My Life as a White Belt - Open

Open:

                I feel it slipping away.  There is an opportunity that I am about to miss if I don’t take this risk.  My life may be no better or worse in the long run if I don’t pursue it, but every fiber of my being is telling me that I need to be persistent; if I stay inside my comfortable little box then I might miss out on something great. 

                Competing in the adult division is something that I’ve been avoiding.  I’m 37 years old and there are times when my body reminds me of that in a loud and violent way.  So far I have held my own and at times excelled in my own age division, but I feel that if I don’t at least try to push myself then I will always be asking myself ‘What if?’  That is a question I want to avoid from here on out.  The Oregon Open Adult Lightweight division just picked up a crusty, yet game, ‘older’ gentleman.  Oh yeah, I dropped another five pounds to boot.  I’m starting to think my natural body weight is somewhere between 155 and 160.

                Liz has thrown up a roadblock to my efforts towards pursuing a relationship.  It is painfully obvious that she feels drawn to me in the same way that I am pulled towards her, but there is something she isn’t telling me; maybe she feels like she can’t tell me.  I resolve to give it at least one more try.  The fact is, I’ve never met anyone like her.  She inspires and motivates me.  Just by being herself. 

                It has been less than a week since Nationals, but physically I am feeling on top of my game.  The Open is not just the first time that I’ll be competing in the adult division, but also the first time that my team will be competing as Ribeiro-Lovato NW.  This is significant because it represents many of the local gyms that would normally compete separately coming together as an association.  I find it personally exciting because it makes it that much easier to network and get to know more people.  The guys from Seaside and Salem are a great crew and add a lot to the already fantastic Five Rings flavor.  We have a sea of yellow and black in the stands thanks to the new T-shirts we’re all sporting.

                This is new territory for me.  It has never been a habit of mine to persist once rejected.  I always felt that it came down to respect for the other person’s wishes.  This scenario is playing out differently; I think mostly because I am a different person.  I recognize several things that are as clear to me as the moon on a cloudless winter’s night:  A)  I am already infatuated to the n^th degree, B) If I just let things drop then the most likely outcome is that we both continue on our merry way, and C) That spark between us burns in my dreams.  I ask her to talk with me and to my surprise I lay everything in my heart out honestly.  She is taken aback and needs time to think.

                I have three matches today.  They all end up looking and feeling about the same.  It’s not that I perform poorly.  I end up taking home bronze by winning the first two matches.  The difficulty I have is that my game seems somewhat unimaginative and ineffective today.  My sweeps get me the points I need to win, but I have an incredibly hard time passing guard and maintaining cross sides.  In the final match, my penchant for leaving my arms hanging away from my body gets me caught in a triangle.  I was up 2 to 0 with very little time left on the clock.  Reminiscent of my finals match at Nationals.  Overall, I feel vindicated because I showed that I can compete with the ‘young bucks’ and do more than hold my own, but I also recognize that I have a lot to work on.  I can’t wait to get back to training!

                The message I am currently reading from Liz has set me on fire.  I am struggling with her admission of deception, yet excited beyond excitement by her willingness to give us a chance.  This exceptional being sees something in me that I have only just begun to see in myself and I am literally dancing at the prospects the future holds.  More reinforcement for persistent pursuit of what you want in life.  I don’t remember any of the classic romances starting with someone giving up!

My Life as a White Belt - Redemption

Redemption:

                Time is a funny thing.  A moment can seem to last an eternity.  A year can flash by in an instant.  The last twelve months are a blur to me, but there are flashpoints that I can remember so vividly that it feels like they continue to happen inside my brain. 

                The recent calibration of belts at the gym means that in the larger world of jiu jitsu I am a white belt with four stripes.  “On deck”, as Coach Tom and Coach Eric like to call it.  It means that the blues and purples will be ‘testing’ me over the next while to see if I’m ready to become a ‘citizen’.  I like that terminology and the message it carries.  White belts are like supplicants; they are applying to earn the knowledge that will allow them to survive and thrive in the jiu jitsu community.  Once the basic knowledge has been learned, the performance level shown, and the mat time committed then we become worthy of ‘citizenship’. 

                I remember a time when the mysticism of martial arts was a turnoff for me.  Now I understand more clearly that there has to be a certain amount of leeway for coaches to decide when someone is ready to move to the next level.  From what I can tell, jiu jitsu is a lot more clear cut than other martial arts where you honestly have no real idea why you’ve progressed from one level to the next or what the difference is between one belt and another.  Jiu jitsu requires you to perform against an opponent or with a partner on a regular basis.  It can’t be faked.  You aren’t swinging at air.  You have a live person struggling with you, sometimes as an obstacle to be conquered and other times as a stepping stone to reach a greater height.

