There is a Filipino man (Mr. Olivar) who my instructor has been encouraging to teach us some things this past week. He is 70-something and has black belts in Shorin-Ryu Karate and Judo. It just amazes me how strong he is. He is the stereotypical little, old, Asian master who can pulverize you with his pinky finger. My instructor, Mr Steinman, told him I had trained in Jujitsu, so he singled me out for his demonstration "uki". Fortunately, my body still remembers how to land when flipped over the hip or shoulder. The pads they have are much thinner and harder than the ones we had in Jujitsu. Some people were trying to do it and I winced watching some students fall on their elbows and knees instead of their sides and shoulders. I remember the desire to reach down to break my fall, but the only thing you'll break is your arm. Also, some students, who suddenly find themselves horizontal in the air, try to turn over and land on all fours like cats. But a wrist joint or a knee does not hold up too well when hitting the ground with your entire body weight and falling momentum over it. This is why the first few weeks or months in Judo and Jujitsu focus on rolling and falling, so that you know how to protect your own body during practice.
So I was the star pupil because of previous training. But sometimes previous training gets in the way. Last night I didn't do so well. I was very tired when I left work and my mind had a hard time focusing. The instructor had us do a simple form, but starting in different directions, with alternating rhythm, and on the left side (we've mostly practiced on the right side). I got pretty turned around and started high blocking when I was supposed to inner-forearm block. Mr. Steinman laughed and said, "I didn't even see that and you didn't even look guilty!" Then he started us across the training hall telling us we could hit or kick however we wanted to. Then he said we would probably notice some patterns. I knew what he was getting at and tried very hard to mix kicks and strikes and pivot in different ways as I worked my way across the hall, but I felt terribly awkward and my arms and legs felt very clumsy with no pre-set pattern to follow. In truth, spontaneity and adaptability is the ultimate goal. Patterns, forms, kata all just teach your body how to move. In the end, sparring, or even a real fight, looks nothing like the training exercises. But the power, accuracy, and speed are there.
Next Mr. Steinman rolled a stand-up punching bag into the middle and had us take turns going crazy on it for 2 minutes or so, just attacking it however we wanted. I felt horribly awkward and exposed again, with everyone watching me this time. But I did my best to mix things up and still be accurate and focused. I noticed as each student had a turn that they all got so tired they could hardly punch or kick with any power after over a minute of solid punches and kicks. It didn't matter if they were 50's or teens. I didn't seem to have that problem at all, and I started wondering why. Is it my healthy diet? I know I'm out of shape. Why is it that I can still hit and kick hard longer than most of them? Anyway, this could be an advantage in sparring, if they slow down and I still have speed and accuracy. On a side note, the guys two ranks above me were more precise and neat about their moves than I was.
Mr. Olivar then had us do partner stretches, with one person's back against the wall and their leg on the other person's shoulder. We did these a lot in Jonesboro Kenpo, and I was much more flexible at the time. Again, he chose me for demonstration, and I thought "Uh oh! This is NOT my strong area!" The little, old man hiked my leg up and my butt came away from the wall. "Get against the wall." He said. "I'm sorry, sir, I can't. I'm too stiff!" Mr. Steinman was watching at a distance and chuckling. Then he turned my foot sideways to immitate a knife edge kick at head level. I had removed my martial arts shoes when we started practicing partner drills to avoid stepping on toes, and I was in socks on a hardwood floor. My hip joints reached their limit and my ground foot slipped out. I landed on my side against the wall, one foot still on his shoulder and the other shot between his feet. He got somebody more flexible for his next demonstration. "Flexibility is probably my biggest weakness", I told a fellow student. Mr. Steinman overheard me and looked over at me and nodded, "Me too!"
It's very interesting to note that I can rip off a simple form with ease, until I get thrown into a disorienting situation or have to do it in a different way, like use the opposite arm or leg. From a self-defense perspective, this tells me that knowing how to pull the moves isn't enough. It has to become automatic, which means LOTS of practice! Also, I noticed that when I am shown something new, my brain understands very quickly what I need to do and the meaning or purpose behind it. It's my body that must be taught, and this takes more time. I've heard it called "muscle memory", like when a tire rolls over the same surface over and over until it creates a rut that it naturally falls into. It's very easy for me to do something I've practiced alot, but very hard to modify the mechanics, like I have to do now with things I studied and learned on my own, but learning to do them better with an instructor.
I've learned 4 new techniques, or self-defense sequences, this week. While I have been shown about 9 or so, they are still shakey and I'll have to practice a lot more to prepare for my first belt test. The number of requirements for one rank advance is staggering compared to other styles I've trained in. But I understand more fully now why Kenpo experts are so effective and versatile. This has been a humbling experience. I was proud of my diverse training background, and it did instil in me good basics, but it doesn't hold a candle to what these guys do! I am weak and slow, but through practice I can improve, and that's what I try to keep in mind.
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