training - Dirty White Belt

October 1, 2014

Degree of Difficulty, or Driving in Sicily

For the past week, I’ve been watching closely for motorbikes zipping around me in any direction, improbable lane changes and aggressive double parking. I’ve been honked at for stopping at a stop sign, cut off by not one but two pedestrians strolling their children, backs firmly placed to the rush hour traffic. By the time I pulled into the gas station and saw the guy smoking while pumping his gas, I almost welcomed the oncoming explosion.

Here’s a time-lapse photo series that gives you only the barest idea of what this driving experience was like:

But it got better.

Why did it get better? I flew into Catania a week ago with the plan to spend a few days here at the beginning of my driving tour through the largest Mediterranean island. During those few days, I saw all of the above multiple times, plus a guy in a full wrist-to-shoulder cast use his crippled wing to hold his phone while he screamed into the receiver — all the while weaving through traffic in full defiance of lanes, laws and common decency. For obvious reasons, I walked a lot.

Once I got out in the country, the degree of difficulty diminished considerably. Partly, this was because the rural environments were less crowded. Upon returning to Catania it occurred to me that I’d picked the deepest end of the pool to start with: flying in to a busy university town after dark and trying to find a tiny road that even locals hadn’t heard of.

I drove back to Catania in the middle of rush hour today, though, and I noticed something: I was still a tourist, but I was able to get into the flow of traffic better. Little old men were only cutting me off when I let them. I could identify a valid parking space and capture it with minimal trauma.

This made me think about jiu-jitsu. Not just because everything makes me think about jiu-jitsu, although of course that is also true.

The gym where I train has grown a lot. When I started, there were perhaps 10 serious regulars at the classes I attended. I had no idea what I was getting into, and back then we all rolled after our first class.

My first rolls were with my instructor; a very successful pro MMA fighter (he’d heard I’d wrestled a year in high school, so we started standing); a monster wrestler who was a three-stripe blue belt at the time; and a then-purple belt who has crushed tournaments ever since I’ve known him. I can’t recall if I rolled with the future blue belt world champion at my first or second class, but it was one of the two. There weren’t many other white belts, and there certainly weren’t any that I was better than.

It went how you’d expect. This was the deep end of the pool. This was driving in Sicily.

I trained a while. Got crushed every night. I was having too much fun learning things to be upset about the litany of kicking that my solitary ass took.

White belt life: I didn't know much, but hard training taught me to close that guard pretty fast. — White belt life: I didn’t know much, but hard training taught me to close that guard pretty fast. Not sure what else I’m doing here.

In the coming months, I was still at the bottom of the ladder, but the sink-or-swim situation I was in forced me to get a solid grounding in the fundamentals. First I was still getting passed easily, but I knew when to shrimp. Then I was still getting mounted but I knew to keep my elbows tight. Maybe I’d see my opponent do something that I had no idea about, but I knew to protect my neck and face.

This was real progress! When new white belts came in, even the really big and strong ones had a tough time submitting me. I had a lot of practice trying (and mostly failing) to survive against bigger, stronger, more skilled people. This was a huge help that I’m still thankful for.

Train with lions, and even if you're the runt of the litter, you'll grow. — Train with lions, and even if you’re the runt of the litter, you’ll grow.

[Note: I have mixed feelings on whether it’s good for new people to roll their first week. Generally, I think Roy Marsh has a solid philosophy on this: people wait to roll until they have some basics, and he has a standard safety spiel before each rolling session. But that’s the subject for another post. Anyway, the deep-end experience was good for me, but might not be best for most folks.]

I mention degree of difficulty, too, because it’s important to have training partners that challenge you, push you and tap you. We all know the White Belt Hunter: he’s the guy who gets his blue belt and looks around the room for less experienced, ideally smaller people, never realizing that those people are getting better at a faster rate than he is. Making progress — especially early, but at every stage of the game — requires skilled, tough partners.

The progress in my early jiu-jitsu life mirrors my return to Catania. I’m still overmatched driving here, but I know some basics I didn’t know before. It makes getting around easier, less stressful, and more fun.

The first time I successfully cut off that driver who was trying to get over on me and laughed at the guy who hesitated and was lost reminded me of my first successful escape from back control: yes, you’re better than I am, and yes, this is a small victory in the grand scheme of things. But this small victory is helping me improve — and helping me become a better training partner.

I still train with all of the people who I mentioned at the beginning of the post. They’re still all better than I am. Rolling with them is more fun than it’s ever been, though, and more productive for all of us.

Why am I writing this? Perspective. Our near-term goals don’t have to be to beat everybody, or to speak a language fluently, or to drive like a local (n fact, please don’t drive like a Sicilian local). I don’t miss getting my face smashed every night, just like I don’t miss feeling utterly lost on the roads. That time investment helped me build a foundation, and I recognize that.

Keep focusing on building that foundation, and your journey will get more enjoyable with each step. Even if you have to step into the deep end of the pool.

September 23, 2014

Road Trip

Last night, I got to train once again with Royce Gracie. It’s always a terrific experience, and I learned a lot.

