Life lessons from the dojo
First karate class today. I watched the yellow-and-orange class, and then the green-and-blue class, and then I participated in two white-belt classes, one for super-beginner white belts and one for "advanced" white belts. All told, I enjoyed myself. I didn't think I'd get much of a workout, but I did. My legs hate me now, but I knew that was going to happen. Will I continue at this dojo? I'll think it over tonight, but probably yes.
Back when I was doing karate at my last dojo, I started an occasional series called "life lessons from the dojo," wherein I tried to draw lessons from stuff that happened to me during my karate classes. I think I'll continue that series now, and you're welcome to read it or not, as you desire.
Life lesson #1: "Advanced" is a relative term
As many of you know, I've done karate before. I have a brown belt in Kyukushin karate and a blue belt in Chito Ryu karate. So even though I showed up wearing a white belt, it would be a stretch to say that I was a beginner. And the sensei knew it, since I'd spoken to her beforehand. I was placed with the advanced white belts for the course, corrected seldom, and even asked to lead the warm-up for the advanced white belt class. (Because the sensei needed to take a 5-minute break and I was the oldest and most advanced student in the class.) Frankly, there was nothing in the yellow-orange class that would have given me any trouble either.
I'm a beginner in this dojo and with this style, but not to martial arts. "Beginner" is a relative term, and so is "advanced."
Life lesson #2: It's the little things that trip you up
Following directly from life lesson #1, the problem with being an advanced beginner is that you have all sorts of habits that you carry over from your previous experience. It's rarely the big things; a punch is a punch pretty much anywhere you go. But little things will trip you up. In my old dojo, the hips were always straight when you were in a particular low stance. Here, they're straight when you're punching and at 45 degrees when you're blocking. In both my old dojos, when you were exerting yourself, you did a loud exhale as you pushed yourself. Here, they don't do that. One of the katas that I do with three kiais (shouts) only has two in this style. It's little things that trip you up, because they're so instinctive that you don't think about them. Most likely, I'll still be working on fixing my previous habits long after I've learned the new katas.
Life lesson #3: Sometimes the mind is strong but the body is weak
There was nothing I did in the two hours of training that was conceptually difficult, at least not for someone with my level of experience. Mentally, I understood and could do everything that the sensei asked. Alas, my body is a different story. I haven't trained regularly in two years, and my legs are not used to it. Holding my stance low or keeping my balance, things that I used to take for granted, were very difficult for me to do today.
The point was driven home even more forcefully towards the end of the second hour. We were doing a simple kata, one that I've known since I was 11 years old. But I'd been training hard, it was hot, and I probably hadn't drunk enough water. My vision started blurring, then going dark. My ears were ringing. I was just on the edge of getting dizzy. There was a time when I would push through and keep trying to do the kata. I'm no longer that stupid young. I sat down and took care of myself until it passed.
In my mind, I could do everything. In my body, it's going to take a little while for me to get back into shape.
Life lesson #4: With age and experience comes privilege
At one point, my toe was a little sore. I looked down to see that I'd apparently cut it -- I'm assuming on someone else's toenail. I bowed to my partner and the sensei, went over to my bag, and dealt with it. (I had bandaids, toilet paper, and a water bottle in my purse.) If I had been one of the 10-year-old white belts, I probably wouldn't have even dared to leave my place in line. As an adult, and an experienced one, I took the initiative to fix the problem, and the sensei let me. I knew what I was doing, and the person in charge of the class acknowledged it. Sometimes being an experienced grown-up has its advantages.
Life lesson #5: Good pain is still pain
You know the pain you get when your muscles are repairing themselves and making themselves stronger? The pain that comes after you've done a good workout? The pain that some athletes call "the good pain"? I've got it in spades. Within an hour of the class finishing, my legs were already screaming at me. I knew it was coming. I know it's going to get worse before it gets better. As they say, this isn't my first time at the rodeo. But that doesn't make it any more enjoyable. The thought of walking up stairs makes me cringe, and I have to lower myself gingerly onto my chair. It'll pass, I know. But for the moment, it's truly obnoxious. Oh, delayed onset muscle soreness, how I didn't miss you.
