Work with what you have

"Why?  My fat friend asks me why?  He sits there on his world-class ass and has the nerve to ask me why?  Yeste.  Come to me sometime with a challenge.  Once, just once, ride up and say 'Domingo, I need a sword for an eighty-year old man to fight a duel,' and I would embrace you and cry 'Yes!'  Because to make a sword for an eighty-year old man to survive a duel, that would be something.  Because the sword would have to be strong enough to win, yet light enough not to tire his weary arm.  I would have to use my all to perhaps find an unknown metal, strong but very light, or devise a different formula for a known one, mix some bronze with some iron and some air in a way ignored for a thousand years.  I would kiss your smelly feet for an opportunity like that, fat Yeste."

-The Princess Bride

Are you fit enough to learn martial arts?  I've talked to many people who have an interest, but something is holding them back.  They're concerned that they're too out of shape, or not flexible enough, or have an old injury that prevents them from moving the way they think they should be able to.  Maybe they think they're too old.  Maybe they think that they'll be able to start in a few months, when they've solved their problems and everything has magically come together.  In my experience, that day almost never comes around.

Sometimes, a new student will come into our school who has everything going for them.  This person will be strong, limber, and have a good visual, audio and kinesthetic memory.  It's fun to teach these people.  But it's the former group that really gets me engaged, not the latter.

Because the martial arts are not about mastering the platonic ideal of the perfect technique.  They're about learning to use what you have, in the best way that you possibly can.  Maybe a knee injury prevents you from kicking well with one leg.  Great, lets spend our time focusing on your other leg.  (Bill Wallace did fairly well with this strategy).  Or maybe you're too short to effectively kick your longer-limbed opponents.  Let's focus on bridging the gap and fighting in close where your opponent can't kick at all.  Or you have a shoulder injury that prevents your arm from having a full range of motion.  OK, lets not try to force your arm past that limit and risk exacerbating your injury.  Instead, lets see what you can do with that arm inside your comfortable range of motion.

We have a lot of different techniques at our school, and while we want everybody to learn all of them, we are mindful that not every one will work well for every student.  We ask students to learn each technique well enough to demonstrate it (and eventually teach it), but then to figure out which of those techniques really work for them, and focus on maximizing their effectiveness with those techniques.

Not everybody has it in them to be a championship MMA fighter.  You need a unique combination of physique, talent and drive to achieve that goal.  But anybody can learn to maximize their own resources and talents, both on and off the mat.  In my mind, that's what the martial arts are really all about.

(Btw - you can stop wracking your brains now.  You're not recognizing the quote above because its from the book, not the movie.)

Getting Older in the Martial Arts

It's been interesting to watch my perceptions of martial arts change over the years.  I used to read Gichin Funakoshi's autobiography with fascination, awed by somebody who would stand on the roof of his hut in a typhoon to strengthen his legs.  I loved watching demonstrations of huge, muscular guys smashing a pile of concrete bricks.  And I never tired of watching Master Killer (the very poor English renaming of the movie "The Thirty-Sixth Chamber") as the hero lifted a five pound weight at the end of a ten foot poll to strike a gong, using this unorthodox technique to develop invincible wrists.  Come to think of it, I still don't tire of watching it!

But then, something happened that would change my outlook forever.  Something I didn't expect, and could never have foreseen.

I turned thirty.

If you're under thirty, here's a secret that perhaps nobody has ever told you.  Your body starts needing maintenance after thirty.  All of a sudden, you can't eat whatever you want, whenever you want, with no consequences.  A workout you wouldn't have even thought about before suddenly makes its mark in ways you never expected.  And despite your best efforts, some of your physical abilities start to plateau.  Oh, sure, you can still exercise and get stronger.  You might even be able to stretch and increase your flexibility.  But it's much harder than before.  And it gets a little harder every year.

So I started to notice that my progress in sparring was slowing down.  For every two steps forward I made in skill, I took a step back in diminished abilities.  I wasn't getting worse.  I just wasn't getting better the way I wanted to.  I began to suspect that I'd never be the guy striking the gong with the ten foot hammer.  I was frustrated.

But if there's one thing I learned in the martial arts, it's to be fluid in my approach.  If one technique doesn't work on an opponent, try something different.  So I changed things up, focused on different areas.  Fewer hard blocks and high kicks, more blends and joint locks.  Less focus on movements that depend on power enhanced by technique, and more focus on those that depend on technique enhanced by power.

I still engage in intense workouts, and sometimes come home bruised and sore.  There's things I know now that I'll never be able to do, and I have limits I need to acknowledge and respect.  But I find there's a lot of flexibility within my style to find my own specialty, and adjust it to my own capabilities.  Which is a good thing, because I fully intend to still be practicing when I'm 80.  I may no longer be taking the same falls I'm taking now, but I'll be on the mat, refining my skills, and passing on what I know.

And probably still enjoying watching Master Killer, too.