Making this a tremendous 24 hours — and no, I didn’t plan it this way — this morning I’m leaving for a month-long trip through Italy and Greece. My mom is retiring, so I’m going to travel with her. We’ve never really had the chance, and I’m grateful for it.

Of course, I’m going to train along the way. Don’t worry, mom knows.

I’ll be starting in Sicily, moving through Italy via Rome, Florence and Venice, and then heading to Athens. I made a Google Map of the places I’m going to try to train (some of the pins are hotels — sadly, there are no academies on Santorini that I know of). If I have Internet access I’ll try to blog along the way about the places I train.

On the off chance that anyone reading this has academy recommendations, feel free to leave ’em in the comments or email me! Or, if you see a nerdy-looking dude with a black backpack walking through Italy or Greece, just stop the person and ask if they want to train. It’s probably me, and I probably do.

July 10, 2014

Learn the Rules of JiuJitsu, Break the Rules of JiuJitsu

“Learn the rules, break the rules, make up new rules, break the new rules.” — Marvin Bell

The American poet Marvin Bell has a tremendous body of work that spans traditional, experimental and radical forms. His work is passionate, intricate and thoughtful — and as you’d expect, this makes him worth listening to when he talks about creating art.

There are points of commonality between the literary arts and the martial ones. I’ve been thinking about writing more lately, so I returned to some Marvin Bell texts the other day.

What does this have to do with training? I was struck by how many of Marvin Bell’s 32 Statements About Poetry sound, with minimal editing, like he could be talking about jiu-jitsu.

Below, I’ve taken many of the 32 statements and lightly edited them. I removed the ones that are just about the process of writing poetry. But I kept the majority of the statements, replacing “poetry” with “jiu-jitsu” and “writing” with “training,” for example. To me, there are significant insights that cross over. This might say something about the practice of each art, or it might simply speak well of Bell’s observations about life.

If you’re interested in poetry, check out the original 32 statements (and, while you’re at it, The Book of the Dead Man). If you’re just here for the jiu-jitsu, read on for some advice from a different type of artist.

The Dead Man would actually make a pretty sweet gi patch.

1. Every jiu-jitsu practitioner is an experimentalist.

Jiu-jitsu is like science: we experiment with techniques. If the techniques work against a resisting opponent, we keep using and refining them. If not, they’re changed or discarded. And each of us has different physical attributes: for a time, I experimented with the body triangle. Upon my scientific discovery that I had stubby legs ill-suited for the task, I moved on. Training means trying things and finding what works for you.

2. Learning jiu-jitsu is a simple process: learn something, then train it; learn something else, then train something else. And show in your training what you have learned.

Jiu-jitsu is a deep, rich, complex art: jiu-jitsu is hard. In contrast, learning jiu-jitsu is easy. You find a great instructor, show up and do what they say. Drill the older stuff regularly, and be open when they show you something new.

3. There is no one way to train and no right way to train.

One of the instructors I respect most is old school, but also open-minded. After he watched a Caio Terra DVD, he remarked about how odd it was that Caio teaches techniques in a radically different way than he does — but the technique still makes sense. This is one reason Dave Camarillo’s maxim “train with everyone” is so apt: there are many things to learn and many different ways to learn them.

This man might not be able to tap you (or he might, who knows?). But he has knowledge that can improve your jiu-jitsu.

4. The good stuff and the bad stuff are all part of the stuff. No good stuff without bad stuff.

5. Learn the rules, break the rules, make up new rules, break the new rules.

Some of Bell’s statements I didn’t have to edit at all: these two were among them. These are true of poetry and jiu-jitsu and life. The latter in particular has echoed in my head for many years.

In jiu-jitsu, I think about rules like “hands off the mat,” which new people absolutely need to internalize. Then you train for a while and you learn exceptions. But this simple dozen words could be a philosophy all its own.

6. You do not learn from work like yours as much as you learn from work unlike yours.

I will never pull 50/50. Yet I own Tony Pacenski’s 50/50 guard DVD set. This is both because it’s important to learn the techniques you’ll come up against, and because it gives me a window into a way of doing things that is vastly different from my own.

7. Originality is a new amalgam of influences.

Ryan Hall is justifiably known for making great instructional DVDs. One of the things I like most about them is that Ryan explicitly mentions where he learned certain techniques and principles — almost like an academic citing sources. The way he thinks about jiu-jitsu is original, but includes knowledge he’s gathered from other sources. In amalgamation there is creativity.

Like it says in Hamlet, there is nothing new under the sun. We stand on the shoulders of those who came before us.

(This is also, incidentally, a reason I love rap music and mash-ups: creative combination and repurposing of found objects. But that’s a different post.)

"Wait, you're going to use this image in a weird post about poetry? ... Blue belts." — “Wait, you’re going to use this image in a weird post about poetry or something? … Sigh. Blue belts.”

8. Try to drill techniques at least one person in the room will hate.

You can take this one of two ways. Either “that guy is going to make fun of me for drilling berimbolo, but I’m going to do it anyway,” or “I am going to drill heavy pressure techniques, like the kind Roy Marsh teaches, and give people free chiropractic adjustments.”

