Don’t Get Staph

The headline summarizes my advice to you, the reader. After wrestling in middle school and a year in high school — and after 18 months of training BJJ — I finally zigged when staph zagged.

It’s frustrating, because I’ve been training really hard for the Pans at the end of the month, and when the infection hit I felt like I was better than ever in terms of technique, timing and conditioning. Making matters doubly vexing, I’m the guy who takes every precaution: I always wash all my gear after every use, even my belt; we mop our mats after every class; I use Athletic Body Care body wash and lotion.

Ultimately, no matter how many precautions you take, mat-borne illness can get you. It’s just part of the price of admission to this great sport of ours. (I’m particularly at risk, I must acknowledge, because I have eczema, so I have more breaks in my skin than most people on average).

I was lucky. I was also paranoid. These two factors enabled me to catch it early. I tell this story so others will know the warning signs. Hopefully you’ll never need to know these signs, but if you have the misfortune to get the illness, the sooner you get after it, the better.

Training the previous night had gone great. It was my 24th straight day training, but I didn’t feel run down or sore. But when I went to bed, my shin was sore. “Huh,” I thought. “I must’ve clashed shins with someone and not realized it.” I didn’t see a bruise, but you don’t always turn black and blue when you get whacked.

About a half-hour later, I noticed a small patch of my skin had turned red. I raised an eyebrow at this.

About a half-hour after that, a portion of my shin about 3.5 inches by one inch was red and swollen. My skin felt stretched out, and the ara felt warm to the touch. Uh oh.

I called the doctor.

Fortunately, they were able to see me just two hours later (if they had put me off, I would have gone to the emergency room). I was amazed to hear that most people my doctor sees that have staph wait until it starts to weep before they make an appointment. By this point, you’re a raging mess of contagion and it takes much more work to get the infection under control.

Since I have no illusions that I am stronger than a bunch of microbes, I eagerly accepted the powerful antibiotics she prescribed and gobbled those suckers down.

As if you needed convincing, having staph (even a mild case) is awful. There’s the pain, of course: mine felt about twice as sore as the worst bruise I’ve ever had. The antibiotics themselves mess you up, too, and take my advice: do not gobble these on an empty stomach. If you’ve been given the right medicine, you will get sick.

Far and away the worst part for me, though, was just not being able to train. I feel the same way about injuries: being off the mat drives me crazy, and retards my progress. Injuries are the enemy.

Infections are worse, though, because if you’re honest about what you’ve got (and you MUST be, unless you’re a real prick), a lot of people will balk at training with you. This is totally understandable: nobody wants this stuff, and with good reason.

So I played it safe. I was told on Thursday that I wasn’t contagious, but I waited four days after that to get back on the mat. No reason to take unnecessary risks, and even though it was driving me crazy not to train, I wanted to be certain I wasn’t putting anyone else in danger.

Needless to say, it was a big setback. I took time off from training, missed a US Grappling tournament (I’d signed up to do all eight divisions again), and generally had to sit inside and sleep a lot. And it could have been a lot worse.

So now, several days after that, I only have one more day in my antibiotic regimen. Hopefully, this will end both the staph and the “feeling like crap from antibiotics” portion of this training camp.

Fortunately, I have implemented a new anti-staph strategy in my training.

Rainbow tights: is there anything they can’t do?

The rainbow scares away the microbes, you see.

The Mink Gi

Two quick facts: first, my gym shares a space with Cageside Fight Co. Second, I’m a huge gi nerd. I don’t buy many, but I covet a lot of them, especially the ones with innovative fabric.

(I buy most of my gear from Cageside — they don’t pay me to say this, but they have great products at great prices with terrific service. Plus, their Genesis gi is right up there with my Moya as my favorite kimono, and it’s much less expensive.)

Bamboo is one of the fabrics of the future. It grows quickly, so it’s sustainable, it’s super-soft (I have bamboo sheets) and it’s also durable. But only Lucky makes a bamboo gi at this point as far as I know. Since Boomer (Cageside’s owner) makes gis, I asked if he’d ever considered adding a gi made of bamboo to his line.

“I’ve considered making a gi out of mink,” he deadpanned. A droll wit, that Boomer.

Hence, I had to do this:

No animals were harmed in the making of this Photoshop.

Looking back at this one, there are definitely things I’d fix about this Photoshop — it’s one of the first ones I did when learning the program. But I still chuckle looking at it, and that counts for something.

