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Aches and Pains
Oct. 21st, 2005 07:23 amAikido.
It looks so effortless. It isn't. It isn't the effort of lifting weights, nor of running, nor even of long bicycle rides.
No, I think the better comparison is to walking on sand. It doens't feel as though one is doing large amounts of work, but the next day there are all sorts of tender places.
This is a very good dojo. Not only was a I predisposed to liking it because of its ancestry (the Sensei of this dojo studied under the sesnei of my last/first dojo) but the membership is very warm. Right now, because I can't find a gi, of the sort I want (the gi is the funny suit people wear when training. I like a judo style, which is heavier, in preference to a karate style, which always leaves me feeling as if I'd put pajamas on, and then gotten up to get in a fight) no one seems to care much that I am in sweats and a t shirt.
It's a little thing. Last night I almost didn't go (classes I can attend meet thrice a week, and Tuesday nights I usually have to cook, so nipping out for a class, or two, isn't all that feasible, even if I wasn't part of the host for our little shindigs).
Wedsnday, you see, I overdid it. It was a small class, six people. And very basic (Wedsnday is the designated basic techniques class). I have forgotten a lot, but recall enough that spending an hour going over fundamentals felt a tad constrained. Not that I don't need them; we all need them. Falling is as basic as it gets (if you can't fall, well you get hurt). Most people take about three months to learn to fall well. Dan, with whom I had a wonderful session last night, says it took him six months, and he had to go back and start from scratch after four months of doing it not quite right (and that is one of the strengths of this dojo. They appreciate the variation in form. Yes, someone should have noticed he wasn't really comfortable [and I don't know the specifics, only that he said it took him six months. For all I know someone saw him, still, falling a little poorly, and spoke to him, or he decided he needed to restart and did it all himself, I suspect a mix of the two, but I digress).
But after an hour of falling, and some simple catch and release moves (it's kind of like fishing; but as the fish would like it, someone catches you, and you release them), I was feeling just warmed up. Last Thursday I left after the Basic lesson, this Wedsnday I wanted more. But I'd not been approved by the Mary (the sensei) since she's only seen me at one lesson, and that with some 15 people on the mat.
The dojo literature says it takes about 30 days of training to move to General. Mostly so one can learn to fall. I learned to fall when I was twelve. I took Judo. Judo is about falling. Some of Judo involves some very hard falling. Judo classes teach falling. I know how to fall.
Michelle (the sensei on Wedsnday) was teaching some soft ukemi (ukemi is falling), which she, and some of the others, had gone to Santa Barbara to study the previous Wedsnday. I asked, since the class was so small (only four people on the mat) if I might practice the falls. She decided I might. She let me stay for the whole class. We worked. In fact we did a lot of advanced work, brown belt (the two stages below black, what are called 2nd and 1st kyu. Students start at sixth kyu, and progress to lower numbers, until they become black belts, at which point they become dan, and begin to count to higher numbers, again, I digress).
So yesterday I ached. My legs ached, from the squatting, and the hip-turning; from the thighs, which is what releases the person who attacks you. My arms hurt, from the catching; because that is how one traps the energy one moves to the thighs. My back hurt, from being released, thrown, falling; sometimes better than other times, and getting up again.
I wasn't sure about going in. Might it not be better to wait until Saturday? Then again, we have a horse to pick up, Maia might not have a schedule which allows for me to spend an hour and-a-half of a Saturday morning trainging. Further, Wedsnday and Thursday are my good nights to train. Monday is Advanced, which I am not ready for, and won't be for years; I can go to weapons on Monday night, but that's not the same. Saturdays are iffy (we, for example, will be out of town for three of the next five, and that will be four if we leave at the our of ugly to get the new horse).
If I'm going to do this I need to build a routine.
I went.
And warming up hurt. Rolls reminded me that I am slight. My spine moves along the mat when I roll. The soft ukemi are soft, once one learns them, but the learning of them involves falling wrong, which isn't so soft. Muscles were tight. But the class... Michelle was teaching again, and it built on last night. More soft ukemi. Forward rolls from the inside arm, not the outside. And the mat was packed. It was like dancing on a crowded floor. Dan, of whom I spoke above, and I did the first technique, and I had it inside out. It worked (there is a lot of room for variation in aikido, it's more like jazz than symphony, and good dojos let that attitude prevail, which makes for a very energetic training environment). Then we switched and I, as the person being sent to the mat, could see I'd done it wrong, and we talked (as he twisted my arm behind my head, and then untwisted it so I had to go face down on the floor) about the ways in which our techiniques differed. Mine still worked, he'd not had the chance to get away, but...
And then we changed partners, and did a related techinique. Again, memories led to my doing it not quite the same. Michelle said it was a more advanced (which probably means doing it wrong is more likely to cause injury; not that it's fundamentally harder to do) and we worked on how to do the softer version.
When the session was done, we gathered up to say what we felt like, only Mary (who showed up late) took some time to say thank you to Jean, who had been training with us for about three weeks (I'd seen him three of the four times I'd been). He was on vacation, visiting he son, who teaches (if I understood him) literary analysis at CalPoly. He's from Belgium and living/working in the West Indies. While he was here, he found the Dojo. He's very good, and of a different school. She was right, his being with us made the dojo a richer place.
