Why I Do Jiu-Jitsu
A representation of me preparing to get my ass kicked.
I started doing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ) about 2 years ago, and ended up leaving after about 6 months. The experience of being flipped around, choked out, and having various limbs threatened with extreme force wasn't exactly my favorite. But in truth, I was frustrated because I didn't feel like I was learning, and I wasn't attending consistently enough to make the friends that might have helped with that frustration. Part of that was on the gym I was at; it was huge. There were probably too many people there to get the attention from coaches I wanted and needed. But a big part of it was also on me; I hate getting my ass kicked and that's kind of the deal with any martial art early on. However, after several months away (COVID didn't help), I'm back and I'm pretty sure this one's for good. Here's why I do it:
Humility.
I tell you what, this sport keeps you humble. For example, sometimes practices features stand-up (beginners often start a match or 'round' on their knees, it's safer and easier, and most matches spend the majority of the time on the ground). During this particular practice, I made the mistake of working against somebody who used to wrestle. Stand-up is his domain and while I knew that, I wanted to push myself. And to this day, I swear to you I did not see him until he was already on top of me with my back to the floor.
Now, this man might be a wizard with really weird pajamas. (And I'll be keeping a close eye on him from now on). But there is so much to learn in BJJ, particularly at the start. It can be overwhelming with how much you do not know. There is closed guard, open guard (of which there seem to 100 variations), stand-up, side mount, full mount, the back, knee on belly, and turtle. There are sweeps. Then there are the submissions. Many of them. And none of them feel particularly nice when they're being practiced on you.
All of this knowledge that you do not know can and will be used against you with extreme prejudice. You are going to learn what you do not know, and you are going to learn it quickly. Ideally, it's from somebody willing to explain what happened, as my sparring partner was that day, that my head level needed to stay lower than his.
I'm more willing to take on this failure and this feedback now. Whether it's because I'm older, more willing, in a better environment, (probably a mixture of all of them), I have learned to genuinely enjoy the lessons being taught, despite the pain. I had the stupidest smile on my face after my friend's takedown, because can you believe how good this guy is?
Moral of the story: instead of BJJ Attempt 1.0 when getting beat was a reflection of my unworthiness, those same lessons in BJJ 2.0 are feedback. Feedback that there is something to be learned here. If getting your ass kicked is unavoidable, then I might as well either a) enjoy it b) learn from it or c) both.
Competition.
I truly miss being an athlete. Having played soccer for as long as I did, the clarity and structure that sport provided is missed. When ‘athlete’ is part of your identity, you know why you’re running, you know why you’re at the gym, and you know when you can do it, because training and games provides the foundation of your schedule. Your competition, against yourself and against others, is forced into your week, every week, for as long as you’re playing.
I haven’t had that since I stopped playing, first after I graduated, and then after I hurt my back. The gym helps, but it isn’t quite the same when you’re there for some vague, undefined notions of ‘fitness’. You know it’s good for you, but you don’t feel the same sense of urgency and meaning that you used to.
BJJ restores some of that. There’s a reason to do cardio again, because otherwise I’ll be utterly gassed at the end of a round. There’s a reason to do mobility, so I don’t snap anything. There’s a reason to train, otherwise I won’t get better. There is meaning to the work I do around BJJ, and that feels good.
I haven’t quite tapped back into the competitive edge yet, primarily because I’m not good enough to win yet, and partly because I’m not entirely sure I want to let that side out again. The “do anything to win” mentality has its uses and its advantages, but there’s a potential for nastiness there that I’m not quite ready to embrace again. The day may come where that resurfaces, but in the meantime, feeling the purpose of competing to get better is a welcome addition to the day and the week.
Challenge.
Both humility and competition lead to the third reason: BJJ is the challenge I choose to have in my life. This is a difficult thing I have purposefully put in my life exactly because it is fucking hard. One of my main tasks in BJJ, and in life, is to know reality. That sounds a bit meta, but borrowing from famed physicist, Richard Feynman, my aim is to not my fool myself, even though I am the easiest person to fool. In BJJ, my weaknesses will be exposed, and it is good that they are.
BJJ shows an unblemished mirror to any flaws or mistakes, with immediate, unforgiving feedback. That feedback is sometimes painful, but it also makes it difficult to be upset with a long queue (that's a line for my USA friends), or traffic, or dealing with an annoying email when you've just had somebody threaten to wrench your arm out of your socket. Famed sage du jour, Joe Rogan puts it really well when he says:
"The more I create my own struggle, the more I orchestrate it, through training, through exercise, through rigorous physical struggle...the more you do that, the more I feel like it minimizes those other struggles of life."
In short, this challenge provides perspective. By choosing to deliberately create my own struggle, I prioritize and organize the conflict in my life. And I’d argue that’s a good thing, and worth being strangled and tackled every now and again.
