Uchi Deshi

Shihonage

2008-05-08T21:13:00.001-07:00

Deshis go for a swim

2008-05-08T21:12:00.000-07:00

Keo discusses Aikido

2008-05-08T21:09:00.000-07:00

James is Moving

2008-05-08T10:28:00.000-07:00

"I'm leaving." Said James one day. I was shocked. I've known James since I moved into the dojo. He's a talented soto deshi who trains regularly, and the only reason he's not already a black belt is because he's taken time off for injuries. "What are you talking about?" I said.

"This is not for publication on the blog." James said. James knows that anything he tells me might show up on the blog. "Okay, okay." I agreed, as I began taking mental notes. "What's going on?" James related all the details about the recent disastrous breakup he had just endured with with his longtime girlfriend. He moved out of their house, and decided to move to San Francisco to go to school in the Fall.

"What about your test?" I asked. James is a 1st kyu (the last white belt rank before black belt), and will soon have the hours of training necessary to take his shodan ("black belt"). James and I both expected to take our next tests together, but I didn't think we were going to take our tests until at least November. "Sensei is going to test me before I leave." Said James. "Probably in August."

This was bad news for several reasons. First, I like training with James. His Aikido is good, and he has good ukemi (the art of falling). Even more important is the fact that we have fun training together. We also we sit next to each other when we bow in and out at the beginning and end of class, and in the Circle.

I whisper jokes to James while we're bowing or meditating ("You know how I know you're gay? - Because you do Aikido!"), and he tries to steal my bokken (wooden sword) when I'm not looking, or sits on my hakama (the culotte-like pants worn by Aikido black belts) so that I fall over when I try to stand up. In addition, although I had expected to take my nidan (2d degree black belt) when James took his shodan (black belt), I didn't think we were going to be testing as soon as August. If I was going to test in August, I was going to have to work hard to get ready.

There is never just one black belt test - Sensei always conducts several black belt tests at a time, and no one else besides the 2 of us is going to take a black belt test anytime soon. All the students know each other's status, because we know how many hours everyone has. Before a student can take the next test, they have to accumulate a certain amount of hours before the next test. Every day, each student marks their hours down on the sign-in sheet that hangs at the front of the dojo. Every month, the hours get tallied, and students can check to see how many hours they have and whether they’re eligible for the next test. In addition to the hours, there is also a time requirement, and you have to wait 2 years between the shodan and nidan tests.

I needed 360 hours before my nidan. I've accumulated 330 hours. Although I will have plenty of hours by this summer, 2 years will not have yet elapsed. I took my shodan in November, so I was expecting to test sometime in the fall or winter. On the other hand, Sensei makes exceptions for the uchi deshis. It's possible that she might have me test as early as August, but she won't tell me ahead of time, so I have to be prepared. "You better be ready just in case." Dylan warned me.

Although it would be earlier than I expected, I don't really mind testing. As Ryan says, the main reason for becoming an uchi deshi is to get good at Aikido and to advance quickly. Everyone wants to get their black belt, but, according to Aikikai records, only 5% of Aikido students ever reach shodan. Part of the reason is that it usually takes around 5 years, and it isn't unusual for students to take 10 years to reach shodan. Because the deshis train almost every day, we advance more quickly, and we usually reach shodan in about 3 to 4 years.

In addition to attending class every day, we train outside of class. I usually get up early to practice weapons with Andrei, and after class, I practice nidan techniques with Boris or Ryan. Like Ryan and Boris, I spent hours every day preparing for my earlier tests. Especially in the beginning, it's easy to make quick progress, and it's satisfying to move up quickly in rank. Later, the progress is much slower. Although I have been training regularly, once I learned that there was a chance that I might test in August, I knew I was going to have to put in a lot of extra hours to get ready.

Not all the deshis are quite so eager to test. Flojo works most evenings, and misses many of the advanced classes. Flojo is practicing for his 3d kyu test with Boris, but since he doesn't train very often, he doesn't want to test too early. Another deshi - I'll call him "Bouncer" - also seems to have some anxiety about testing. Deshis need at most only need 3 months between 4th kyu and 3d kyu (intermediate white belt ranks that are equivalent to a blue belt), but Bouncer took his 4th kyu test over a year ago and still doesn't seem to be in any rush to take his 3d kyu.

Both Boris and I have offered to practice with Bouncer to help him get ready for his test, but Bouncer hasn't taken us up on our offers. Not only does Bouncer not train outside of class, he only occasionally trains in class. Bouncer's reasons for missing class include illness, real or imagined, work, anxiety, and lack of sleep. Sensei is very patient, and is non-judgmental about her students. Not everyone, however, shares her attitude.

