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Abstract

class”. That only meant that there were only women in the class; not that the skills were any different from the men. The instructor had won several prominent tournaments and could kill you, and me, quickly. So fast that your brain would only register the thought, “Why is she wearing pajam…” before it was curtains.The experience stuck with my wife and, in short order, she had convinced me to join her for a regular class.There I was, as previously alluded to, standing around in borrowed pajamas, and facing a hearty roster of mean looking people who were very interested in incapacitating other people. Some lifted weights as we awaited the start of class.Intentionally screwing with gravity in a superfluous manner seemed silly. Yeah, you picked that up. But, then you put it right back down. WHAT IS THE POINT?! To be honest though, most of me was only there to appease my wife, and I was looking to poke holes in anything and everything:“I tried it. It sucked. You go nuts, but I’m out. Go lift something for no apparent reason.”The First ClassAfter a series of sensible warm-up exercises that left my lungs trying to find a more favorable host body, we settled in for the first lesson of the night. Our instructor, a black belt who has accomplished much in the BJJ world, gathered the class around him, and showed us how to use part of the gi to choke an opponent into submission. He was professional and precise, and everything he taught us bore results — you could, in fact, use the collar of a gi to severely restrict blood flow to someone else’s brain. But, on first blush it seemed stupid:“How about I take off this stupid ass jacket and then see what ya got.”But…it wasn’t stupid. For my wife and I it was exactly what we needed. It was violent and physical — but not too violent or too physical — a game of chess that involved positioning our bodies to win. Our gym had no punching or kicking in our classes, though mistakes were made and awkward explanations had, at times, to be made at the office.But the Nature of the People…The other gym members weren’t mean, even in a violent sport. They never tried to kill me. It is a true statement that they could sever my limbs, make hilarious memes by putting them in amusing positions, and

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post the images on Instagram. By the time I had my own pajamas most everyone in the gym was trying to help me. The higher belts — BJJ goes white, blue, purple, brown, black — always went out of their way to teach me.Some classes featured a period of rolling. Rolling is “free play”, where you compete with another classmate and try to learn. There are many times when you find yourself in the awkward Groin-in-Face position. Or the uncomfortable Knee-in-Crotch pose. Sometimes, it sucks. You have to tap out several times over the course of a five minute session (especially if groins and/or crotches are involved). But……sometimes it is a fun experience, like when someone with more experience/skill just tries to help. My fondest memories are rolling with a bald dude who easily weighed 100 pounds more than me. I had no chance of winning, or even of getting into a favorable position. He just took my hopeless situation and used the chance to teach, and have fun.Inconsequential FailureUltimately, circumstance forced us to quit — but not after I had lost 30 pounds (I could even see a bicep!). The kids had their own after-school activities, and it was increasingly tough to get to class and improve.Jiu-jitsu is an art that requires hours, weeks, months and years to refine. If you can’t be in the gym with any regularity, it is simply a fool’s errand to continue on. Looking back, the takeaway was worth every cent/minute spent at our gym. Sometimes, it is fun to fail. In jiu-jitsu, it is clear when you have failed:“This situation regarding the structural integrity of my arm is getting dire. I should try to find a solution to this mess…”But that point of failure is only the end of just one episode.At work, failure might mean a lost promotion, an undesirable assignment, or having to — even though there is a fully funded janitorial staff — clean the bathrooms.Failure in jiu-jitsu is nothing more than a nudge in a direction for improvement. I rather like that thought, and I hope to get back into it over the coming years. Even though I will be older, and my body will ache more, carving out a space in life where failing is actually a learning device — even if I just learn how to wrestle in pajamas a little better — has an appealing sense to it.</article></body>

I Wore Pajamas to Get in Shape

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Can Be For You

As I lumber through middle age, physical fitness creeps up my list of priorities. “Not dying from heart disease” now ranks — slightly — higher than “clubbing someone with a large fish”. So I found myself trying a martial art — Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ) — for the first time ever.

One of the more tired descriptions of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ) is that it is nothing more than “wrestling in pajamas”. I suppose this isn’t a terribly inaccurate description from afar — gis are quite pajama-ish, and the whole ordeal is rather akin to wrestling.

Nonetheless, one day a few years ago I found myself in a gym, wearing well-worn loaner ninja pajamas and ready for my first class. I’d decided to trot down this road due to my wife. She’d been watching mixed martial arts for years — predating our time together — and had, for years, been keen to try out some sort of activity (aside from cooking) that involved degrading the physical abilities of others to the point that they quit the fight, or had been rendered unable to stand up on their own.