                I found out that purple belt’s name, finally.  The one that I felt was out of line with me when we first met.  He’s a brown belt now and up until very recently I’d found just about every excuse I could imagine to avoid dealing with my negative feelings towards him.  His name is Nathan; a large, powerful man with an incredible amount of skill in the jiu jitsu game.  He’s approximately my age and has a number of medals under his belt from various competitions.  I happened to express some of my frustration to a mutual friend, Nick C.  I think he was legitimately confused by the animosity because he knew us both and thought we were both nice guys.  With hopes of clearing up the misunderstanding, he mentioned the issue to Nathan.

                As one might think, he had no idea that there was a problem at all.  We travel in different circles at the gym – him, mornings and me, evenings.  So our interaction since that first encounter was very limited.  One of those flashpoint moments was about to happen, though I was unaware of it at the time.

                Nathan approaches me at the gym and the first thought through my head is “Yep, Nick said something.”  He grips my hand firmly and introduces himself and tells me that he’s seen me a lot at the gym, validating my progress and effort along the way.  Looking me squarely in the eye, he asks me if he has given offense and I explain how I feel.  That’s something new.  In the past, I would have hemmed and hawed, withdrawn, or straight out lied.  It feels good to express to him that I thought he had acted somewhat elitist and at the very least had hurt my feelings at a time when it could have changed whether or not I continued at the gym. 

                Nathan’s response is something that I will never forget.  He apologized, first and foremost, for the misunderstanding.  It wasn’t his intent to make me feel that way.  In general, he says, he avoids rolling with white belts because they haven’t developed enough control to avoid injuring themselves or others.  I think back to my numerous injuries (ribs, hips, ankles, knees, elbows) and realize that they’ve all come from rolling with other white belts.  I’ve never been hurt by a higher belt.  He tells me that he’d like to roll with me more often because he’s seen my progress and can tell that my game has developed a lot.  I am flabbergasted.  This guy isn’t elitist.  He’s smart.  We talk about longevity in the sport and something he calls ‘flow rolling’.  No submissions, just reading feeds and moving with your partner trying to recognize opportunities. 

                I recognize this opportunity.  Personal growth has laid itself out right in front of me.  I take Nathan up on his offer to roll.  I have a blast, even though it is really obvious that he is light years ahead of me in the skill department.  That means so little in the big picture.  Every ‘loss’ is a learning experience.   I have definitely learned something important.  Judgment is best saved for when you’ve had the chance to read the whole book.  The cover doesn’t always show what’s inside.

My Life as a White Belt - Nationals (cont.)

Nationals: - (cont.)

                I do my very best to support my team.  Five Rings and the Ribeiro association have become a family beyond my family.  I get to see Coach Tom and Professor Saulo compete live for the first time and I am really excited to do so.  I admire both of these men to a great degree and strive to pattern my new self after their example in many ways.  It is an interesting role reversal to help my coach prepare for his matches.  The atmosphere is different than at the local tournaments that I’ve been to so far; there is intensity in the air that is almost tangible.  I sit with Robert and Jerico, surrounded by Ribeiro teammates from all along the West Coast.

                The day meanders along, spiked by exciting high-profile matches; Caio Terra and Michael Liera Jr. put on a clinic in their divisions.  The black belt divisions are supremely technical.  I realize that I’ve become a bit of a jiu jitsu geek as I analyze each match.  I watch as Coach Tom demonstrates a ton of technical skill and tenacity in his matches, only to fall to an opportunistic opponent who seems to have Coach’s number at tournaments.  Oddly, my esteem isn’t diminished in the slightest.  If anything, I find his grace and humility in defeat admirable and inspiring.  I know for a fact that he’s going to take this experience and use it as fuel for his next competition. 

                Saulo’s matches draw a ton of attention, as one might expect for a world champion.  He wins his divisions handily, demonstrating amazing technique and power along the way.  I am awed to see jiu jitsu at this level first hand.  There is simply no hesitation in the man.  This is the result of an unshakable confidence in his ability to find a way to win.  I vow to try to do the same in my matches.