Bouncer's reluctance to test has become a source of impatience among the deshis. For a while, a hand injury provided him with a good excuse, but no longer. "Richard broke his foot after Bouncer hurt his hand." Pointed out Boris. "And Richard is already back on the mat doing high falls." Boris paused and thought for a minute. Boris turned to me. "Dude." He said. "I don't think it's such a good idea for you to be doing high falls so soon."

Ryan, who has high standards for deshis, is particular impatient. "Deshis should be training every day - in every one of Sensei's class." Said Ryan. "At the very least, deshis should train 5 or 6 days a week. If you don't want to train, that's great - no one's forcing you to train - just move the fuck out of the dojo! This isn't a flophouse!"

Bouncer had used up most of his excuses for not testing, so he finally played his trump card. He explained to Sensei that he didn't have enough money to cover the testing fee. Sensei won't test a student if they haven't paid the test fee. I was eavesdropping on the conversation. "How much is it?" I said. "I'll lend you the money." When Bouncer told me that he was reluctant to incur any more debts, I offered to give him the $45. "I don't want you to put off your test just because you're worried about the money." I said. I paid Bouncer's test fee, but Bouncer still didn't test.

Usually, the deshis pass up the soto deshis in rank. Although Aikido is not supposed to be competitive, it's still very satisfying to move to the senior side of the other students when we line up before or after class. Now, for the first time, an uchi deshi is about to be passed up by at least one of the soto deshis. "I just don't get it." Said Ryan. "When I was a deshi, I couldn't wait to fucking test! Just like you and Boris. Why would someone be a deshi if you're not going to train or test? The whole point of being a deshi is to get rank quickly." I pointed out Bouncer's good points. Bouncer did a lot of work around the dojo, including helping out with the kids class.

As usual, although he expressed them with more vehemence than I would, Ryan reflected my own feelings. "Who gives a fuck!" Said Ryan. "If you're not training, there's no point in living in the fucking dojo! The only reason you’re a deshi is to learn Aikido. After spending a year or 2 as a deshi, what are you going to say? I can't do Aikido, but I'm really good at doing chores?" I had to admit that Ryan had a point.

Flying Kokkyunage

2008-04-26T13:17:00.000-07:00

J.S. ties on his hakama

2008-04-26T13:10:00.000-07:00

Deshis play a game of Risk

2008-04-26T13:05:00.000-07:00

Going Back To Class

2008-04-26T12:43:00.000-07:00

After I broke my foot, I didn't hang out at the dojo much. I stopped by to get my mail, and say hi, but this seemed like a good opportunity to spend some quality time with my wife. Besides, as Ryan used to say, "If you not going to fucking train, then you should move out of the fucking dojo."

Normally, of all the students, the deshis have the best attendance, and the rule of thumb is that deshis should attend class between 5 to 7 days a week. Despite Ryan's axiom, however, the current crop of deshis is not the most zealous about training or attending class. The reasons vary, but the more common reasons cited are work, recurring or imagined illness, and lack of sleep.

Previously, the deshis almost always trained during and then after class. We were invariably preparing for someone's next test, and there's always something we want to work on. The general rule is that the junior student asks a senior student if they would train after class. In the beginning, I was nervous about imposing, so after each class I edged up to Ryan and hovered around him until he offered to train with me. "You sure you don't mind?" I always asked. Deshis are supposed to help each other and Ryan never minded.

When Ryan moved, Greg was my sempai or senior. At first, Greg didn't train with me after class; I trained with whomever I could find. One evening, Pocahontas, a former deshi, who knew that I was preparing for my 1st kyu (the last white belt rank before black belt, which corresponds to a brown belt), asked Greg if he was helping me to get ready for my test. He told her that he wasn't. Pocahontas was shocked. "Deshis are supposed to get their fellow deshis ready for tests!" She told him. "That's what being a deshi is all about!" After that, Greg offered to train with me, and we started practicing together after every class.

Before I broke my foot, Boris and I were going over the nidan (2d degree black belt) test requirements, since that's coming up next for me. Both Boris and I have also offered to train with the junior deshis to help them get ready for their tests, but, surprisingly, the junior deshis seem uninterested in putting in any extra training. Not surprisingly, they are not progressing very quickly.

Recently, I made an appointment with one of the deshis to coach her and a soto deshi to prepare them for their upcoming tests. I left work early to train with them and waited by the mat. I wasn't going to stand on the mat, because I was still wearing a cast - I was going to coach from the side.

After a few minutes the soto deshi showed up, but the uchi deshi never appeared and didn't leave any message saying that she wasn't going to be there. I was surprised, because I expect the uchi deshis to be more disciplined about their study of Aikido - especially if they have committed to train with a senior student. Besides, as someone pointed out, since I'm injured, the only reason I came in to the dojo was to coach them. Luckily, my trip wasn't wasted, because I was able to work with the soto deshi, but I was annoyed.