I Get Involved!

I was not, admittedly, a stranger to such things. When my wife was pregnant with our first child, I had flirted with boxing. The boxing gym was cognizant that some people — old people like me — weren’t trying to win any world championships. The trainers kept chuckle-heads like myself safe from any real head trauma while, at the same time, giving us a solid workout, and teaching us legit skills. Still, the routine wore on me and I did not renew my membership.

So, fast forward a few years. My wife was ready to try a martial art. Our kids had reached an age that allowed for us parents to actually engage in extra-curricular activities. I was not interested in getting hit by strangers, so boxing was out. My wife wasn’t into the pomp and circumstance that came with karate. BJJ seemed like a good solution — no punching, but real technique and structure. What a fit!

A Weird Mother’s Day Gift

I signed my wife up for a class as a Mother’s Day gift. It was a “women’s only class”. That only meant that there were only women in the class; not that the skills were any different from the men. The instructor had won several prominent tournaments and could kill you, and me, quickly. So fast that your brain would only register the thought, “Why is she wearing pajam…” before it was curtains.

The experience stuck with my wife and, in short order, she had convinced me to join her for a regular class.

There I was, as previously alluded to, standing around in borrowed pajamas, and facing a hearty roster of mean looking people who were very interested in incapacitating other people. Some lifted weights as we awaited the start of class.

Intentionally screwing with gravity in a superfluous manner seemed silly. Yeah, you picked that up. But, then you put it right back down. WHAT IS THE POINT?! To be honest though, most of me was only there to appease my wife, and I was looking to poke holes in anything and everything:

“I tried it. It sucked. You go nuts, but I’m out. Go lift something for no apparent reason.”

The First Class

After a series of sensible warm-up exercises that left my lungs trying to find a more favorable host body, we settled in for the first lesson of the night. Our instructor, a black belt who has accomplished much in the BJJ world, gathered the class around him, and showed us how to use part of the gi to choke an opponent into submission. He was professional and precise, and everything he taught us bore results — you could, in fact, use the collar of a gi to severely restrict blood flow to someone else’s brain. But, on first blush it seemed stupid:

“How about I take off this stupid ass jacket and then see what ya got.”

But…it wasn’t stupid. For my wife and I it was exactly what we needed. It was violent and physical — but not too violent or too physical — a game of chess that involved positioning our bodies to win. Our gym had no punching or kicking in our classes, though mistakes were made and awkward explanations had, at times, to be made at the office.

But the Nature of the People…

The other gym members weren’t mean, even in a violent sport. They never tried to kill me. It is a true statement that they could sever my limbs, make hilarious memes by putting them in amusing positions, and post the images on Instagram. By the time I had my own pajamas most everyone in the gym was trying to help me. The higher belts — BJJ goes white, blue, purple, brown, black — always went out of their way to teach me.

Some classes featured a period of rolling. Rolling is “free play”, where you compete with another classmate and try to learn. There are many times when you find yourself in the awkward Groin-in-Face position. Or the uncomfortable Knee-in-Crotch pose. Sometimes, it sucks. You have to tap out several times over the course of a five minute session (especially if groins and/or crotches are involved). But…

…sometimes it is a fun experience, like when someone with more experience/skill just tries to help. My fondest memories are rolling with a bald dude who easily weighed 100 pounds more than me. I had no chance of winning, or even of getting into a favorable position. He just took my hopeless situation and used the chance to teach, and have fun.

Inconsequential Failure

Ultimately, circumstance forced us to quit — but not after I had lost 30 pounds (I could even see a bicep!). The kids had their own after-school activities, and it was increasingly tough to get to class and improve.

Jiu-jitsu is an art that requires hours, weeks, months and years to refine. If you can’t be in the gym with any regularity, it is simply a fool’s errand to continue on. Looking back, the takeaway was worth every cent/minute spent at our gym. Sometimes, it is fun to fail. In jiu-jitsu, it is clear when you have failed:

“This situation regarding the structural integrity of my arm is getting dire. I should try to find a solution to this mess…”

But that point of failure is only the end of just one episode.

At work, failure might mean a lost promotion, an undesirable assignment, or having to — even though there is a fully funded janitorial staff — clean the bathrooms.

Failure in jiu-jitsu is nothing more than a nudge in a direction for improvement. I rather like that thought, and I hope to get back into it over the coming years. Even though I will be older, and my body will ache more, carving out a space in life where failing is actually a learning device — even if I just learn how to wrestle in pajamas a little better — has an appealing sense to it.