MAMA: Adventures in Martial Arts and Motherhood

From a conversation overheard at a recent BJJ tournament at City College: Guy 1: I heard he is kind of a jerk to his students. Like he yells at them when they lose and stuff. And he doesn't pay much attention to lower belts during rolling, he mostly just rolls with the other black and brown belts.  Guy 2: But I heard he is a really good teacher.  Guy 1: Oh he is! He is really great at demonstrating technique. Really knows his stuff! I took class there once and it was awesome! Um, guys? If he is a jerk to his students he is not a "really good teacher". He just a jerk who happens to also be pretty decent at teaching jiu jitsu moves. I don't know who they were talking about. But I actually hear this kind of stuff in the martial arts world a lot. Apparently dojos are full of these "amazing" teachers who really "know their stuff". They have won a lot of trophies, these guys. They have important names. You go to their schools, watch them demons

I first started my karate life at a small dojo on 99th street and Broadway. There are a lot of things I remember about that place. Most significantly, how hard it is to climb three flights of stairs on your way to a sparring class that you are deathly afraid of. And the broken parts of drywall where students had "fallen" into the changing rooms. (Read: punched through a wall by a man who will remain nameless. Well ok, his name was Paul. But we had like 7 Pauls in the dojo back then, and all of them will probably think this is about them, because it was, so its fine.)  The other thing I remember about those early years was that the dojo was above a restaurant. It changed multiple times over the course of my training, but when I first joined it was called Bahama Mama. I have no idea what kind of place Bahama Mama was because I was a teenager at the time. After class we went for pizza. But the grownups would sometimes go in there and we youngins assumed all kinds of wildness w

This morning I woke up thinking "Hey it has been awhile since I have written a blog post. Lets do that!" (Well to be honest, my first thought was "Cofffeeeeee." But after that it was all about writing.) It is Thursday, which means it is a BJJ day for me. I took class yesterday so my neck is a bit sore (spider guard) but nothing is too banged up. I really like my new school and I am looking forward to going to class today. So its going to be a great training day! Right? As I was weaving my hair into as many braids as possible in the hopes of it surviving rolling today, I had an idea for what I wanted to write about. In December it will be five years of BJJ for me. Yet sometimes I still am not sure why I am doing it. Despite hours and hours on the mats, I am still pretty bad at it. I still get tapped by white belts who are much bigger than me. I still forget every drill within a week of learning it. I am still not sure exactly what the point of all this is. Is it

I have spent a lot of time on my bike recently, to and from my new BJJ school, uptown to the dojo, to Petco to buy more crickets for the geckos. Sometimes I bike to the ferry terminal in Long Island City and take the ferry over the water to 33rd before biking uptown. I consider that the easy route. Other days, like today, I bike over the Williamsburg Bridge and then all the way to the dojo.  That's the hard one. It's not just that the bridge is uphill half of the way across, or that it is sometimes a wind tunnel up there. Those things are hard but mainly I don't like the bridge route because I am kind of uncomfortable up there. I am a little bit afraid of heights and a lot afraid of places that I cannot easily escape from. Like tunnels. Or stuck subway cars. Or a fenced in bike path high above the East River. Inevitably there is a moment every time I am biking up the hill when I contemplate just turning around and going back to Brooklyn. Then there is the point of no retu

Training is hard. I am not talking about injuries, or sore muscles, or the emotional roller coaster that is inevitable when punches, kicks and chokes are involved. Those things are all there, but sometimes the hard part is just the constant going to class. Going when you are tired. Going when you are feeling lazy. Going when you would rather just sit on the couch eating chips and watching reruns of Game of Thrones.  It is all this going that is the hardest part. So it helps to have some extra motivation; techniques you are working on, friends you are looking forward to seeing in class, an upcoming promotion, or even the delicious cold beer you are going to have after sparring. Whatever gets you there. But sometimes you lose your drive anyway. Maybe your favorite training partner quits. Maybe you had a long work day of your boss being a jerk and you just want to lie down. Maybe you get a new job. Maybe you didn't get promoted when you thought you would. Maybe your back hurts. M

It has been awhile, people. I would love to tell you that I have been traveling the world but if you know me you know there is no way that is true. To be honest, I have just been kind of lazy with writing lately. I guess I haven't been inspired.  Not to worry, it was only a matter of time before someone posted something on Facebook that was worthy of my ranting. (Shockingly, Donald Trump's mere existence was not good enough.) This morning, it was "Don't Be a Pussy" martial arts guy. That is not his real name. But you all know him. "Don't Be a Pussy" martial arts guy has a very recognizable persona. But just in case you are not sure, here are some of his distinguishing features: Posts only memes that have to do with "hard training" and "real martial arts". By "real" he of course means only things that will "work in the street."  Says a lot of military stuff. Has never been in the military. Makes