No doubt my annoyance was exacerbated by my frustration at not being able to train. I felt stymied in my progress, and frustrated because I couldn't prepare for my nidan. In addition, I had no outlet for all the energy I normally expended in class, and I started to go a little stir crazy over the last few weeks.

Finally, 5 weeks after I broke my foot, I went back to class. Although I'm still injured, I was a visceral relief to be back in the dojo. As I went through the ritual of getting dressed, putting on my gi (the white pajamas worn by martial artists), tying on my belt, and then stepping into my hakama (the culotte-like pants worn by Aikido black belts), and then kneeling and clapping into class, I realized how much I missed the rhythm and discipline of Aikido. I've seen visitors who haven't done Aikido for a long time look nostalgic when they hear the double clap that begins and ends every class, and now I knew just how they felt.

Of course, the one who suffered the most since I broke my foot has been my wife, Michaela. At first Michaela was delighted to spend more time with me. Normally, I sleep at the dojo at least 3 nights a week, but we keep in touch by phone. When I stay at the dojo, I call Michaela after work on my way to the dojo, and again after class to chat and say goodnight.

For the past 5 weeks, though, we have been spending every evening together after work. It has been like a regular relationship - I cook dinners or we go out to eat together, and we play games and watch movies. After a few weeks, however, I noticed that Michaela had started counting the days until I returned to class and she had some time to herself. Apparently, the lack of Aikido was making me too manic.

I was going to return to class after 4 weeks, but I was warned not to. Boris was the unexpected voice of reason. When I told him of my plan, he said. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Dude." "Really?" I said, surprised. "Yeah." He said. "Really." Michaela had warned me about not going back to class too early, but I expected that. I was surprised to hear Boris warning me about the wisdom of my actions. Usually the roles are reversed.

Not fully convinced, I decided to see for myself. I took my cast off and walked around for the day. Although I spent most of the time sitting at my desk, by the end of the day my foot was sore and I was limping badly. Reluctantly, I realized that Boris was probably right. Perhaps, I thought, it would be better to give it another week. Besides, I didn't want to risk Michaela's wrath by re-injuring myself by going back to class too early. I suspected that it would try her patience.

A week later, Michaela left town on business - it was time to try class. I had again taken off my cast a few days earlier and was walking without the cast now. My foot was still pretty sore, so I limped, moving slowly and carefully, but it wasn't too bad. If I was careful, and walked on the outside edge of my foot, I could get around pretty well.

When I got to the dojo, I joined the beginners class first, and, as usual, trained with the newest beginners. I knew that most of the students knew about my foot, but there were some new students who didn't know me. Since the newest students tend to be the stiffest and most unpredictable, I tried to be extra careful. When James joined the class, he insisted that I put some tape on my foot to warn of my injury. It wasn't a bad idea, so I followed his advice and wrapped some red duct tape around my foot to alert the other students.

On a few occasions in the past I have been hurt training in the beginners class. My buddy, Keo, told me that I have to learn how to protect myself at all times - especially when training with beginners. I tended to be too relaxed with the beginners, and wasn't prepared for them when they stepped or fell on me or twisted my arm in an unexpected way while moving in the opposite direction. One of the beginners did step on my foot, but it was on my good foot. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I noticed that although I wasn't training hard, I could feel a cold sweat on my neck. At first, I thought it was because I was out of shape since I hadn't trained for more than a month. Every time I start back up after taking a break from Aikido, I get frustrated when I feel that I'm out of shape. When we lined up after doing a technique, I noticed the students next to me panting. I wasn't breathing hard, and it occurred to me that I was sweating because my foot was still sore and I was using so much effort to be careful.

I remembered how, as a beginner, I had noticed that I was always out of breath and sweating hard, while the advanced students didn't seem to be very tired. Although I now congratulated myself for not being as out of shape as I had feared, I realized that at least part of it was because I wasn't using as much effort as the beginners to do the techniques. Early on I learned that as you become more experienced at Aikido, you use less effort.

When Michaela heard that I had gone back to class, she was not overjoyed. "You better not injure yourself again." She warned. I assured her that I was fine, and that I had been extra careful. I didn't mention that I had tried a high fall. To ease her mind, I promised to abide by her 2 strict rules: No more injuries and no felonies.

