Facing Up

When a fight goes to the ground and your opponent is on top of you, you should never, never, never end up on your stomach. Being stuck in that position causes all kinds of problems. It exposes the back of your head and your neck, it keeps you from being able to see or predict your opponent's actions and, worst of all, it makes it impossible for you to defend yourself or react in any way to what's going on.

Instead of rolling onto your stomach, you should turn your body so that you're either on your back or on your side. You should face your opponent dead on. Not only can you see him now, but you can also protect yourself and find ways to turn the situation around. In general, on your back you have more control and more options.

Of course, rolling onto your stomach might be easier and might even seem like an instinctual thing to do...but it doesn't help you. It only leaves you exposed and vulnerable to attack.

I think it's important to face up to the things that take us to the ground in life, as well. It's a scary thing having to face an opponent that has the obvious advantage of being on top. Acknowledging that there's someone on top of you means that you have to fight; that you have to trap a foot and an arm and exert the energy it takes to turn the situation around. Sometimes that's hard to do because we don't feel like we have the energy...or maybe we're just afraid of the guy on top and we don't want to have to look and acknowledge that he's there.

But the alternative is to leave ourselves exposed and in a position where we can get hurt. And that's not really an option. It takes courage, I've found, to choose to look at your attacker just like it takes courage to face up to a problem that is holding you down. But we all have that kind of courage inside of us. It's hard to harness sometimes, but if there's one thing that I've learned from training it's that we often have to do hard things--things that are uncomfortable, painful, and even downright scary.

That's martial arts...and the only way to improve is to practice those hard, uncomfortable, painful, scary things. In the long run, we're training to be better people through and through, and that journey makes doing hard things worth it.

In life, we're training to be better people, too, hopefully. It's hard to have the courage and wisdom to stare your problems in the face and tackle them head-on, but it's better to have some control while lying on your back and facing your attacker than to have no control while blind and exposed. We want to always have options. Facing up to your problems gives you more options than denying them or running from them ever will.

Headgear

Yesterday, Sensei said to me,
"Okay Becky. I realized that after Zak knocked you out, we should probably start sparring with headgear." Then he proceeded to give me my new headgear. I was so excited! I finally had the ENTIRE sparring gear set! Gloves, shins, mouth, head! I couldn't wait to put it on.

When I did get it on, it took me about ten minutes to realize that I felt very lightheaded and shaky. It was a tight fit. Really tight. I discovered that I felt a bit claustrophobic in there. I couldn't use my peripheral vision to judge how close to the ground I was (I have some trouble with balance because of ear infections when I was a kid) and it made me dizzy and hot. Sparring was difficult. I couldn't focus.

I wasn't pleased with myself because I always want to try my hardest and give it my all...and it just wasn't happening with that headgear on. It was difficult for me to relax and think while I couldn't hang onto my depth perception.

My solution? Last night I slept with it on so that I could get used to how tight it fits. My reasoning was that if I could fall asleep with it on, I could definitely spar with it on Wednesday. I also wore it most of the day today and practiced striking with it on. I have to get used to it because we're getting advanced enough that strikes to the head will soon be a regular thing.

Being distracted and disoriented by something that's new can be a dangerous thing. It's important to keep ourselves focused on the task at hand. If we find ourselves in a situation that's a matter of safety or of life-and-death, it's not likely that we'll be able to keep our attention 100% focused on getting through it. When we're blindsided by something significant, it's really easy to be distracted by physical pain or mental uncertainty or fear and to lose our focus on finishing what needs to be done--whether that be finishing a fight quickly, or studying for a last-minute test, or making a dreaded phone call, or coming to a decision we don't want to make.

We can't prepare for everything, granted...but for the things we can prepare for, we should. Tonight, my headgear sleeps with me. Whatever it takes to make it work.

Keep Fighting

This is a miscellaneous entry.

Martial arts is about a lot of things. It's debatable (and has been debated by many, many people over the years) what the main focus of martial arts is, and it obviously has a different meaning to every person who studies it. But when it comes down to the skin and bones of martial arts, we who study it are learning to fight. We are learning to defend and to protect and to be prepared, but we are also learning to attack. We are also learning to strike when it really counts; when our safety and lives are in danger.

Sometimes we are in danger of our lives outside of the physical. Sometimes the situations in our lives can bring us to our knees. Sometimes they can surround us, corner us, outnumber us, outsmart us, surprise us, strike low, fight dirty, break bones, and generally break all of the rules of fair fighting. As a matter of fact, life doesn't play by any rules. Life doesn't fight fair. It strikes hard and fast directly at vital points...a formidable opponent.