Like Bell says, there’s no one way to do things.

12. It’s not what one begins with that matters; it’s the quality of attention paid to it thereafter.

I started out with much better takedowns and takedown defense than one of my training partners. She’s been working assiduously on it, and now she’s basically caught up to me. Nothing is static.

21. Jiu-jitsu has content but is not strictly about its contents.

These days when I go to a seminar I’m more interested in conceptual understanding than I am in learning new moves. Concepts are more important than contents. Once you have a bucket, you can always fill it with water. If you have no bucket, get all the water you want, and all you’ll have is a wet floor.

Leo Vieira told me at a seminar this year: “As long as I am comfortable and using less energy than my opponent, I’m doing the right thing.” It blew my mind.

23. One does not learn by having a teacher do the work.

You can ask your instructor to show you every technique they know. They can spend weeks of their life doing so. If you don’t drill constantly, you won’t learn even one of those.

Sometimes you have to turn upside down. — Sometimes you have to turn upside down yourself instead of having the teacher tell you to turn upside down.

28. Jiu-jitsu is a manifestation of more important things. On the one hand, it’s art! On the other, it’s just art.

Dave Camarillo’s academy has one rule: respect. It’s amazing how one principle can apply to all practices and situations.

It’s great to learn self-defense, just like it’s great to learn to move people with poetic words. But it’s really about the larger picture: respect, beauty, work ethic and becoming a better person.

29. Viewed in perspective, Parnassus is a very short mountain.

I’m just going to leave that right where it is. It’s perfect.

30. A good workshop continually signals that we are all in this together, teacher too.

Bell wrote this about writing workshops, but the best jiu-jitsu seminars are like this.

Murilo Bustamante, a man who as achieved more as a competitor, coach and instructor than 99 percent of people ever will, came to teach where I train. He listened to every question. He showed every detail people needed help with. He had enormous respect from everyone before he walked into the room and left with more than when entered.

32. Art is a way of life, not a career.

That says it all, no?

May 22, 2014

Do Not Apologize For Losing

Have you ever apologized after a loss? If so, stop it.

I’m not talking about the extreme situations here where you do something foolish that causes a loss — failing to prepare properly, or making a huge mistake ignoring your coach’s advice during the match. If you do those things, go ahead and say you’re sorry.

That’s not usually what happens, though. Most often we lose because we had a tough matchup, or because we’re learning and growing and ran into a situation where we didn’t know the right thing to do.

Mostly, I’m talking to myself here: I used to apologize when I got knocked out of tournaments. I used to feel like I’d let my teammates, coach and training partners down if I lost.

There is no "I" in "emo," but there is a "me." — There is no “I” in “emo,” but there is a “me.”

This is very different from my perspective now. I have begun think of tournament competitions as just an extension of training: instead of training with the people I roll with everyday, I’m putting myself in a different situation with an opponent whose techniques are unknown. This is an extremely valuable training experience, since you aren’t going to know if your opponent wrestled, did judo or anything else.

Changing this viewpoint took me a long time. The impulse to say “sorry” is understandable: your instructor and training partners put a ton of energy, sweat and bodily risk into helping you prepare. You want to run strong for them.

But I came to realize that it misses the point: it misses the process, the journey. It misses what makes you proud about your gym and teammates. When I sat down and thought about what makes me proud of my instructor and teammates, competitive success barely made the list.

I’m proud of the way we support each other. I’m proud of the way nobody lets anybody else quit during a hard workout. I’m proud of my friends’ competitive achievements, yes, but I’m just as impressed by the grinders that show up and train every day even though they haven’t had tournament success — maybe even more so. I’m proud that, like any family, we sometimes bicker but we get over it and keep helping each other get better.

What’s a medal compared to that? What’s a great day at a tournament — even the best day — compared to years of that shared experience?

A loss might end a tournament for you. It might sting. It should sting: if you’re preparing right, you’ve put a ton of effort into the experience. That tiny part of your jiu-jitsu journey might end in that painful fashion.

But a loss won’t stop your gym, and a loss won’t stop you. The journey goes on. The effort you put into training, the work you put in and the sacrifices you made don’t go away. They’re the ingredients that have made you improve, at jiu-jitsu and at life.

The process is the big picture. Think of a tournament as just part of training, a necessary but impermanent part of your permanent, day-to-day practice.

So go out there and win every match if you can. But if you lose, you don’t owe me, or your teammates — or anyone — an apology. You don’t owe anyone anything but, where applicable: “thanks for helping me out: see you in the gym tomorrow.”

March 28, 2014

The Union of Yoga And BJJ

Since I was six years old, I’ve been doing yoga in one form or another. Over the past three years, though, my jiu-jitsu training has relegated my yoga practice to an occasional enterprise.

This isn’t abnormal for me. My yoga practice has always run in cycles. Thankfully, over the past few months I’ve been able to work more yoga into the routine, usually two or three times a week. That’s one class of hatha yoga and one or two classes of Bikram yoga — the kind you practice in an artificially hot room.