Iriminage

2008-03-28T20:56:00.000-07:00

Michaela & I got married at the dojo

2008-03-28T20:54:00.000-07:00

A dojo fashion show

2008-03-28T20:50:00.000-07:00

My Broken Left Foot

2008-03-28T15:03:00.000-07:00

About a year ago Andrei moved into the dojo. He's Russian, and his English is so poor that we usually don’t understand a word he says, but he always has a smile on his face and a positive attitude. Andrei and I often engage in kiai (the shouts martial artists make) contests - each of us vying to make the loudest, most obnoxious kiai possible. Like me, Andrei likes high falls, so we do a lot of high falls when we’re training together.

Andrei’s Aikido is different from ours. He’s a shodan (black belt) and very good, but he moves differently. He’s more wiggly, and jumps up in the air with glee when he’s performing a technique. Sometimes, however, he makes me nervous. It’s fun to train with him, but it can also be a challenge, because I don’t know what to expect when he throws me. A couple of time, he’s dumped me on my head, or yanked my shoulder (which I’ve separated a couple of times).

I spoke to some ex-deshis about how to take ukemi (the art of falling) with Andrei without getting hurt. “I like training with Andrei.” I said. “It’s good for me, and it’s a challenge, but it scares me.” Yeah, it’s scary." Said Ryan. "He’s fucking nuts. But isn’t that how it is whenever you train with anyone at a high level? What about when you train with Keo?”

It’s true that I also have to be on my toes when I train with Keo, who is a sandan (3d degree black belt), but more because of his speed and dynamism. He goes fast and hard, but I can tell where he’s going to go. With Andrei, I never know which way I’m going next. I asked Keo for advice. I told him that I wanted to train with Andrei, but I also wanted to know how to protect myself. He gave me a few tips, like making sure I didn’t let my arms get pulled out of my center, and controlling the rotation of my body when taking koshinage (over the hip throws).

I went to advanced class the next day, excited to train. I paired up with Andrei, eager to put my new-found knowledge to the test. It was a simple technique - tenshinage (a technique called “heaven and earth") - and since I’m babying my back lately, I wasn’t going to do any high falls. At least not at first. I was going to start off slow and easy.

I grabbed both of Andrei’s wrists and he did tenshinage. I turned with him, preparing to take an easy roll. As I turned, however, my ankle twisted, and my foot turned over on its side. We were going fairly hard and fast, and I lost my balance. As I fell, my other knee came down right on top of my turned foot. I heard a “crack” and felt a sharp pain.

I’ve broken a number of bones in the past so I wasn’t too worried about that. I was worried that I had torn a ligament or tendon, since they’re much more difficult to heal. I limped off the mat to get some ice. I still wasn’t sure it was broken, but as I stepped off the mat, I felt my foot crack again when I put weight on it. At least it was only the bone, I thought, as I held an ice pack on my foot.

When I injured my back in class a couple of months ago, my wife, Michaela was not very happy. She already thinks I take too many risks and do too many high falls. I was a little nervous about her response be to my latest injury. I shouldn’t have worried. Michaela was solicitous and insisted on meeting me at the hospital emergency room. She even offered to drive downtown to pick me up. Michaela was slightly less pleased when I told her that I would drive myself, but she knew enough not to argue with me.

We got to the hospital and checked in. As we were sitting in the waiting room, a male nurse approached me and tried to stick a thermometer in my mouth. I protested, accusing him of using a rectal thermometer, but he insisted he was using the right one. “Well.” I said. “How come it tastes so funny?” He ignored me and asked if I had broken any other bones in the past. Michaela rolled her eyes as I explained that the hospital form was too small to include the whole list. “There’s not enough room on the paper.” I said. “Just put down the major ones, then.” He said. He could see I was going to be trouble.

After they took x-rays of my foot, the doctor showed me the break. When Michaela saw the x-ray, she demanded that the doctor instruct me to stay off my foot for 6 weeks. “Yeah.” He said. You shouldn’t walk on the foot for 6 weeks.” I laughed. “I was hoping to go to class tomorrow.” I said. The doctor seemed surprised, but decided I must be joking. Michaela sighed and rolled her eyes again. The nurse put my foot in a temporary fiberglass cast, and we drove home.

The next day, Michaela had to leave town on business, and I went to see the orthopedist. He examined the x-rays and my foot. “I’m going to give you a walking cast.” He said. “But you should really stay off it as much as possible. You can walk on it for short distances like to the bathroom, but use your crutches for longer distances, like to the car.” “Can I go to class?” I asked. “Class?” He said. “You’re not supposed to walk on it, let alone do martial arts. Just take off the cast to take a bath and go to bed. As long as there is no sharp pain, you’ll be okay.” I was delighted to have the walking cast. I quickly discarded the crutches and drove to work.

My car has a manual transmission. As soon as I got on the road, I found that I couldn’t press the clutch with my new cast. I was stuck in traffic trying to push the clutch with my heel, but it wouldn’t work. Frustrated, and stuck in an intersection, I reached down and undid the Velcro. I pulled the cast off and threw it in the back seat.

