn't see it the same way, which made for less than pleasurable karate experiences.

When I was a kyu, my then sensei used to lengthen the class warmup as we got closer to grading - so much so that it wasn't unusual to have a 40-minute jog/jumping jack/push-up marathon the week before testing. His theory was that the "cup-emptying" workout we were going to be put through at the grading should feel a bit familiar. I understood where he was coming from, but didn't agree - mainly because I was getting my cardio and weights in during the rest of the week and kinda figured my dojo sisters and brothers were doing something similar as well. Plus my other discipline (track and field) had engrained in me that there are strong, strong benefits to tapering your training before upcoming big, arduous contests. My sensei's plan was totally contradictory to that, it seemed.

The next sensei I trained under had spurts where he would try to work us into puddles of sweat before we actually began the karate portion of class. There were quite a few classes where we warmed up with lots and lots of burpees and squat thrusts followed by minute-long planks and "scoop" pushups that made me wonder if I'd somehow stumbled into the aerobic kick-boxing class. Again, I got what he was trying to get us to do, but I just wanted to get to the karate already.

I've also been to classes where students were expected to warmup on their own before class actually started. That meant you needed to get there early enough to do whatever it is you needed to do so you were ready for whatever kata, makawari or other drills Sensei dished out. It developed out of necessity (the sensei taught a boxing class before karate and one started and the other ended at the same time, which made it necessary to be efficient with the little time we did have to do martial stuff), but it made sense to me, as the 19-yr-old college students who trained on one side of me had different physical needs than the 40 and 50-hr-old executives who trained on the other side. Not that there weren't smattering of conditioning exercises/drills during class (like, say, 20 pushups after a kata or 20 round house kicks between bunkai drills), but the business of the day was about karate, not preparing to do karate.

When I teach, of course there is a bit of time reserved for getting the blood flowing and stretching before we start drills or whatever else is on the agenda, but it is not the entire focus of the class and it never usually takes more than 15 minutes or so. Yes, it's necessary to warmup, but I just don't get the "go hard or go home" calisthenics that seem designed to show little more than the fitness level of the person leading the class.

Get to the karate already, please...

Itching to Train!

11 days ago, I had surgery to remove some nasal polyps and to fix my crooked septum. I hemmed and hawed an awful lot before even deciding to do it - mostly because the polyps, I was told, could grow back - but the polyps were pressing against some olfactory nerves and I wasn't able to smell at all. Decided it might be prudent to at least give removing them a shot after almost burning my house down (couldn't smell something left in the oven that ignited when I turned on the oven to prep for dinner), in hopes of being able to one day smell the roses again if nothing else.

What I learned from it all was this: "same-day surgery" and "simple" are not necessarily the same thing. The polyps were pretty dense and the hour-long surgery ended up taking a whole lot longer. My head was foggy for a good three days and I was a bit dizzy for three more after that. And, because the sinus cavity was not stitched or cauterized to control bleeding, restrictions - including not bending over to tie shoes, not lifting anything heavier than a few pounds and even on sneezing (open-mouth sneezes were strongly suggested) - abounded. Worst of all, I found out AFTER surgery that I could be away from the gym and dojo for up to six weeks. Six! Freaking! Weeks!

Today, I had my second follow-up and he said the sinuses look really good. Still some swelling, but better than last week. So much better that I don't have to see him for two weeks and I can return to light cardio (short elliptical, slow kata) today :-). No lifting weights, pushups or running yet, but my doc said that if the healing keeps going as it is, I'll may be allowed back on the mat after the next appointment.

My ortho said the time off will help my knee as well (slight medial meniscus tear that can't be treated surgically - did I mention that before?), so I supposed the forced respite is a good thing for all my achy body parts. Sill, time away is time away.

The last time I was required to sit on the sidelines for so long was after my BC reconstruction. Six weeks really isn't that long, but it seems like an eternity when you can only watch instructional karate videos and review kata in your head. But I survived back then and I'm pretty sure I will now.

I do miss my students, though :-( Planning on doing a "drive by" (in gi but only walking the mat) this week to let them know I'm thinking about them :-). I gotta move around at least a little least I forget the stuff I'm supposed to remember.