Both have real benefits. And I’m not the only one who thinks so! From Rickson Gracie to Sebastian Broche‘s Yoga For BJJ project, the old school and the new seem to concur that yoga helps with your training and your life. Nick Gregoriades of the Jiu-Jitsu Brotherhood, a Roger Gracie black belt, says that he finds yoga to be “by far the most effective” additional training method.

Let me drop 10 things yoga does for your jiu-jitsu, some of which are meant to be taken more seriously than others.

1. Flexibility. This is the most obvious one. Yoga is always going to improve your ability to bend, which has a wide array of benefits. And Bikram Yoga’s 100-plus degree room ensures you’ll be warm when you begin.

I don’t have any photos of me doing Bikram yoga. This is totally me as far as you know.

To be honest, though, I find jiu-jitsu improves my flexibility for yoga just as much as the converse. The positions we find ourselves in while training are different than yoga postures, so I think these two activities are self-supporting.

2. Injury Prevention. Injury is the enemy. Although Dalton from Road House once astutely observed that “pain don’t hurt,” an injury does keep you off the mat, which is way worse than feeling pain. As a smaller person, I’ve been squashed in numerous different positions. Without the strength and flexibility I’ve built through years of yoga, instead of discomfort several of those positions would have caused time off from jiu-jitsu. Staying on one mat helps you stay on the other.

3. Healthy Habits. Making healthy choices creates a positive feedback loop. If you eat poorly, you feel badly, and you don’t train. If you don’t train, you feel badly, and avoid training. One of the benefits of jiu-jitsu is also a benefit of yoga: it encourages that positive feedback loop. We all know we should drink more water, for example. But get up for a Bikram yoga class, and that will come into stark relief. You’ll drink that water, you’ll feel better, and you’ll have more fun training jiu-jitsu later. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I'm supposed to drink more than a gallon of water a day. I knocked out 72 ounces before 8 a.m. this morning thanks to a 6 a.m. Bikram class. — I’m supposed to drink more than a gallon of water a day. I knocked out 72 ounces before 8 a.m. this morning thanks to a 6 a.m. Bikram class.

4. Balance. True, the best way to get good at something is to do a lot of it. I’m a huge believer in training jiu-jitsu to get good at jiu-jitsu. But so much of jiu-jitsu is about getting on top and staying there that balance shouldn’t be understated. So many yoga postures provide the balance and strength that help you avoid sweeps. The Bikram balancing series is challenging even for seasoned athletes, and I’m sure it has helped me dance out of De La Riva sweeps more than once.

5. The Ego Check. Again, this is something that jiu-jitsu is also wonderful for. We’ve all seen the young, dieseled up MMA fighter come into a jiu-jitsu gym and get submitted by the lady, the old guy, and the small guy. There is always something humbling in training.

But yoga comes with a different type of ego control. Even when I’m in my best shape, there are grandmothers who can do postures better than I can, who can hold poses longer and somehow maintain serenity while I’m dying. This keeps you mindful and humble.

It’s here that I want to quote Sebastian Broche: “The more Yoga and BJJ you practice, the more you will realize that the essence in the two is the same, and everything you learn in Yoga can be immediately applied on the mat.” It’s true!

6. Laundry. I’m the sweaty guy in the gym anyway. I bring two towels to Bikram yoga classes and when class is done, they’re both soaked. Working hard for 90 minutes in a 110 degree room makes you thirsty for a reason, and all the water has to have gone somewhere.

This leads to the World’s Toughest Laundry. I might not be able to tap you, but my laundry can beat up your laundry, or at least asphyxiate it. At least you can say to your romantic partner when they sniff your car with derision, “no, I didn’t leave a stinky gi in the car this time.”

7. Great Early Morning Training. I do 6 a.m. drilling twice a week. I am deeply grateful for the training partners I have who get up with me, because most gyms don’t have pre-work classes. Many yoga studios do, however, and it’s a tremendous way to start the day. That’s in no small part because of …

8. Mental Strength. There’s a lot to this particular intangible. Personally, I don’t find it hard to find motivation when I’m training jiu-jitsu. Someone is trying to choke me and bend my limbs the wrong way: that’s incentive enough. Yoga presents different mental challenges: the ability to stay focused, to stay calm, and to focus precisely on one’s breath. And you don’t have anyone else challenging you, so you have to find your own fortitude.

When I did a seminar with the great Rickson Gracie, he said learning breath techniques was the second-most important thing he ever did (after jiu-jitsu itself). So there you go.

If Rickson does it, you might think about doing it, too.

9. Weight Loss. I’m not a big believer in “weight loss” in and of itself. I think we should eat healthy, train hard, and however many pounds our healthy body is, that’s just fine. But in reality, especially here in America, many peoples’ fitness goals include weight loss. Yoga is a relatively low-impact way for people carrying extra pounds to get to their goals in a steady, healthy fashion.

Also, you may have noticed: jiu-jitsu competitions have weight classes. Do absolute, but if you need to get into a particular weight class, also do yoga.