I was already worrying about what I was going to do if I couldn’t go to class for 6 weeks. I could lift some weights, and my physical therapist is constantly devising new tortures for me that she assures me are exercises. It occurred to me that I might be able to jump rope on my remaining good foot. I knew Michaela wouldn’t approve, but she was out of town, so I decided to give it a try. It didn’t go well. Disappointed, I decided to stick to the weights and ab exercises.

A couple of days later, I drove to the airport to pick up Michaela. She called me on my cell phone when she arrived. “I’m in baggage claim.” She said. “Okay.” I said. “Give me minute to park. Then I’ll put my cast back on and meet you.” “What do you mean?” Asked Michaela, her voice rising. "What do you mean - put your cast back on?" “I can’t press the clutch with my cast on.” I explained. “So I have to take it off when I drive.”

“Do you mean you’re driving without your cast?” Said Michaela, shocked. “It’s okay.” I said. “I’m using my heel to press the clutch. The doctor said it was okay.” “No he didn’t!” Said Michaela. “Yes he did.” I said. “He told me it was okay as long as I didn’t feel any sharp pain.” “You’re lying!” Said Michaela. “Besides, you never feel any sharp pain!”

When we got home, I took off my cast to do my ab exercises before going to bed. Michaela got up to look at me. “Are you balancing on your broken foot?” She asked, accusingly. “Yes." I said. "The physical therapist said it was okay.” “No she didn’t!” Said Michaela. Michaela clutched her face. “That’s the worst lie you ever told me!” She said. “Why don’t you just stick a knife in my eye?” It seemed to be a rhetorical question, so I didn’t answer. I finished doing my exercises.

Another Koshinage for Mad Dog

2008-03-15T13:05:00.000-07:00

Deshis go out for sushi

2008-03-15T13:02:00.000-07:00

Deshis by the ocean

2008-03-15T13:00:00.000-07:00

The Pin of Death

2008-03-14T15:51:00.000-07:00

When class is over, all the students sit in a Circle in front of the Shomen (the altar-like area in the front of the mat where a photograph of the founder, O’Sensei is displayed). After a minute of quiet of meditation, if there are any newcomers or visitors, we go around the Circle and introduce ourselves, and then make any announcements. Once that’s over, we bow to each of the partners we trained with during class. When we’re through bowing to each other, I get Sensei a glass of water, while the other students grab brooms and prepare to sweep the mats and floors.

When Dylan or John Smith teach a class, they always set a good example by being the first ones to get a broom and start sweeping. On occasion, I have fought with them to get to the brooms first, but they put up a good struggle, and often win. After trying a number of tactics, including sneaking up behind them and trying to grab the brooms, I finally found the solution.

Now, I let John Smith and Dylan get a broom. While they start sweeping, I get a glass of water, and then take it to them, and then stand in their way, so that they have to stop sweeping. I offer them the glass of water. As they reach for the glass of water, I take their broom and finish sweeping the mat with the other students. On Tuesday and Thursday evenings, we not only sweep the mats, we also give them an extra cleaning by mopping them with Pinesol.

Despite all the sweeping and mopping of the mats, however, I’ve found that I sometimes get athlete’s foot. Whenever I notice it, I apply some anti-fungal cream, which I keep at the ready next to my gi’s (the white pajamas worn by martial artists). I’ve tried using a anti-fungal spray, too, as a preventive measure, but it doesn’t seem to do much good. The cream does the trick, but I have to apply it copiously and regularly.

Not long ago, I noticed a discoloration on my chest. It didn’t hurt or itch and it wasn’t raised, but the next time I was at my doctor’s office to review my ongoing blood pressure issues, I remembered to ask him about it. I opened my shirt. The doctor looked at it quickly. “That’s a fungus.” He said. “You mean like athlete’s foot?” I asked. “Yes.” He said. “Do you want me to give you some cream?”

Although I was relieved that I didn’t have skin cancer or some rare tropical disease, I was surprised that it was a fungus. After I thought about it for a minute, though, it made sense. We spend a lot of time being pinned on the mat, facing the floor, so it was logical that I could have picked up a fungus from lying on the mat on my chest.

Yesterday, for example, John Smith taught a class on Kokkyho and Kokkyunage, and there was a lot of pinning. At one point, I was training with Boris, who, as a Jujitsu enthusiast, tries to make sure that he has me pinned effectively and securely to the ground. I have very limber shoulders, however, and most people, including Boris, find it difficult to pin me securely enough to make me tap out.