Plus my backside hurts from all the sitting down!

Shisochin

It's a kata I'm working to understand. And it's BEAUTIFUL! But don't just take my word for it - see for yourself:

According to an excerpt from fellow blogger Dan Djurdjevic's The Academy for Traditional Fighting Arts page:

The standard kanji of Shisochin mean “four directional battle.”  This is said to be an Okinawan attempt to pronounce the Hokkien/Amoy reading of the characters (pronounced "xi xiang zhan" in Mandarin).  Shi/si means "4", so/xiang means "direction" and chin/zhan means "battle."

That makes sense to me. It is very symmetrical form, as you can see that moves pretty evenly in all directions. Not sure if you can tell, but so much of the action in this form is precipitated and finished with/by the hips. Trust me when I tell you that bones are being broken on that imaginary adversary.

My sensei is currently in Okinawa training with Taira Sensei (whom you just watched in the video above). I just thought that was pretty cool and wanted to share :-)

The Kareem Syndrome: Knowing When to Say When

Everyone who has ever competed has lost on occasion. But they'd all probably be lying if they said losing was fun.

I don't always win the three or four times a year I actually compete on the mat. I didn't always in track and field throughout high school and college and I didn't in grade-school baseball or math team, either. I also didn't in all the card and board games played with my family when I was a kid (my dad hardly ever "let" me win), so I should be used to it by now. But, honestly, on the mat when I spar, I've done pretty well. And on the occasions where I've gotten beaten - especially when I've gotten beaten badly - I learned so much about how to think on my feet, how to better use my 41" inseam to my advantage, etc. etc. Because I always learn more from the loses than the wins, I can't really say I have a problem losing.

But I can say that how badly I feel about the loss and how much I learn from it depend on how I lose. As horrible as I feel about being out-classed/out-gunned (as in not-really-in-the-same-league-as-my opponents), I feel even worse when I don't do the best I can on that particular day or when I let my head get in the way, y'know? For me, it usually plays out a little something like this: work for months on particulars ---> map out a specific game plan ----> have said game plan fly out of the window as soon as I bow in ----> get my hiney handed to me ----> spend the next week or so berating myself/wondering why I even compete at all. It's exhausting.

That was my reality after a tourney last month. My kata went horribly wrong and I actually forgot that I had legs when it was time to spar (because I never used them). It. Was. Awful. So much so that whenever a sliver of memory from a piece of my last fight or the kata presentation ran through the grey matter, I let out a grunt and a face/palm (if there were people around) or a little scream (if I was alone or at home). Sometimes it was while on my computer at work, which made my office mates poke their head into my space to see if I was OK. Sometimes it was while I was brushing my teeth or making dinner which made my housemates wonder if I was still sane. Each time I flashed back, it felt like I was right back in the thick of it, stinking up the joint. That was my reality for a solid two weeks. And it sucked. A whole, whole lot.

I lost, and that's fine, but the real me - at her best without the deer in the headlights fear - wishes competitor me would have at least competed better. And I'm most upset that I didn't. (I just screamed again, dang it!)

The benefit of hindsight is knowing now what you should have known then, making it easier to see how you coulda/woulda/shoulda done this, that or the other differently. The craptacular part about it is knowing that you can't change the outcome one freakin' iota.

Yes, every trite but inspirational phrase you could ever think would apply in this case has already been thought about and meditated on: It didn't kill me, so I'll be stronger, I hope. It was a pretty dark place emotionally, so the dawn can't be far behind. I didn't succeed, so I will be trying again at some point, I know. But it still stings and I still feel crappy about it.

But in my introspective month since the tourney, a tiny nugget of truth has been trying to poke through: my competition confidence is really, really shaky, often getting derailed with even the slightest breeze.  It sucks - mostly because I haven't quite figured out how to change that reality. I get so nervous about how I'll possibly be perceived - a relatively new-to-karate, former track person who, at 46, probably should not be out there trying to bounce around on a tricky knee against people who are young enough to be my offspring. It sounds lame as all get out, but there it is. I'm afraid I'll end up looking like Kareem before he retired.