Finally,

10. [Something Different]. I mean “something different” in two senses here: yoga is something different to diversify your training, but I also expect you will find benefits to yoga that are different than the items on this list. Like jiu-jitsu, there are numerous benefits to the practice that vary from person to person. What I’ve listed are the reasons I have: your list may (and should) include something different.

Yoga means union. If you’re looking to unite your jiu-jitsu training with another system, yoga might be for you.

January 29, 2014

How Early Should I Compete?

This weekend is US Grappling’s first tournament of the year, Submission Only Greensboro, which always gets the new folks asking: is it too early for me to compete?

I’ve had a couple of these questions already, so I wanted to explain my own philosophy on this. It’s different for every person (more on that below), but here are the general principles I start from.

1. Competition Is Very Valuable Experience For Everyone.

Even if you don’t plan to be a regular medal hunter, I think you — and everyone — should give a tournament a shot.

It’s a different intensity from daily sparring, and it’s hard to find that intensity elsewhere. It gives you the opportunity to roll against people that you know nothing about, so you can’t predict what techniques are likely to come at you. And it gives you the chance to set a goal, train hard for it, and go all-out for victory once the day comes. That’s great training!

Take it from the great Royler Gracie: everyone should compete at least once.

Apart from the standard benefits of competition, consider this: your training partners probably like you. Unless you are a jerk, but if you are reading this blog, then you are not a jerk. That means even if you roll hard, like we do at my academy, they are probably trying to be technical when rolling with you and avoid doing overly terrible things to you.

My training partners are very technical, have great cardio, and are relentless. We roll hard against each other. But if I get a collar grip and there’s hair in there, I’m not going to keep my grip and pull that person’s hair. If someone gets a choke on me, but it’s not a clean choke and they can’t finish, that person is probably not going to just facecrush me and give me gi burn.

… probably.

Where medals are at stake, though? Against someone who doesn’t know you? All bets are off. Facing off against someone who has no stake in you personally, knowing that person is trying to choke you or bend your joints the wrong way — and surviving that — is a powerful thing.

When a match ends, you know that person has done their level best to beat you up. And you made it out the other side. Competition gives you that satisfaction.

2. Have The Right Attitude About Competition

Especially during the first stages of your jiu-jitsu career, you’re there to learn. Period.

Thus, I don’t generally think new people should put tremendous pressure on themselves to win when competing. Don’t misunderstand me: You should always go out there with the goal to win every match, and the attitude that you’re going to win every match.

But you should also be able to put the tournament in perspective. If you lose every match, you’ve still gained valuable knowledge and experience. Now you know what it’s like to be around the hustle and bustle of a tournament, make weight, hear someone shout your name and push you out onto a mat to grapple against someone you don’t know.

That’s a huge win for you, even if you enter four divisions and go 0-4. Very few people compete their best during their first tournament. Getting the first one out of the way is a big step.

3. In General, People Should Compete As Early As Possible …

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you should register for the Pans after your second class. But assuming you know one or two things to do from the major positions, I say go for it.

Personally, I competed very early on — my first tournament was after I had trained for a month. I think that was good for me. I won some matches, I lost some matches, I made some cringe-worthy decisions that I look back on with laughter, and I learned a lot of things not to do. And I was hooked.

This is my first ever gi match. Danger: No Stripe White Belt Trying To Pull Guard

This part is significant: I don’t even notice the hustle and bustle and excitement of tournaments anymore. After that first one, I started competing as often as possible.But I had a huge adrenaline dump after my first match at my first tournament, and wow, was I unprepared for that. It can be overwhelming your first time.

Yes, I have video of that match. No, you can’t see it.

That doesn’t happen to me any more, and I’m glad it happened a month in instead of a year in. Getting your first time out of the way early on means you’ll be all the more ready for the next one.

4. … But If You Don’t Feel Ready, It’s Better To Wait.

I always tell people that if they have any doubts about whether they’re ready for the experience, they should wait to compete. Feeling comfortable is important! This is what you do for fun, so you should enjoy it. Being unsure if you’re ready isn’t fun.

Now, there is a balance to be struck here. Everyone gets nervous, and it’s easy to find an excuse. How many people tell you they’re going to start training “as soon as they get in shape,” and then never get in “good enough” shape?

Part of the value of competition is challenging yourself to get out of that comfort zone. It’s hugely empowering to feel overwhelming nerves, to not be sure you should even be doing something, and then come out the other side.

Here’s how I resolve the balance. Anything that keeps people training is a good thing, in my view. If a competition risks robbing someone of the joy of training, that’s too early. So if you feel like you can handle losing, and it won’t discourage you, I say go for it.

As long as you enjoy yourself, you’ve won, even if you’ve lost every match.

5. Competition Gives You The Individual And Team Experience

You step out on the mat alone. No one is going to take that guy down for you, pass his guard, or choke him for you.

But you’re not alone. You didn’t train alone. You aren’t at the tournament alone. Your coach can’t armbar your opponent, but he or she can tell you where to move your leg so that you can do it yourself. And your team, if it’s anything like mine, will scream their heads off for you. Or, when your muscles are spasming right before the semis of absolute, they might even massage your forearms for you.