For the record, I would totally buy a bamboo gi. I would jump all over a hemp gi. But no, I would not actually buy a mink gi.

At least one of my training partners would, though.

 

[Edit: And here’s a quick close up on the gi, which should give all you fake fur entrepreneurs out there some fashion concepts to work with.]

Off the Rails

Every school has different belt promotion traditions. For some, a simple handshake and a handoff of the belt suffice. For others, you get thrown, get choked, or have to run a gauntlet of belt-whipping. There are probably numerous other traditions I’m ignorant of.

For our school, the tradition is the belt train.

This weekend, we’re having a seminar where some of my teammates may rank up. This brought back memories of my own belt train which I bring to you now in photo and video form.

What is a belt train, you might ask? It’s a marathon rolling session where, for a certain amount of time, you stay on the mat while a new person jumps on you every minute. For a blue belt, it’s around 15 minutes; for a purple belt, 30; for a brown belt, 45; and for the coveted black belt, a full hour. In my case, there were 18 people in class, so my train was 18 minutes.

Your idea of the train beforehand.

Making matters worse, everyone ranked below you can pick the starting position: they can be on your back if they want, or they can force you to stay standing to wear you out.

Because people go in order of rank, just as you’re getting tired, you start to get jumped on by the people who can ordinarily handle you anyway. The instructor, who can handle everybody anyway, goes last.

What the train is really like afterward.

To be honest, I really enjoyed mine. Not every minute of it, mind you: that final minute was excruciating. But there’s something about going through something like that with your training partners that’s really powerful. I feel about it the same way I feel about writing: I might not enjoy it, but I enjoy having done it.

Without further ado, let me deliver unto you the video. If you’ve come looking for the trainwreck, here it is.

The first 4:45 is banter that, while witty and effervescent, may not be interesting to you unless you know my training partners. After that it’s pure visceral ass-kickery. Enjoy!

My personal favorite parts:

7:58: Am I really getting assaulted by a dude in a tie-dyed gi?

9:26: It’s always fun to roll with someone more than twice your size. When he goes knee on belly, the audible OHHHHHH from the crowd is pretty funny.

12:50: I get jumped on from behind. Sadly, you can’t tell the deep oil check at 13:20 or so is happening, though you can hear people joking about it (“He’s a quart low!”)

14:52: The author of this blog is a good friend of mine, and is as badass as she is nice (and she is very nice!). You can hear through the whole video people telling her not to take it easy on me. “If you take it easy,” our instructor said, “you get a train of your own.” Good times!

16:27: Uh oh, I am getting Supermanned.

17:10: Uh, oh, I am getting lifted up by the pants and then dropped. Then comes the knee on belly.

McKayla is not impressed with your knee on belly, but I am.

17:50: My instructor tells me I have 10 seconds to re-tie the pants, and if I fail, I get two minutes with him. Yikes! At the end of the rapid-fire pants-tie, one of my training partners — a former college wrestler — double-legs me and hits a beautiful can opener. Man, I’m glad I do yoga.

18:45: I get put into a body triangle and the instructor tells my training partner not to tap me — just hold me there. The result is the best picture of the train:

Feels as good as it looks!

… and because I’m learning Photoshop, I had to do this:

This feels like Sistine Crap-pel. Hey, Yahweh, a little help?

 

20: 15: The most dramatic moment of the train. You can see my try to sit guard a few times, and hear my training partner tell me “Get up! You aren’t robbing me of this.” Then, at 20:20 he hits a sick throw that gets the biggest pop from the crowd (and my back).

I made an animated GIF of that throw, but can’t find it right now. I’ll add it if I find it later, or make another for those of you who can’t watch video at work.

Now, the last minute of this might not look like much, but God, it is miserable. My instructor’s mount pressure is brutal under the best of circumstances, but to have it happen after 17 minutes, when he just steps right into mount, when I’m exhausted, and when he strips away my defensive frames like they’re nothing …

Yes, it was a humbling experience. A humbling experience that left me looking like this:

Let’s get back to training!

I actually really like this picture. It’s clear I’m exhausted, but it’s also clear that I’ve survived, and that my instructor is helping me get up. As a friend of mine told me once, I’m never down: I’m either up or getting up.

Following this weekend, I’m looking forward to helping some of my teammates get up.