The legendary Sky-Hook

OK, so Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was an NBA phenom long before he dueled Bruce Lee in "The Game of Death." A 7'2" mass of wiry arms and legs, he was best known for his incredible offensive style of play complete with his amazing sky hook. He is the all-time leading NBA scorer who also has six championships and six regular-season MVP awards under his belt - but I can't get the image of his 1989 season out of my mind - because in the last few months of his 20-yr professional career, Kareem looked like time had finally caught up with him. His offense was much weaker than usual and his beloved sky hook just wouldn't fall most times. I remember watching a Lakers game mid-season and thinking "He probably should have retired last year." It was kinda hard to watch and very sad in a way.

Although I might never be as great in the ring as Kareem was on the court, I still don't want to look like my best days are behind me. My biggest confidence shaker and derailer is that I possibly could each time I step into the blue lines that are the ring. It sounds totally stupid, I'm sure, but it's true. But, like I said, what to do about that is the $64,000 question.

Wow. Guess I've licked those wounds to a nice shinny glow, huh? Onward...

Misty, Water-Colored Memories

I remember the first woman I saw in the dojo. She was a green belt, I think - and I was still in sweats and a T-shirt (hadn't even gotten my gi yet). Back then, I was so busy trying to figure out these hand, foot and body movements that I didn't realize I was one of only two adult females in a class of 30 people.

I also remember the first female black belt I ever saw. She was fierce in the dojo but really nice and humble out of it - and I still train with her to this day. Shortly after that, I met another female black belt - a sixth-dan who no longer really trained (although stories about how she had to sneak into the YMCA in a baseball cap to train with the men back in the 70s and how she once knocked out a guy she was sparring with a ball-of-the-foot roundhouse kick to his temple were legendary). So yeah, three women in the span of about four years.

I also remember every time I was made to feel like less than in the dojo because of my sex including:

• How everyone thought it was a cute that the female first black belt I ever met knocked some hardened Marine on his butt his first night on the mat (when she was a teen) after he volunteered to be her uke for a self-defense technique. He was apparently so embarrassed that got up, walked out the door and never came back. 
• Crawling on the floor after class looking for that same black belt's contact lens after some thug of an instructor sent it flying during sparring because she'd taken him to the ground during another training session a few days earlier. His payback was because he was also embarrassed about  being "shown up" by a woman whom he out-ranked.
•  Being shown techniques by an instructor that would, as he put it, keep women from damaging their "freshly manicured" fingernails. 
• Training as a brown belt and having every guy in the room wanting to turn up the dial when it was time to spar because no one wanted to get beaten by a "girl." 
• Hearing a not-so-energetically done technique being described not as weak or inefficient, but as "girly" to the very young woman who had just done it.
•  Witnessing a student with amazing potential be told that she was going to be a great female martial artist someday. 

Frankly, I'm tired of letting it go, ignoring it or assuming the person who said it didn't really mean it "that way." What other way is any of that supposed to be taken, I wonder? - because whether meant as an insult, said as a joke or uttered without ill intent doesn't matter; the result is still the same.

When I meet other female karateka at tournaments or seminars, I feel like we are kindred souls somehow - and they seem to feel the same. We almost always start out by asking and answering the same questions to/from each other: What do you study? How long have you been studying it? How old were you when you started? Is it easy to fit training into your busy life? To me they are students of their respective arts. It still shocks me to realize that in some places, we are thought of as FEMALE students, as if the distinction is a very necessary one. I don't quite get that, truthfully.

We've managed to show that phrases like "Stop acting like a retard!" or "That is so gay!" are so ridiculously insensitive. We've also managed to weed them out of our everyday vernacular as well. Here's hoping we can do the same for anything that ends with "...like a girl!"

10 Rules for Large Tournament Competition

For weeks I'd been prepared for a rather large tournament - and between the anticipation of stepping into the sparring ring again after a six-month absence from competing, working out some kinks in a kata I'd never presented before and figuring out whether to stay overnight between competition days or drive the two hours home, those weeks before were kind of a blur. But before the memory of the one emotional high (getting into my sparring gear not once but THREE times!) and that awfully ugly low (missing the women's kata grand championships because I could not hear the announcer call it even though I was standing smack dab in front of the speaker. I know, I know...) totally fades into the outer recesses of the gray matter, I thought it prudent to jot a few things down so I won't forget them when the next rather large tournament comes around.