But in the dojo, do we stay down on the mat when we get hit? No. We get back up.
On a cold, wet street full of assailants, do we stay on the ground and let them continue to beat us? No. We get back up. And when they don't fight fair, we go for the quickest, most effective strikes we can think of. Strikes to vital points like the neck. The eyes. The groin. The knees. We finish it and we finish it quickly.

When life throws us on the ground, it is exactly like hitting the mat in the dojo. It is the same situation as the one in the street. No matter how hard it is, no matter how much it hurts...we get back up. We train ourselves to defend. We train ourselves to protect. But most of all, we train ourselves to fight.

I'm missing some people right now who fought, but eventually let life beat them. It's hard to be alive, sometimes. It's really, really hard...for everybody. Life doesn't fight fair.

Hit the mat...hit the ground...hit rock bottom...but then get back up. Because the fight is worth it. It's always worth it.

Always.

Ready For Anything

Today I went over to Zak's house to help him make some plans for a family retreat we're doing at our church. It was fun. His house is really quiet when the entire youth group isn't packed inside. Imagine that. Anyway, I had just eaten lunch and was kind of tired because I tend to get less sleep on Saturday nights than I do normally (I teach Sunday school and often over-prepare). Right as I was about to leave his house, Zak came up behind me and put me in a rear-naked choke. I was NOT expecting this AT ALL and it really threw me for a loop.

In short, I panicked. My mind went somewhere else. I don't even remember whether or not I successfully got out of the choke hold. I know he let me go, but I'm not sure if I was effective at all. It's like my thought-process switched off and I reflexively reacted...but I don't remember how I reacted. It was different from practicing in the dojo. At least there's some warning when you're working on choke-holds in class. This was out of the blue; completely random. And while I'm sure Zak wasn't going all-out on me, it was still unsettling.

In reality, an attacker isn't going to announce, "Okay! I'm gonna choke you now!", he's just going to do it. You have to be ready and be able to implement the techniques learned in training. You have to be able to keep a clear head and know what to do, even though it might be a fight for your life. If you panic and your mind blanks like mine did today, you may or may not be able to defend yourself. The risk isn't worth the cost. You want to know that you'll be able to use what you've learned effectively. You want to get that guy OFF of you, as soon as possible. That requires a clear head and the ability to control your fear enough to be able to think about what you're doing.

We've got to be ready for anything. You never know when being prepared will be the difference between life and death. Keeping a clear head in the face of danger and fear has probably got to be one of the most difficult things to do, but it is very, very important. It's hard to learn how to keep your mind clear when you're scared, but fortunately, the ability to do hard things is something that can be learned with training. Especially martial arts training.

Sprawl

The first time we worked on sprawling, I didn't quite understand what it meant. Sensei had us pair off and practice what seemed to me like a jumping-on-each-other drill. That isn't what sprawling is, but I remember thinking to myself, "The last time I jumped on someone, I was shorter and at least ten years younger than I am now". Needless to say, I was hesitant about learning.

Not only was I hesitant about learning, but when I finally learned what sprawling is for (keeping yourself from being thrown by dropping your weight directly on your opponent and shooting your legs out behind you to widen your base), I was hesitant to do it the right way. I didn't really want to drop my weight on my partner.What if I found out that they couldn't support me and we both ended up getting hurt? I didn't want that. The point was to stop my partner, not kill them.

I still have trouble with it sometimes. I'm doing my best to just do it, but I've gotta be the weirdest martial arts person ever. I'll do pretty much anything to keep from hurting someone, even if it's detrimental to my training. Or at least, I used to be that way. I'm growing. Learning. Figuring out that I truly can rely on my classmates and Sensei to not let me hurt them. Accidents happen, but not so frequently that I should be as worried as I often get.

Anyway, this post is about trust. Martial arts has taught me a LOT of things, but trust is one of the biggest, most important lessons that I've had the privilege to learn about and improve on. From the first lesson I took, up until now, I've had to learn how to trust people in many different circumstances. There's physical trust, such as trusting my classmates to keep their guard up so I won't hurt them and to do their best not to hurt me; to practice with me like they mean it and to be able to hold my weight when I sprawl.

There's mental trust, like trusting them to treat me well and to help me learn; to not laugh at me when I mess up or otherwise embarrass myself; to be courteous and constructive; and to expect me to do the same for them.

And there's another kind of trust that I can't quite figure out how to articulate. This is the kind of trust that a team shares; trust that others around me who are learning the same thing will understand on a deeper level than anyone else the importance of training and how it applies to life. It's the kind of trust that people share when they have a common goal.

Anyway, I've learned that it isn't easy to trust; it must be earned. And the circumstances through which it can be earned must be genuine and pure. Sprawling gives me trouble sometimes. It's hard to let go and to trust someone other than yourself. But being alone, in my experience, is much more difficult...even if it seems easier. You miss so much when you practice by yourself. There are things in martial arts that only another human can help you to understand. Without people to help you train, you severely limit yourself. You can't sprawl by yourself.