Previously, in another class, although Boris appeared to have pinned me securely, I didn’t tap out. “Okay.” He said, contentedly, and he applied even more pressure. “But can you move?” To his consternation, I rolled out of the pin. Ever since then, he has tried applying increasingly severe pins to make sure I can’t move. Now, when it’s time for him to pin me, Boris applies the Pin of Death. The Pin of Death is a pin that Boris has devised from his Jujitsu background. It involves straddling me, sitting on my chest or face, and tying my arm in a pretzel.

Yesterday, after doing a Kokkyunage in yesterday’s class, Boris got me down on the ground. I waited patiently for him to pin me. As usual, he didn’t feel that the usual Ikkyu pin was sufficient. Boris threw one of his legs across my chest so that he was straddling me, and he prepared to administer the Pin of Death.

Boris is stocky and muscular. He took his nidan (2d degree black belt) a couple of months ago, and is an accomplished Aikidoist. He is strong and his techniques are powerful. I wouldn’t however, describe Boris as agile. Nevertheless, I was astounded by the alacrity with which he jumped up when I reached up under his hakama (the culotte-like pants worn by Aikidoists) and grabbed him by the balls. In fact, I don't recall ever seeing a man of his size move so quickly and with such agility as when he jumped off me. When I got up, laughing, Boris stood there, his face turning red. He was almost speechless. “D-d-dude.” He stuttered, shaking his head. “D-dude.”

I was very pleased with myself. On my way home, I called Keo, who believes in training realistically, with martial intent. I told him what happened. “Perfect.” Said Keo, amused. “He had it coming.”

When I got home, I told the story to my wife, too, who was equally delighted. After we had a good laugh, we got in bed. As Michaela prepared herself for bed, I lay back and applied the anti-fungal cream the doctor had given me to my chest. Michaela raised her eyebrows and studied me as she lay next to me. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“Remember that discoloration I had on my chest?” I said. “I showed it to the doctor today, and he gave me some cream for it.” “What kind of cream?” She asked. “It’s an anti-fungal cream.” I told her. The color drained from Michaela’s face, and she moved away from me. “You have a fungus on your chest?” She said. “That is definitely not the sexiest thing you’ve said to me.”

Michaela continued. “When I get in bed with my husband, that is so not what I want to hear.” I gave her a big hug and pressed my chest against her. Michaela objected vigorously and tried to push me away, but to no avail - I was applying the Pin of Death. "I don't want to catch your fungus!" She said. "Don't worry." I said. "I'll let you use my cream."

Kokkyuho

2008-03-11T21:19:00.000-07:00

Celebrating Gabe's shodan

2008-03-11T21:18:00.000-07:00

Deshis at the beach

2008-03-11T21:14:00.000-07:00

Baby Comes To Visit

2008-03-11T19:40:00.000-07:00

Normally, when I'm done with work, I call my wife, Michaela, on my cell phone as I drive to the dojo, which is just a few minutes away from my office. Michaela lives about an hour from my work and the dojo, so when I stay at the dojo, we stay in close contact by phone. Today, however, she had come downtown for a meeting, and called me to meet her when she was done.

Michaela was across the street at a hotel lounge, so I left work early and went to the lounge, where I met her and her friend for a drink. I was happy to see her - it's not often that she comes downtown. I gave her a big hug and a kiss, and then we sat together and made small talk with her friend.

After a while I left to go back to my office, where I had a little more work to do before I could go to the dojo. Before I left, since she was already downtown, I invited Michaela to stay at the dojo. I told her if she showed up after class, we could go out to dinner and she could spend the night with me. Michaela was non-committal - she usually likes to go home, preferring it over the frat-boy atmosphere of the dojo - so I wasn't optimistic about seeing her later that evening.

Once I got to the dojo, I joined the beginners class. When it was over, after a short break, I started training in the advanced class. I was practicing with Ryan, when I suddenly noticed Michaela sitting on a bench next to the mat, watching the class. I grinned and waved at her as I rolled head over heels. I hadn't really expected her to show up at the dojo, so I was excited to see her.

In my enthusiasm, my first thought was to do some high falls to show off. I always do my best to impress the Baby. Uncharacteristically, however, I had second thoughts. Michaela has been worried about my back, which I recently injured. It has slowly been getting better, and I'm making regularly visits to a physical therapist. Despite my physical therapist's previous employment experience with the Spanish Inquisition, my back is improving. It is, however, still sore.

Michaela has stated on several occasions that she does not like worrying about my back. In fact, she has said that she hates worrying about me doing high falls and hurting my back. The idea slowly dawned on me that perhaps doing high falls might not be the best way to impress Michaela. I reconsidered my first impulse and decided that I wouldn't risk Michaela's ire by doing any high falls. Instead, I finished class doing very careful forward rolls and backfalls.