Without further ado, I present "Large Tournament Rules for a Successful Competition"

1. Pick a spot to stash your gear so you can go elsewhere to warmup (or just move around a bit) without having to tote all your stuff along. Consider this your home base for the day.
2. Locate the bathrooms early and try to keep home base as close to one as possible. It is inevitable that your efforts to stay hydrated will conclude with a mad dash to the restroom just as your event is announced. If you start near one, it will be easier to get to it, finish quickly and get where you need to be without working yourself into a panic.
3. Find out if the event is run on a timetable without assigned rings or on a flat "Women's 40 -49-yr-old kata in Ring 3 sometime after all the other events assigned in Ring 3 are done" schedule. It matters - especially when it comes to deciding when to warmup and when to eat.
4. Bring food - especially if you are an adult black belt - because you will not compete until near the end of the entire tourney. The bagel and OJ you had for breakfast will be long gone by the time you need to warm-up for your competition.
5. Know how to find the announcer in case the noise from the event makes him/her start sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher, because you will need to know if and when your event has been called.
6. Do not stand up/walk around for the entire day as it drains your energy and can really zap your legs (which you won't realize until you are standing on said zapped legs trying to present your kata). Find a chair or a quiet spot near your home base and use it.
7. As...umm...different as the glitter bos and kamas may look in musical and extreme form competitions, do try to keep your mouth closed while you are watching. You can learn something from the precision of their footwork and timing.
8. People can and do warm up with their 6' bos almost anywhere - so be careful when you get near what looks to be a non-live ring so you don't get whacked in the shins or poked in the gut.
9. Keep your phone or paper and a pen handy. You will run into at least a handful of folks your age who are out there doing what you do. Trust and believe you will strike up or get pulled into a conversation with at least one of them and you might even want to exchange cell numbers or look each other up on FaceBook. You might also forget their names as soon as you pack you gear bag into your car, so writing it down helps.
10. Have fun. Easier said than done - especially when the butterflies start to flutter or the kumite gets a little heated, but worth it in the end. Think about it: if it isn't fun, what's the point?

These rules can apply to smaller tourney competition as well, I suppose. They all become important at different times during the course of the competition day, but the last one is my favorite. Feel free to add some if you'd like :-)

The White Gi Blues

After wearing black gis for eight years for my USA Goju training, I've been wearing a white gi for Goju-ryu for the last five months or so. Where I liked training in a lighter-weight black gi (about 8.5 ounces), the light-weight white ones kinda suck, so the training gi I use now is about 12 ounces.  The one I compete in is even heavier - about 16 ounces - because I like the crisp, kinda stiff look and feel. That is until it comes out of the wash.

What is it about heavyweight white gis that make them ball up like a crumpled sheet of paper after washing? I've tried line drying, drying them totally flat and even tossing them into the regular dryer for a few minutes - only to have very wrinkled mess on my hands when they finally do dry, rendering them totally unwearable until ironing. My 16 oz competition black gi almost never needed ironing, so why do my white ones?

My household iron is barely a pound when it is filled to capacity with water. It is no match for my white gis, which seem to just laugh at my lame efforts. After sweating and straining with my trusty iron for 30 minutes or so, my gi still looks like I slept in it for a few hours (instead of all night, like it did before I ironed). Not cute at all.

A few weeks ago, I finally broke down and took it to my local dry cleaner just to have it pressed. The owner literally sighed when she felt the material. "Wow," she said. "So heavy!" I'm not kidding.

It looked great when she was done, but because it is usually sweat-soaked and stained (because some bit of dirt always, always, ALWAYS finds me when I have it on) after training, I cannot go more than one class without needing to have it washed, which necessitates a trip back to the cleaners, which is getting expensive. I swear, keeping my white gi cleaned and pressed is going to send me straight to the poor house.

Anyone have any ideas for keeping it at least a bit more wrinkle free after washing?