You can use this picture to guilt your teammates into massaging your forearms. You have my permission.

Why do I mention this? Because I believe jiu-jitsu competitions give you the best of both worlds. You get both the individual competition experience and the team experience. If you stink up the joint, like I did at the Pans in 2012, you still get to root for your friends and be thrilled when they medal.

If you do well, all the better. You stepped on the mat by yourself and did something most people will never do. Then you stepped off the mat and got mobbed with support by the people you train, sweat and occasionally bleed with.

Your team might not do this, exactly. But still.

It’s a special experience. And you can have it! So set a goal for when you’re going to compete, train hard for it, and remember: no matter what happens, you’ll have won by the end of the day.

December 12, 2013

A Few Great Solo BJJ Drills

Twice a week, I do 6 a.m. drilling. Most days we have between two and four people, but sometimes it’s just me and the cold gym.

We’ve all been there: you show up to open mat, put a gi on, get stretched out … and there’s no one to keep you company but the crickets. Or maybe you’re traveling and jonesing to train, but you can’t find a gym in the area. Or hey, maybe you’re just feeling antisocial.

Whatever the circumstances, sometimes you want to improve your jiu-jitsu but can’t find another grappler around to work with. You don’t want to waste that free time, do you? Of course you don’t, especially if you got up at 5:30 just to carve out a training session.

Some people collect baseball cards. Others collect autographs. I collect good drills, and I’ve been lucky enough to pick up some great solo training tips from terrific black belts. Here are some solo grappling drills to do on your own. These have been my salvation more than once when I’m by myself at 6 a.m.

Breakfall to Stand in Base Flow Drill: This drill combines two of the most fundamental Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu techniques. First, from a standing position, do a back breakfall. Then, come up to one side, with one foot posted in front of you and the opposite-side hand posted behind you. Rotate your hips toward the mat and stand up in a nice base.

Check out how to properly stand up in base here, just 12 seconds in:

Since you’re back to a standing position, you might as well breakfall again and stand up in base on the opposite side, posting your other hand and other foot. This is a nice drill to warm up with, since you can get a good flow going, and it works two critical fundamental movements.

Hip Extension to Combat Base Drill: Roy Marsh, head instructor at Sandhills BJJ and a black belt under Royce Gracie, showed me this one. From your back, roll up onto your shoulder and extend your hips in the air. One leg should be straight and the other leg bent in front of you. From there, roll up to a combat base position (one knee up, one leg folded, elbows in tight). Roll back and repeat on the other side.

Be sure to step a fair distance with your extended leg. This drill can double as a good stretch, too: once you’ve come up to the combat base position you can play around with that.

Bridge to Turtle Drill: From your back with your feet in tight, bridge over one shoulder. As you thread our bottom leg back under to come to the turtle, sweep the mat with your mat-side hand to simulate clearing the hooks from someone trying to attack your back. Finish in a tight turtle position.

You can either sit to your back or roll over your shoulder to return to the original position. Then bridge to the other side. Again, this can be a nice flow.

Leg Circles From the Guard: Some people call this drill “the eggbeater.” You see a lot of guys doing this one to warm up for tournaments, and with good reason: it’s a core movement in the open guard. From your back, you rotate your legs in a circular motion like a windmill or an eggbeater. You can do this in each direction.

I mention it mainly to add one detail: a lot people do this drill with their back flat on the mat instead of raising the hips off the mat and moving from side to side during the leg circles. This is an important part of getting the movement down.

Hip Bump Sweep Drill: For many of us, the hip bump is the first sweep we learn in jiu-jitsu. That’s because it works. Another good solo drill involves putting something in front of you to mimic your opponent – I use a hanging heavy bag, but you can use something as simple as your coiled belt – and practicing the hip bump motion. From the guard position, roll up smoothly onto your shoulder, elbow and then hand, plant your foot and simulate a hip bump. Again, be sure to work both sides.

Start slowly to be certain you hit each step of the technique, and gradually work your way up to a solid pace. Royce Gracie black belt Jake Whitfield showed me this one, and told me that just doing this a few minutes each day would improve my hip bumps – and all the techniques that a good hip bump sets up. He was right.

The hip bump starts at 1:03 in this video:

OTHER RESOURCES

I think it helps to pick up a variety of drills from lots of different sources. That way, you have a menu of options for when you’re by yourself and when you’re with a group or a partner. Having many drills to choose from means you always have something to work and no excuse for getting bored.

To that end, if you’re looking for more, the mighty Jason Scully has a great video of 33 solo drills.

Scully also put together 30 animal-themed movement drills as well.

Next post along these lines: some great partner and group drills.

October 25, 2013

Be Prepared. Period.

Jake Whitfield, the black belt who heads Triangle Jiu-Jitsu Goldsboro, has an important new article out on the website. You should go read the whole thing, then come on back. I’ll wait.

… OK, this is the Internet, so no one reads anything in its entirety. You should, but if you choose not to, let me hit you with a quick summary: preparation is key to success, whether you’re talking about a jiu-jitsu class, a jiu-jitsu tournament, an MMA fight, or life.