That's it for now. I'm sure I'll have more the next time I return to the dojo. Until then, I shall nurse my sore, unhappy legs and not take too many stairs.
Back when I was doing karate at my last dojo, I started an occasional series called "life lessons from the dojo," wherein I tried to draw lessons from stuff that happened to me during my karate classes. I think I'll continue that series now, and you're welcome to read it or not, as you desire.
Life lesson #1: "Advanced" is a relative term
As many of you know, I've done karate before. I have a brown belt in Kyukushin karate and a blue belt in Chito Ryu karate. So even though I showed up wearing a white belt, it would be a stretch to say that I was a beginner. And the sensei knew it, since I'd spoken to her beforehand. I was placed with the advanced white belts for the course, corrected seldom, and even asked to lead the warm-up for the advanced white belt class. (Because the sensei needed to take a 5-minute break and I was the oldest and most advanced student in the class.) Frankly, there was nothing in the yellow-orange class that would have given me any trouble either.
I'm a beginner in this dojo and with this style, but not to martial arts. "Beginner" is a relative term, and so is "advanced."
Life lesson #2: It's the little things that trip you up
Following directly from life lesson #1, the problem with being an advanced beginner is that you have all sorts of habits that you carry over from your previous experience. It's rarely the big things; a punch is a punch pretty much anywhere you go. But little things will trip you up. In my old dojo, the hips were always straight when you were in a particular low stance. Here, they're straight when you're punching and at 45 degrees when you're blocking. In both my old dojos, when you were exerting yourself, you did a loud exhale as you pushed yourself. Here, they don't do that. One of the katas that I do with three kiais (shouts) only has two in this style. It's little things that trip you up, because they're so instinctive that you don't think about them. Most likely, I'll still be working on fixing my previous habits long after I've learned the new katas.
Life lesson #3: Sometimes the mind is strong but the body is weak
There was nothing I did in the two hours of training that was conceptually difficult, at least not for someone with my level of experience. Mentally, I understood and could do everything that the sensei asked. Alas, my body is a different story. I haven't trained regularly in two years, and my legs are not used to it. Holding my stance low or keeping my balance, things that I used to take for granted, were very difficult for me to do today.
The point was driven home even more forcefully towards the end of the second hour. We were doing a simple kata, one that I've known since I was 11 years old. But I'd been training hard, it was hot, and I probably hadn't drunk enough water. My vision started blurring, then going dark. My ears were ringing. I was just on the edge of getting dizzy. There was a time when I would push through and keep trying to do the kata. I'm no longer that stupid young. I sat down and took care of myself until it passed.
In my mind, I could do everything. In my body, it's going to take a little while for me to get back into shape.
Life lesson #4: With age and experience comes privilege
At one point, my toe was a little sore. I looked down to see that I'd apparently cut it -- I'm assuming on someone else's toenail. I bowed to my partner and the sensei, went over to my bag, and dealt with it. (I had bandaids, toilet paper, and a water bottle in my purse.) If I had been one of the 10-year-old white belts, I probably wouldn't have even dared to leave my place in line. As an adult, and an experienced one, I took the initiative to fix the problem, and the sensei let me. I knew what I was doing, and the person in charge of the class acknowledged it. Sometimes being an experienced grown-up has its advantages.
Life lesson #5: Good pain is still pain
You know the pain you get when your muscles are repairing themselves and making themselves stronger? The pain that comes after you've done a good workout? The pain that some athletes call "the good pain"? I've got it in spades. Within an hour of the class finishing, my legs were already screaming at me. I knew it was coming. I know it's going to get worse before it gets better. As they say, this isn't my first time at the rodeo. But that doesn't make it any more enjoyable. The thought of walking up stairs makes me cringe, and I have to lower myself gingerly onto my chair. It'll pass, I know. But for the moment, it's truly obnoxious. Oh, delayed onset muscle soreness, how I didn't miss you.
That's it for now. I'm sure I'll have more the next time I return to the dojo. Until then, I shall nurse my sore, unhappy legs and not take too many stairs.