                (…fast forward to the next day…)

                It’s Sunday.  Time for the whites and blues to show what they can do.  Yep, that means me.  I’m anxious, but confident that my coaches have prepared me well for success.  All I can do at this point is give my best effort.  My one concern is that due to my intense training (some folks might even say ‘over’ training) I’ve continued to lose weight.  This means that even though when I registered for this event I was near the top of the middleweight class, I am now much closer to the bottom; I currently weigh 171 pounds.  Ultimately, I remember that jiu jitsu is about technique and applied strength, not just how much you weigh.  I hear my division being called so I go prepare myself for the coming battles.

                My first match is against a guy named Troy from the Inland Empire.  Yeah, I have to admit that I did some internet research on my opponents once they posted the brackets online.  Not that it gave me any idea of who I am really up against, I found some comfort in making the effort if that makes any sense at all.  As I step out onto the mat I look over to the stands where my sons and brothers-in-law sit.  They made it!  I am really excited to show them what I’ve learned. 

My ears are ringing with Coach Tom’s advice: “Impose your will, Dan.  You know what you’ve trained.  Be aggressive and get into your game.”  Okay.  Let’s see how this goes.  We touch hands.  I slide into classic guard smoothly.  Pressure through the heel.  Post other heel on the bicep.  Adjust. Adjust.  Feel his arm shift forward.  Wham!  I throw my leg over his face and lock in the armbar.  Tap.  35 seconds to achieve victory.  Wow!  That felt really, really good.  Arm raised, big smile.  Cheers and hugs.  Time to get back to business.  Next match is minutes away.

Steve is incredibly strong.  He bulls me around the mat, tossing me like a rag doll.  It is all I can do to stay on my feet!  Fortunately for me, there isn’t much purpose to his aggression.  After the third time he drives me to my knees, I get smart.  I use his momentum to slide into my favorite guard position and lock on the armbar.  He’s having none of that, however.  His strength again comes into play, along with poor positioning on my part.  I can’t finish the armbar, but it doesn’t stop me from trying.  I grind his elbow into my groin, doing much more significant damage to myself than to him.  He decides that a solid defense tactic to make me loosen the armbar is to hoof me in the face.  The ref misses it, but I don’t let go.  Minutes pass until it finally occurs to me to transition to a triangle choke.  The shift in position distracts him long enough to allow me to pull his arm across to my opposite thigh and finish him with a differently leveraged armbar.  Same result as the first match: submission by armbar.  However, I have gassed myself hardcore.  My forearms burn worse than I’ve ever experienced in my life and I can barely walk due to the damage I’ve caused my ‘family jewels’ by persisting in my original, poorly placed armbar attempt.

The finals await.  This is the National tournament and I’ve made the finals!  One more opponent to go and I can bring home the gold medal to Five Rings.  I look Coach Tom in the eye and ask him to tell me that I deserve this, that I’ve worked hard for it, and not to settle for silver.  He does more than comply, pumping me up and reminding me to work my game.  I stride to the center of the mat, ready to give it my best.

I had the luxury of watching Seton’s matches.  He won both of his previous matches by Ezekiel choke from mount.  Unfortunately, he had the same luxury with me.  He is painfully aware that sliding guard and attacking with an armbar is my ‘A’ game.  We touch hands, I slide guard and he lowers his center of gravity.  This makes it incredibly hard to get to my pitstop and apply any submissions.  It does, however, open him up to a sweep I’ve worked on.  I use my cross collar grip to drive into him as I move my sleeve grip to his outside knee.  He collapses onto his back as I come up into his half guard.  Two points for me.  I work to drive my leg across his locked in half guard and move to full mount, but in the process I allow him to underhook my nearside leg.  He uses this leverage to escape, regain his feet, and start attacking my back.  Desperately, I grab his ankle and drive into it.  This forces him back to a north/south position.  Here we remain for what seems like an eternity.  I am locked underneath his weight, scooting him around the mat until we finally drive out of bounds.  There is a little over a minute and a half left in the match.  We meet again in the middle of that mat, touch hands, and I slide guard yet again.  We fall out of bounds and the referee resets us once more.  Forty seconds left.  I’m still up by two points.  I am completely and utterly exhausted.  I try to throw my leg over for a triangle attempt, but Seton tilts his shoulders and passes my guard with relative ease.  I struggle mightily to keep him at bay, but he is able to lock in a modified bow and arrow and I am done for.  Twenty seconds is the difference between gold and silver on this day. 