After class, we formed a Circle around the shomen (the altar-like area at the front of the mat where a photo of O'Sensei, the founder of Aikido, hangs). When Michaela came over to join us for meditation, I made a space for her, carefully making sure that she sat on my right - in the position of seniority (we sit in "sempai-logical" order, or order of seniority, with the senior students on the right and the junior students on the left).

When class is over, I get Sensei a glass of water. After that, I check to make sure one of the other uchi deshis is folding Sensei's hakama, and then I usually practice suwariwaza (techniques performed on one's knees) with Boris or Ryan. I don't particularly like suwariwaza - it's hard on my toes and knees - but it's on my next test, and I want to be more comfortable with it by then.

Normally, when Boris and I finish practicing, we go out to get a movie and something to eat. After eating - often a slice of pizza and a beer - we come back to the dojo, where we start jumping rope for 20 minutes, before settling down to lift weights while watching a movie. We used to force Flojo to join us when we jumped rope, but lately, as soon as the jump ropes appear, Flojo disappears and busies himself in the kitchen until we're finished.

Since Michaela was here, I quickly got Sensei a glass of water, made sure that Aurora took Sensei's hakama, and, after kissing Michaela hello, went upstairs to change out of my gi (the white pajamas worn by martial artists) and hakama (the culotte-like pants worn by Aikidoists). Michaela asked Ryan and Dylan to join us for dinner, and we all went out to a nearby Mexican restaurant for margaritas and enchiladas. When we finished, we returned to the dojo and put a DVD of The Family Guy on as background entertainment while we jumped rope.

I jumped rope for about 8 minutes. I did okay, but I still trip up. "I want to try jumping rope." Said Michaela. "I used to do that a lot when I was in 3d grade." I gave her the rope. Michaela started jumping. First she skipped effortlessly in place. Then she crossed her hands back and forth a few times. For good measure, she started twirling the rope backwards, and then, as if that wasn't enough, she crossed her hands back and forth while twirling the rope backwards. "That's not so hard." She said, as she handed me the rope. "Time for bed." I said.

Shihonage

2008-03-01T12:27:00.000-08:00

Mopping the mat

2008-03-01T12:23:00.000-08:00

A Deshi meeting in living room

2008-03-01T12:21:00.000-08:00

Just Show Up

2008-03-01T11:39:00.000-08:00

As deshis, one of our responsibilities is to train with beginners who join the dojo. We train regularly in the beginner classes. If any student needs extra practice outside class, we make ourselves available to train with them, and to help them get ready for their upcoming tests.

It seems that for every student who reaches shodan (black belt), thousands of students sign up to take Aikido classes. Beginners join all the time, and there's no way of knowing who's going to stick with the training. it. Some are in good shape already; others are overweight and out of shape. Some are athletic and have done dance or gymnastics - some even have a black belt in another martial art; others have led primarily sedentary lives.

It also seems that there's no way of knowing who's going to be good at Aikido. Some new students are very coordinated and pick up the basic moves in no time. Others are awkward, inflexible, and struggle with every move and step. But there's one easy way to get good at Aikido - show up for class. No matter how talented a student appears to be when they first join the class, or how quickly they might pick things up when moves are demonstrated to them,, the only way a student will get good at Aikido is if they train regularly.

Unfortunately, it's just a fact that after a while, most people stop coming to class. There are a lot of reasons why students don't continue. I know them (because I've used them myself): I hurt, I'm tired, there are other things to do, I want a drink, I'm lazy, I'm not in the mood. I also know first-hand how tempting it can be to not go to class - especially when you're sore from falling hard on an unforgiving mat.

For some reason, newcomers think that falling on the mat isn't going to hurt. The first time they take a fall they get a shock. Our mat is not very giving, and if you don't fall right, it definitely hurts. It isn't long before the beginners are sore and bruised. I tell them to pay special attention to their falls and rolls - "Go slowly and learn how to fall right, because if you don't, it's going to hurt, and it won't be any fun." I know, because 2 weeks after I moved into the dojo, I was black and blue, and could barely move.

When I first started taking classes, it felt like my body had corners when I rolled. Each time I rolled, every one of those corners got bashed. Before too long, however, I gradually learned to round out those corners - or maybe they just get worn down by crashing into the floor over and over. Eventually though, with practice, the rolls became a little easier. All of a sudden, one day, I realized, "this is fun!" The next thing I knew, I was flowing easily around the mat. That wasn't always the case, however.