Without people in your life, you can't lean on anyone. You have to do everything by yourself. Sometimes you're successful at that, but when something comes up that you can't handle alone, you need someone to help you up off the mat. And that requires taking a hand that's being held out. That requires trust. And trust requires courage.

Fall seven times, stand up eight. But you don't have to stand up by yourself. If you can stand up with someone else, you'll be that much more sturdy and strong.

Sprawling will become easier as I learn to trust more. Perhaps all I need to do...is practice.

Breaking Things

This is a miscellaneous entry.

Speaking of breaking things, I don't mean body parts...so don't worry! I'm talking about board-breaking. I broke my first board on Saturday at a demo. It was really exciting and it didn't hurt at all. I thought that it might, especially if I were to find out that I couldn't break it and instead ended up breaking my hand. With correctly applied force, however, I found that board breaking is (so far) not very difficult to do and is immensely satisfying and fun!

But since it was my first board-break ever, I had a moment of serious doubt about halfway through my palm-heel. There was a split second where I wondered whether my hand would go all the way through the board. I was already moving, though, so I couldn't really stop my momentum...which is a good thing because despite my short-lived doubt, my palm-heel went right through with no trouble. That moment of fear, though, was something else. I was already committed, so I knew that I wouldn't be able to stop myself before either the board broke or my hand did. And even though it was my own hand, I felt a little bit out of control, just for a second. It was kind of scary.

The reason I bring up this second of doubt is because I've been having a lot of those moments in my life, lately: just little split seconds of wondering, "Oh man...can I really do this?" and "will things really work out?". I think it's pretty normal to feel scared and doubtful in situations where you feel out of control. But being committed to pushing my hand all the way through the wood to the other side is what gave me the ability to break it. Had I stopped myself, even if I could have, I might have been injured anyway and I certainly wouldn't have been able to break the board. It's committing and pushing all the way through; seeing an idea or a situation through to completion with all your heart and strength that ultimately gets you to the goal.

And sometimes that requires a split second conquest of fear, as well.
Sometimes that requires the courage to take a risk...or a step in a new direction. Before I broke my board, Sensei told me to breathe, relax, take my time, and exhale on contact. Despite Sensei's great instructions, getting ready to hit the board was scary all the way up to the second before my hand actually made contact with the wood. Breaking the board, however, was easy. Committing was the hard part.

Courage is difficult sometimes, but when you commit; when you find it within yourself to do something even though it scares you, you'll find that your hand is that much more likely to break the board.

Knuckle Choke

Sometimes I feel like I have nothing to write about and sometimes I can think of so many things to write about that it's just not funny. Right now is definitely one of those times; so many things happened today that I could probably write three or four entries and still not be finished! I love it when that happens. It makes me feel like I'm really studying martial arts; not just the techniques but also the stuff that reaches a deeper level.

We did more BJJ today with the knuckle choke. In the knuckle choke, you straddle your opponent while pushing your fist (which is generally a hammer-fist) into their carotid artery. At the same time, your other arm goes around their neck from the underside while you grab your occupied arm (the one pushing on the carotid) with your free hand. Then you squeeze both your arm and your fist together until they tap out...or pass out, depending on whether you're doing it in practice or in a real life situation.

I don't like choke holds. Not at all. I'm an asthmatic, so I naturally fear not being able to breathe. Also, when I was young, somebody who should never have choked me, did. It's pretty difficult for me to not panic when I'm in a choke hold because of that. I don't generally like to admit it because I love pretty much everything about martial arts and I realize that my attitude is absolutely crucial to my learning, but honestly, choke holds scare the hell out of me. All of them...especially the knuckle choke, because it's a hold that's applied when you're on your back, which just so happens to be the position that my real-life assailant choked me in.

The first time Sensei showed us the knuckle choke was last week. I wasn't expecting it to be so alike my experience; nothing else had been, up to that point. I tapped before I ran out of air because it scared me so much. It's different now, though. Earlier today when we were first working on the hold, it really freaked me out. But by the end of class, Sensei had taught me the counter to it and had given me time to practice it.

It still scared me. I was still kind of freaked out. But now that I understand the choke a little better, I don't feel as scared as I did when it was unknown. Also, I don't feel as scared about what happened in real life. It was terrifying then, since I was just a kid, but now I know that if someone tries to do that to me any time in the near future, I'll be at least moderately prepared for it. I'll probably also have somewhat of an advantage over them, provided they aren't carrying a weapon...which may well be a possibility in a real situation.