As I leave the mat, Coach gives me a look that indicates he believes that I could have and should have won the match, but it is quickly replaced by one of pride and he and my teammates give me highfives.   Some old friends, the Golds, have also come to watch.  I used to tutor and babysit for them when I first moved to California.  Jordan, Danny, and Zach have gotten so big!  Jordan is a blue belt in his own right, but he didn’t compete in this tournament.  It is most excellent to see them.

Everything else falls to the periphery as I catch sight of my sons.  The look in their eyes as they run up to congratulate me almost drives me to my knees.  My breath catches in my throat as I see the pride radiating from them.  They nearly crush me with their hugs and I am so happy that I am able to share this moment with them.  Briefly, time stops…  and we are a family again.  I coached their Little League teams for years and encouraged them through their brief stints in wrestling clubs, but they never got a chance to see their Dad as a competitor.  A healthy man who could set an example and be an athletic role model.  Maybe it is too little, too late.  But I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.  Except maybe more of them.

My Life as a White Belt - Nationals (Part 1)

Nationals:

                There haven’t been too many times when I’ve missed not having my driver’s license over the last nine months, but as I watch Robert settle into his ninth hour of driving on our way to Los Angeles for the IBJJF National Jiu-Jitsu Championship I really wish I could help out.  I have to admit, though, that Robert is an absolute machine.  He’s showing no signs of fatigue even after all this time.  We’ve stopped once to grab a bite to eat and refill the gas tank, but that’s pretty much it.

                It’s been awesome getting to know Robert better.  He comes from a small town, much like the one I grew up in… you know the one, where everyone knows everyone else and as he likes to put it, “The girls get pregnant just by you looking at them.”  He’s undergone his own transformation over the last few years.  He’s lost a bunch of weight, quit drinking by his own choice, and dedicated a large portion of his life to jiu jitsu training and coaching.  It’s odd to think of someone almost 13 years my junior as a role model, but in truth he has been and continues to be that for me.  He’s dependable, dedicated, and a man of integrity.  All things that I want to have associated with me.

                We finally make it all the way through the drive and arrive in L.A.   Memories start crashing through me.  My life in Southern California was tumultuous, to say the least.  Nine years of roller coaster craziness that left me clawing and scratching for breath.  It is a significant moment to come back here, to see the familiar landmarks, to allow my mind to re-open those doors.  My boys are waiting for me.

 Our first stop, though, is also the first place I went to when I first arrived here in 1999.  My Aunt Alta’s house.  She lives in Long Beach along with my Uncle Bob and they opened their home and their hearts to me when I was fresh out of grad school, giving me a solid foundation to get my feet underneath me in this new environment.  It is really wonderful to see them both, in good spirits and good health, and Robert and I enjoy a good meal and great conversation. 

                We meet with Coach Tom and Coach Korbett (the head of the Ribeiro gym in Seattle) for dinner at an old roommate’s restaurant.  Fronk’s has come a long way since Jamie opened it.  The food is fantastic and the conversation ranges from game plans to the fact that Saulo himself will be competing in the tournament tomorrow.  Thoroughly stuffed, Robert and I make our way to the hotel where Jerico awaits.  Jerico is an interesting guy.  A relatively new teammate, he’s chosen to compete in the big tournaments early in his jiu jitsu career with mixed results.  He’s easy to get along with and we share some laughs.

                Robert drops me off at my former in-laws house to meet with my sons.  I haven’t seen them in almost a year and a half.  It is incredibly difficult to hold back the tears as they come out of the house, so I don’t bother.  They’ve gotten so big – and strong!  Sammy is taller than I am now and lifts me off the ground when I hug him.  Anthony, who was so small when I left, has hit his growth spurt and put on a bunch of muscle.  We wrestle briefly and he is eager to demonstrate just how much muscle.  They are so much the same, but so different, too!  I can only imagine what they think of me.  The last time they saw me I weighed 50 pounds more and reeked of cigarette smoke.  I hope they are as proud of me as I am of them.  Almost all of my ex-wife’s family is there as well, and it quickly becomes apparent that at least in some small way I had an impact on all of these people’s lives.  Funny how I couldn’t see that very clearly when I was living it.  I resolve not to make that mistake with the people currently in my life.  We wile away the hours reminiscing and sharing stories of what has transpired in the intervening months since we were last together.  A couple of my ex-brother in-laws and my sons promise to come see me compete at the tournament and we hug and part ways again.  I feel like my heart is being ripped out and it isn’t long before I once again dissolve into tears.