Donny signed up a few months ago. Donny was a young man in his early 20s and in very good shape. When I signed him up I explained that if he didn't like aikido, it, he could get his money back. During the class, I showed him how to do a forward roll. After a few days Donny came back and said he wasn't going to continue. "It's the rolls." He said. "They make me dizzy." I tried to tell him that it would get better. "It happens to everyone." I told him. "You'll be fine. It just takes a little practice." He wouldn't be convinced. "It ruins my whole day." Said Donny. I gave him back his money.

People often comment on how graceful Aikidoists appear as they fly through the air. It's doubly frustrating to watch the advanced students flow gracefully around the mat, and then, when it's your turn, and you are stepping onto the mat for the first time, you can't figure out how to step in tenkan and irimi (the 2 most basic steps used in Aikido).

When I started, I felt awkward and clumsy, and was frustrated as I tried to do what seemed to be the simplest things, while everyone else appeared to be floated effortlessly around the mat. It's not unusual for a student to feel that they're just not cut out for Aikido.

Betty signed up a few months ago. Betty was a middle-aged lady (younger than me) who wanted to learn Aikido. Betty broke down in tears on her first day, and had to be coaxed back out of the women's dressing room to give it another try. I told her that everyone has the same experience, and that I could guarantee that she would improve quickly, but she stopped coming after only a few more visits.

I try to reassure the beginners that all the things they're doing - being too stiff, trying to muscle their way through techniques, getting confused about which foot to move - are normal, and that everyone has the same challenges. "Really?" They say, surprised to hear that others experience the same problems. I don't think they always believe me, but the fact is, that I understand exactly how they feel, because I was worse than most.

When I started, I had a shodan in Kenpo, that I had earned many years ago. Before that, when I was a teenager, I did Shotokan (a hard Okinawan style of Karate). But my experience in martial arts didn't help me at all when I started doing Aikido. If anything, my previous experience got in my way. My stances were much too wide. I was much too stiff.

"Relax!!" Dean used to shout at me. "I'm trying." I said. Relax more!" He said. I tried to use my upper body strength. "Relax your shoulders! Use your hips!" Dean said. I could never remember whether to move my right foot or my left, and usually decided to move the wrong one. My ukemi (the art of falling) was terrible - I was stiff, and I didn't blend at all with the nage (the person performing the technique). The only thing I had going for me was a little insight into my own character. "I'm not very smart, and I don't pick things up easily." I thought to myself, "But, if I just show up everyday, maybe, eventually, it will rub off on me."

Now, I join the beginners class each evening to help out. I try to pair up with the newest students to help them. Every week a new beginner joins class. It's not always easy to stay enthusiastic - especially when I know that most of the beginners aren't going to stick around - but I've learned to stay positive and remind myself that each student could be the one who will stay for years, excel, and become a devoted and accomplished Aikidoist. In any case, I enjoy helping them, and it gives me a chance to work on my own Aikido. I learned my lesson the hard way, however.

Once, in weapons class, I was paired with an older beginner who, although he has been at the dojo a long time, hasn't made much improvement. He often seems confused and just can't follow directions. I was just going through the motions, while waiting patiently for him to move. Sensei saw me and corrected me.

"You shouldn't walk through the form just because he doesn't know what to do." She said. "You should always do your best and practice with intention." After that, no matter who I was training with, I tried to do my best - even if it was in very slow motion. If I did it slowly, it just gave me that much more time to concentrate on my form. I also learned not to baby the beginners too much.

When training with new people in the beginners class, I was always careful not to throw them very hard, knowing that they were still learning their basic falls and rolls. Ace, an instructor, watched me. "You're being very nice." He said. He continued. "You're being too nice." He elaborated. "You're being EXCESSIVELY nice. The new students have to feel what Aikido is about, and if you don't take their balance and throw them, they won't feel what's going on." After that, I tried to make sure that I actually did the techniques, while still making sure that the beginners didn't fall too hard.

A couple of days ago, Ryan came to class. He hasn't been in class as much since he took his nidan (2d degree black belt) a month ago. "I kind of felt like I needed to take a break since my test." He said. "Do you ever have trouble staying motivated?" I thought for a moment. "Yeah." I said. "Sometimes I don't feel like going to class." "So what do you do?" Asked Ryan. "I just show up." I said.

I may not always feel like going to class, but once it starts, I have fun. Showing up is the hard part. That's why I decided to become an uchi deshi. I'm lazy, and I know I'm lazy. I knew that when I was done with work I wouldn't want to go to class. Once I got home it would be so much easier to put my feet up, watch tv, and have a beer.

Now, however, as a deshi, when I get off work and go to my room at the dojo, I have to walk right by the mat. No matter how much I don't want to train, I remind myself that it's only 1 hour or so. It's not that much. Once class is over, (after I'm through jumping rope) I can put my feet up, watch a movie, and drink my beer.

Shihonage

2008-02-23T10:50:00.000-08:00