So this entry is about fear, I guess. I am really afraid of choke holds, but not for the same reasons that I'm afraid of other things in martial arts. It's a real and tangible fear that isn't caused by my ever-present habit of over-thinking things. This really happened to me and it was terrifying. But even though practicing choke holds scares me and makes me remember what happened, I realize that someday I'll have to face that fear and be able to put it aside so that I can move on with my training...and life, as well. Fear can be crippling. It can hold us back and keep us from trusting and learning. In some cases, if fear is great enough, it can destroy inner-peace and keep us from feeling happiness.

I'm starting to realize that. The defense against the guillotine choke from the side is to find a way to get flat on your back and stare your opponent in the face, so that he can't choke you out anymore. At that point, you can gain the upper-hand by thrusting your hips to off-balance him and flipping over him so that you're the one on top. Perhaps to really conquer my fear of choke holds, I have to find a way to stare them in the face and decide that they're not going to bother me anymore.

It's never fun to get choked, granted, but it doesn't have to work me up as much as it does. Because of my traumatic experience, when we work choke holds I am always reminded of what it's like to be helpless at the hands of someone that's trying to hurt me. But I've been working on various choke defenses for a year. I am no longer helpless...and I suppose I should really think about that next time I'm in a hold.

They never tell you how difficult it is to conquer fear. But they also don't mention that it's having the courage to TRY doing what seems difficult that really makes the spirit indomitable.

Sparring and the art of not running away

Sparring is hard.

Yep. That's it; that's the whole entry. I'm done.
Nah, just kidding. But really, I've learned that sparring doesn't just come naturally; unless you're practiced in it (like with most things), you'll find yourself getting hit a lot. Unfortunately getting hit a lot is something that I try to avoid, naturally. 

Of course, with sparring, pain is unavoidable. Which I don't like. The only way to practice sparring is to get hit a lot. For someone like me, who is...well...not a big fan of pain, this creates a high-threat situation. In short, it freaks me out and I want to run away!
So basically, I'm a martial arts enthusiast that likes everything except...fighting.
Great...

But anyway, sparring is also hard because when you're in the moment, it's very easy for your mind to go completely blank. Conversely, it's also possible to have a complete overload of options where you're overwhelmed into inaction...and then you get hit. I think this is why repetition and refinement of a few choice techniques is extremely important.

While I was waiting to spar with Zach today, I was thinking about how I could set up an axe kick and completely surprise him, but my first priority is to not get hit. Of course, that itself is a recipe for inaction and...well, I lost that match, but my point is, I didn't do the axe kick because it was easier to do a front kick. Why? Not because I don't know how to do an axe kick; not because it was physically easier to do a front kick in that position, but because my mind went directly to the kick that I knew would deliver the results that I wanted. Axe kicks are flashy and are also very effective if done at the right moment, but there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that the front kick would've landed and scored me a point.

The axe kick might have given me the element of surprise, but I wasn't thinking about that. My mind went straight to whatever was at the front of my 'bag of tricks', as Sensei calls it. I suppose we could chalk that up to being in the moment, because when you get the adrenaline rush and your brain goes into overdrive, in any situation, thinking clearly is a very hard thing to do. There's hardly any time to think, "Okay, well this kick would be better than this kick in this situation" if the other guy is about to hit you. You're going to do the reflexive thing, and for me, that was the front kick and NOT the axe kick...Even though the axe kick might have been a better choice.

So, the reason that this entry is called "Sparring and the art of not running away" is because the first thing at the top of my list, at the moment, is to not get hit under any circumstance. This, I've found, is a recipe for disaster and I'm trying to change it. Or perhaps I'm not trying to change it, but I'm trying to think of ways to work around it. Changing instinct is extremely hard. Nobody wants to get hurt, no matter what they've trained themselves to do. It's the 'training yourself' thing that I'm struggling with.

I don't have to like getting hit, but I can teach myself to think away from instinct. Perhaps what I need to do is to practice applying the axe kick to more situations. Maybe I need to practice my crescent kicks and my hook kicks as often as I practice my front kicks. I need to find a way to make those other kicks reflexive. And maybe I need to practice getting hit so that I can better recognize the difference between a threatening and a non-threatening situation.

Truthfully, at this point, I'd rather run away from a sparring match than actually make a move. I'd rather block everything, time-out, and have nobody score...but that's unrealistic and it defeats the purpose of sparring, which is to practice applying what you know.
And since getting hit is unavoidable, I suppose there's no point in being hesitant.

But anyway, martial arts is teaching me a lot about courage. And about learning how to think away from instinct. Every time I practice sparring, I learn something. It's win-win, even when I get hit. That doesn't make getting hit feel any better, but at least I know that there's always something to gain from it.

I suppose it's all a matter of perspective.