One of the most overlooked areas of preparation is the simple preparation for each day of training. Everyone has had classes where they felt like they were on top of the world. Every sweep works perfectly and it seems like your training partner’s guard doesn’t even exist. Everyone has also had classes where it seems like everything you do is wrong. Often the difference between the two is the preparation you put in before class. Did you drink enough water throughout the day to give you sufficient hydration to make it through class? Or did you just chug a bottle of water in the car immediately beforehand? Or even worse, did you forget to drink water altogether before class? Did you eat healthy meals throughout the day and give your body time to properly digest your last meal before training? Did you provide yourself with adequate time to get to class on time without being rushed? Did you remember everything you needed for class? Did you properly warm up before class or did you rush in during the warm up drills, throw your gi on, and run out onto the mat while still tying your belt just in time to catch the first technique being taught? Every single one of these things has an impact every single time that you train.

This is exactly right. I’d like to add two things (a principle and a story) from my own experience.

First, these guidelines only increase in importance as we age. I’ll turn 40 next year. I’ve always been a prompt person: if I’m not someplace 15 minutes early, I feel like I’m late. But since immersing myself in jiu-jitsu I’ve tried to be as early as I can. This is partially because of something Jake talks about in the excerpt about: it’s important to warm up correctly to avoid injury, and getting some movements going early helps you have a productive, gradual warmup. This is more important for my body than it might be for a 19-year-old who is made of rubber (although it’s important for him/her, too!).

I also love being around to talk with the instructor and the other students before class. You never know when you’re going to hear a detail that you missed before, or something that helps you understand a position in a new way — or just some great stories from the old days. Like any practice, the more time you spend observing and preparing, the more likely you are to learn.

Preparation includes strategy formation of all types.

The story I’d like to tell involves me learning a lesson the hard way. These days it’s fairly rare when I drink more than the occasional beer. But when I first got my blue belt, my instructor started having me roll with all the new people. I think this is half because he knows I’m capable of being calm and gentle with the first-timers, but also that I’m capable of showing that jiu-jitsu works — and if a huge, beastly athletic dude gets dominated by a tiny, nerdy 39-year-old, they are usually forced to conclude that there is something to the art.

On this particular night before class, I choose to have three beers. Because my tolerance is low, this results in some dehydration and a mild hangover. Hey, that’s the price you pay. One of the benefits of jiu-jitsu training is that it’s a positive feedback loop: you train a lot and you drink less, because you want to be prepared for training. But sometimes you want to have a beer, and one turns into three.

Of course, I’m not going to skip class over it. Of course, this is the day that a huge former college wrestler comes in. Of course, I have too much pride to tell my instructor “um, Seth, I got a little awash in liquid amusement last night.” Of course, I’ve got to roll with the guy during the night’s first spar.

Usually, my philosophy in rolling with brand new people is not to hunt for submissions at all, but merely to take what is given when they make fundamental errors. That way, you can show them both the philosophy and effectiveness of jiu-jitsu (besides, every new person makes fundamental errors). Now that I’ve been training for a few years I also have a better sense for who is going to approach the roll in an open-minded, learning way and who is going to try to kill you.

This guy was clearly in the “going to try to kill you” camp.

He jumps onto me, and I collar choke him in about 5 seconds. He desperately does not want to tap, but does so after his face turns purple and he nearly passes out. Usually, this is enough to give even the most kill-faced person some pause. But this never seems to happen when you’re hung over. He just keeps coming. And about halfway through the roll, I really start feeling tired.

Now, at no point during the round was I in any trouble. He was throwing me around, though, and this is normally the type of behavior that I would correct as gently as possible with certain tactics. But I wasn’t at my best, and I didn’t have the control I needed to have, and hence couldn’t employ those tactics.

This made the round unpleasant for me. Having a college wrestler on top of you when you’re hung over is not an experience I recommend. But that’s not the worst part. I just wasn’t apply to apply techniques in the way I had become accustomed. At one point I just let an armbar go because I was afraid he flat-out wouldn’t tap until I broke his arm. Without the precision to apply the technique properly, I was forced to either let go or risk injuring a new person. This isn’t a choice I should have been forced into, but my lack of preparation made it so.

That happened well over a year ago, and it’s still one of my most vivid memories of jiu-jitsu — and one of the blessedly few moments I’m really embarrassed of. I didn’t prepare myself properly, because it was just another night of class. Because I didn’t prepare myself properly, I wasn’t able to represent myself of the art in the way that I would have liked to. I also am a firm believer that the way you represent yourself reflects on your teammates and instructor, so I’m always disappointed in myself when I don’t do things the right way.

I take pride in being able to show people both the benefits of jiu-jitsu and my love for it. the chance to roll with a new person is major opportunity to make that happen, and it’s one I don’t want to miss again.

It’s important to be prepared for many reasons. One is that you never know when a moment like that is going to happen, and you want to be able to put your best self out there when the occasion demands it.

September 30, 2013

Thank The Monsters

I wanted to quit. I’m not going to lie about it.