There are so many lessons in a kids karate class. Perseverance. (When you are really tired and think you cannot do another pushup, do just one more. ) Being a good example. (See that new white belt kid over there who is spinning in a circle. Why do you think he is doing that? Do you think it may be because he saw you, a green belt, spinning on his butt?) Painting. (A few weeks ago I told my most advanced class a story that went like this: Suppose you had an assignment for school to draw a picture that was going to be hung up in an art show. You wouldn't just scribble on a piece of paper, say "I'm done!" and call that your masterpiece, right? No you would work really hard. Make it your best work. Well your kata is the same. Don't show me your scribble Pinan 1. Show me your masterpiece.") That's deep right? Some real Kyoshi stuff. I spend a lot of time telling my kids that karate is for them. That if they cheat on their pushups they are only cheating t

It rained all day on Monday. That meant that Maya and I could not go to the playground after school like we normally do. She didn't want to go to the library and I didn't want to pay $20 for our local indoor playspace, so instead we just stayed home and did a bunch of random things. Maya wrote a story. I made a tiny dent in the giant pile of clean laundry that lives in the corner of our living room. She cleaned her room. I cleaned the bathroom. She beat me at chess. Twice.  For awhile now Maya has had the idea to collect some of her old things (clothing mostly) and put them in a bag to donate to charity. Specifically, she wants to help the homeless. Here in NYC, there are often people out on the street begging for change. They make Maya feel sad, and she wants to help all of them. So on Monday, while the rain beat relentlessly against our windows, Maya filled a bag with clothes that no longer fit her anymore, along with two stuffed animals, a book and a toy baby that cri

To the cop who felt it was necessary to give me a $135 ticket for SLOWLY biking through a red light after STOPPING FOR THE PEDESTRIANS who were crossing, on CPW where there is NO SIDE STREET TRAFFIC. ..fuck you buddy! There is construction in every bike lane, the Williamsburg Bridge is a daily parking lot, the L train costs $2.75 and is always broken and there is a traffic jam on every highway. But yeah I'm the criminal for trying to do something healthy and enjoyable with my commute. When I was in college, I used to get on the 2 train at 96th street in Manhattan and ride all the way to Flatbush Avenue (Brooklyn College), a trip that could easily take over an hour. Since I often had early morning classes, it was not unusual for me to take my seat on the train, close my eyes, and immediately fall dead asleep. I would wake up somewhere way out in Brooklyn. I could never do this now. Forget the fact that I am much older and wiser, therefore, I keep my eyes wide open at all times i

To the Parents of the Small Child in My Karate Class: Which small child? The one who, on her first day, burst into tears at the very thought of stepping on the floor. The one who is now one of the leaders in my class of 3 year olds. The one who could not, for the life of him, stand in one place for more than 5 seconds. Look at him, he is about to get his blue belt. The one who has been in our dojo since he was four and is now one of the sharpest brown belts I have ever seen. The one who is peeking wide eyed through the window when she thinks no one is paying attention. I see you, little one. Come join us. It will be ok. In fact, it will be better than ok, you will love it.  I get it. To most of you, our dojo is just some after school class you are signing your kid up for. Something to do while you are waiting for the snow to melt, for soccer season to start up again, for your vacation time to accumulate. I know how it goes. I signed my child up for gymnastics in January. She loved g

Every year, on Mothers Day, Facebook is flooded with posts from grateful sons and daughters, bragging about all the amazing qualities of their respective moms. Thank god for social media. It used to be that you had to actually call your mother on the second Sunday in May, or even worse, meet her for an overpriced brunch somewhere. Now you can post a heartwarming photo and a few choice words and you have fulfilled your obligation. Not that I have any problem with Mothers Day, or my mom, for that matter. In fact, I am one of the lucky ones. I adore my mother; we get along perfectly. She lives close by. Most importantly, she is still alive. For many people, this particular holiday is nothing but a terrible reminder of what they have lost. If you are one of them, know that I am thinking of you. Of course, there are also the blog posts from the childless women, the ones who feel compelled to defend their decision to not become mothers. And I understand the impulse, after all, if there i

In this week's edition of Men Who Say Stupid Things, I give you Ralek Gracie, president of Metamoris. http://www.mmafighting.com/2015/4/12/8316949/metamoris-interested-in-ronda-rousey-but-claims-financial-realities. When asked whether the popular PPV grappling tournament was planning on signing more females, he replied with this brilliant gem:  "It's absolutely not a joke who ends up on the card. With every match, there has to be a unique story and there has to be an element that will bring out people from all walks of life in a lot of ways. Even though we know the core audience and what they're interested in, we have to constantly be on the boundaries. We have to be constantly pushing the edge of what our viewership is, otherwise we won't survive. All we're doing is reinvesting all of our money into these athletes. We're spinning a wheel. We have to keep the wheel moving. I just don't think there's women who are really going to bring it on that l