                I am finding it very hard to focus on the coming tournament.  Luckily, I have a full day before I have to compete.  My priorities seem very confused and I am struggling to understand why it has taken a jiu jitsu tournament for me to finally return to this place and the young men who are courageously trying to fill the gap that I left in their lives.            

My Life as a White Belt - Warrior

Warrior:

                Sitting across the table from one of the most electrifying people I’ve ever met highlights how far I’ve come in my journey to recovery – I feel confident and composed, even though the butterflies are ramming full speed against my stomach.  Damn, she’s gorgeous.  She accepted my invitation to have dinner together – “for funzies”.  Still not sure whether she understands that I am completely enamored of her, but we’re having a great time so I try not to worry about it too much.  It’s important to me that she sees me for who I am.  In the past I often put up a façade in order to seem more appealing,  guessing at what I thought the other person wanted and completely missing the mark.  This time would be different.  I like who I am now, and if she doesn’t then I am finally in a place where I’m okay with that.  Life will go on.

                By the end of the evening, after some scintillating conversation, great food, and a romantic walk, my hopes are high.  I see something in her that radiates positivity.  She’s bright and passionate and seems to have similar goals to mine.  I can absolutely feel chemistry between us.  The spark is most assuredly there.  We part ways with huge smiles on our faces.  I can’t wait to see her again!

                A while back, Robert, Liz, and I registered to compete in the Warrior Dash.  It’s a five kilometer obstacle course meant to test your speed and willpower.  It routinely draws around eight thousand competitors over two days.  I am very excited to compete, as I haven’t done any racing since my early college days.  I’m in decent shape as I have been hitting the roads as often as possible so I think I should do fairly well.  I am also excited to spend more time with Liz and to see if she’s as dominant on a race course as she is on a mat.  Robert maintains that he doesn’t run for training, but he’s in great shape so I imagine he’ll do well anyhow.

                We meet at Five Rings.  Liz made us patriotic outfits so we would look like a team and to honor the ten year anniversary of 9/11.  The shredding makes us look badass and we add more decorations with markers and temporary tattoos.  We drive out to the rural location where the race is being held and as we pull in we notice the traffic starting to build – there are a ton of people coming to this event!  We can see an early heat of the race traversing an obstacle as we make our way to a parking spot.  Our adrenaline is already starting to flow as we begin our search for the check-in.

                Finding some other friends and acquaintances that we planned to meet proves to be less difficult than I first imagined, considering the crowds of people milling around the wooded area.  I come face to face with one of the true tests of the day – besides being an intense race through the woods, the Warrior Dash is also a big party.  Beer flows liberally and I can tell that some of the participants are more concerned with their buzz than with how well they do in the race.  This is definitely the type of atmosphere where I would normally be pounding brews, but I honestly don’t find it that hard to turn away from them.  It isn’t why I came and I won’t let it distract me from achieving my goals for the day.

                We form up at the starting line, casually bantering with the other competitors as we stretch out.  A realization hits me hard as the time to begin rapidly approaches.  I smoked cigarettes for almost twenty years, and here I am – about to run as fast as I can up steep hills and across daunting obstacles.  How amazing is that?  I’ve really done it.  I’m reaching goals that I once thought were impossible.  BANG!  The starter’s gun goes off and so do I.  I sprint out of the gates and try to separate myself from the pack.  The dust makes breathing and even seeing difficult at times, but the downslope allows a few of us who positioned ourselves well to get away from the main crush of racers.  About a quarter of a mile into the race we hit our first inclines.  These hills are steep and long, and do an excellent job of separating the folks who came to race and those who came for the party.  As far as I can tell, I’m the first one of our team to hit the mile marker…  and just as I think that, Liz blazes past me up the steepest part.  Man, she is fast!  At least for the moment, the trail became a lot more ‘scenic’. 

                Several miles and a bunch of obstacles later, I finish the race.  My lungs are burning – I definitely reached some of the damage caused by my years of smoking.  My legs are dead.  I am elated with my performance and would dance if I could move.  I settle for a hug from Liz, who finished several minutes ahead of me and a highfive from Robert, who comes cruising in less than a minute behind me.  We try to find our finishing times for a while, but the computers are being slow.  We make our way slowly to the ‘Car Wash’ to clean up, taking pictures along the way.  There is a moment where I put my arm around Liz and she leans her head into my shoulder.  I know then that someday we’ll be more than just friends, but for now all three of us revel in the moment.  We celebrate being alive and the memories that we’re making.  I am finally learning to appreciate the present. 

Life.Is.Good.