It was last summer, and the teeth of the North Carolina heat had sunk deeply into our training space. The humidity made it tough to get air into your body under normal circumstances, and these weren’t normal circumstances. A black belt — my instructor’s instructor — was mounted on top of me at the end of a session.

The pressure was suffocating. I couldn’t get space. Sweat had crept into every fiber of my heavy gi, and I was starting to get that dreaded claustrophobic feeling where all you want to do is something, anything that will get him off of you. You know you need to hide your arms and protect your collars, but your lower brain functions are screaming at you to buck wildly and push at his chest. Worse, in the back of your mind there’s always that little voice reminding you that you can tap, even though tapping to pressure isn’t allowed.

I managed to shut these voices up until the round ended. I don’t know how long it took. My only answer to that question is “too long.”

Jiu-jitsu is fun. This was misery. But I thanked him for it afterward, and I thank him for it now.

Why? Because training hard feels bad, but is good for you.

My instructor, mounted on me, in the longest minute of my BJJ life. I don’t have a picture from the incident in the first section, thankfully.

This comes to mind because of my last match in the absolute division at the Pans last week. I lost in semifinals to the eventual silver medalist, a very tough guy with a suffocating top game. He took me down straight into half guard. I found myself in a deep crossface and facing considerable downward pressure from a strong guy with good technique. He had my head turned the wrong way, making it difficult for me to bridge, and used the position to set up a tight Darce choke.

Why do I mention this? At no point did the thought of giving up cross my mind. I wasn’t thinking about anything other than getting back to a decent guard position where I could defend myself and, from there, get some attacks going.

That’s not because I wasn’t suffering: it was because I was used to suffering. Because I had trained for it. Powerful and skilled as my opponent was, he wasn’t a black belt coming after me at the end of a long, hard training day.

Don't get me wrong, this is still very uncomfortable. — Don’t get me wrong, I was still very uncomfortable at several junctures during this match.

I still lost the match by points, but I survived and escaped the position. I didn’t get submitted: I recovered guard and got some attacks going. And I have no doubt that my performance was better than it would have been had I not experienced that type of hard training I just described. Training intensely prepares you for these terrible spots.

When I say “training hard,” I don’t just mean “going all-out, until exhaustion” or even “putting yourself in awful positions.” I mean challenging yourself by training with people who are appreciably better than you. Jake Whitfield, the black belt I wrote about above, can submit me more or less whenever he wants and however he wants. When he was smashing me under mount, he was teaching me to endure a terrible spot. That’s a vital lesson.

This not as fun as it looks. But I'm glad I did it. — Stuff like this is not as fun as it looks. But I’m glad I did it.

There are other lessons to be learned, though, from training with high-level guys. I just finished the Pans camp at BJJ Conquest, where I was fortunate to train with some fantastic black belts. No one there was trying to smash me in the traditional sense: guys like Kail Bosque or Super Dave Zennario don’t have to. They were able to utterly dismantle me using pure technique with minimal effort. Just getting the chance to observe jiu-jitsu players on the level of Samir Chantre, Quiexinho and Vicente Junior helped me learn. Having them effortlessly pass my guard or sweep me — essentially drilling positions on me while I was rolling — was inspiring.

These scenarios presented a different type of challenge than the situation I described earlier. Instead of just trying to survive a spot, I had to try to figure out how these guys were breaking me down so easily, and how I needed to evolve to improve. That forces you to improve your technical understanding. Whenever an upper belt asks me to roll, in my view they’re doing me a huge favor — especially a black belt. Yes, I’m going to get owned. No, I can’t prevent that. Yes, it helps me grow.

I was one of least skilled people at the camp, which helped me learn a lot.

The camp was a special opportunity, of course. But there are opportunities to train hard every day, though, wherever you are. Training with people of different skill sets and body types, people who give you problems in different spots for different reasons, can present its own challenges. There are several white belts who were good wrestlers that can give me problems when they get on top: if I don’t let them get on top, how can I prepare for competitions where I will face guys with similar skills?

I just want to say one more thing. It’s easy to say this and hard to do it. It sucks to get beaten up. It can be demoralizing to “lose” constantly, even in training. That’s one reason it’s so important to control your ego and gain perspective.

The guy that regularly crushes other white belts easily in training probably feels great at the end of the night, like he could take on the world. The guy who just got eviscerated over and over and saw his partners smiling and not sweating may not even feel like he deserves the belt he’s wearing in the moment.

But who is learning more? If this pattern of training is repeated, who will be better in the long run?

Back to the story I started this with: after the round ended, I was exhausted and relieved. Jake turned to me and said this: “The fact that you didn’t freak out down there is a credit to the monsters that you train with.”

That’s the fundamental truth of it. Our teammates and training partners help us succeed, even if — especially if — they are dominating us. It feels great to win all the time, to be the best guy in the room with regularity. It’s just harder to improve if that’s all you do.

Train with monsters. Thank those monsters. Even when they’re compressing your chest, they might just be the best friends you’ll have in jiu-jitsu.

Tag: training