Mary said it was ok for me to stay for the general class (most of which was a sort of business meeting of the dojo, I could have stayed for that regardless) and, by circumstance was my partner twice. That was great. I love working with a really skilled partner, one doesn't have to wait, and they see to it that one does, even one's mistakes; like my crossed techniques, the work so that it works, or not.
Today I ache less. I also (as was the case after Saturday, and Thursday last) feel looser, and more "centered" (yes, it's mushy talk, and seems new-agey, touchy feely to me to, but there you go).
This ended up much longer than my meaning to say I had a good time at the dojo last night; and mention that Jean had been with us.
I hope he comes to visit before Maia and I head back south again.
It looks so effortless. It isn't. It isn't the effort of lifting weights, nor of running, nor even of long bicycle rides.
No, I think the better comparison is to walking on sand. It doens't feel as though one is doing large amounts of work, but the next day there are all sorts of tender places.
This is a very good dojo. Not only was a I predisposed to liking it because of its ancestry (the Sensei of this dojo studied under the sesnei of my last/first dojo) but the membership is very warm. Right now, because I can't find a gi, of the sort I want (the gi is the funny suit people wear when training. I like a judo style, which is heavier, in preference to a karate style, which always leaves me feeling as if I'd put pajamas on, and then gotten up to get in a fight) no one seems to care much that I am in sweats and a t shirt.
It's a little thing. Last night I almost didn't go (classes I can attend meet thrice a week, and Tuesday nights I usually have to cook, so nipping out for a class, or two, isn't all that feasible, even if I wasn't part of the host for our little shindigs).
Wedsnday, you see, I overdid it. It was a small class, six people. And very basic (Wedsnday is the designated basic techniques class). I have forgotten a lot, but recall enough that spending an hour going over fundamentals felt a tad constrained. Not that I don't need them; we all need them. Falling is as basic as it gets (if you can't fall, well you get hurt). Most people take about three months to learn to fall well. Dan, with whom I had a wonderful session last night, says it took him six months, and he had to go back and start from scratch after four months of doing it not quite right (and that is one of the strengths of this dojo. They appreciate the variation in form. Yes, someone should have noticed he wasn't really comfortable [and I don't know the specifics, only that he said it took him six months. For all I know someone saw him, still, falling a little poorly, and spoke to him, or he decided he needed to restart and did it all himself, I suspect a mix of the two, but I digress).
But after an hour of falling, and some simple catch and release moves (it's kind of like fishing; but as the fish would like it, someone catches you, and you release them), I was feeling just warmed up. Last Thursday I left after the Basic lesson, this Wedsnday I wanted more. But I'd not been approved by the Mary (the sensei) since she's only seen me at one lesson, and that with some 15 people on the mat.
The dojo literature says it takes about 30 days of training to move to General. Mostly so one can learn to fall. I learned to fall when I was twelve. I took Judo. Judo is about falling. Some of Judo involves some very hard falling. Judo classes teach falling. I know how to fall.
Michelle (the sensei on Wedsnday) was teaching some soft ukemi (ukemi is falling), which she, and some of the others, had gone to Santa Barbara to study the previous Wedsnday. I asked, since the class was so small (only four people on the mat) if I might practice the falls. She decided I might. She let me stay for the whole class. We worked. In fact we did a lot of advanced work, brown belt (the two stages below black, what are called 2nd and 1st kyu. Students start at sixth kyu, and progress to lower numbers, until they become black belts, at which point they become dan, and begin to count to higher numbers, again, I digress).
So yesterday I ached. My legs ached, from the squatting, and the hip-turning; from the thighs, which is what releases the person who attacks you. My arms hurt, from the catching; because that is how one traps the energy one moves to the thighs. My back hurt, from being released, thrown, falling; sometimes better than other times, and getting up again.
I wasn't sure about going in. Might it not be better to wait until Saturday? Then again, we have a horse to pick up, Maia might not have a schedule which allows for me to spend an hour and-a-half of a Saturday morning trainging. Further, Wedsnday and Thursday are my good nights to train. Monday is Advanced, which I am not ready for, and won't be for years; I can go to weapons on Monday night, but that's not the same. Saturdays are iffy (we, for example, will be out of town for three of the next five, and that will be four if we leave at the our of ugly to get the new horse).
If I'm going to do this I need to build a routine.
I went.
And warming up hurt. Rolls reminded me that I am slight. My spine moves along the mat when I roll. The soft ukemi are soft, once one learns them, but the learning of them involves falling wrong, which isn't so soft. Muscles were tight. But the class... Michelle was teaching again, and it built on last night. More soft ukemi. Forward rolls from the inside arm, not the outside. And the mat was packed. It was like dancing on a crowded floor. Dan, of whom I spoke above, and I did the first technique, and I had it inside out. It worked (there is a lot of room for variation in aikido, it's more like jazz than symphony, and good dojos let that attitude prevail, which makes for a very energetic training environment). Then we switched and I, as the person being sent to the mat, could see I'd done it wrong, and we talked (as he twisted my arm behind my head, and then untwisted it so I had to go face down on the floor) about the ways in which our techiniques differed. Mine still worked, he'd not had the chance to get away, but...
And then we changed partners, and did a related techinique. Again, memories led to my doing it not quite the same. Michelle said it was a more advanced (which probably means doing it wrong is more likely to cause injury; not that it's fundamentally harder to do) and we worked on how to do the softer version.
When the session was done, we gathered up to say what we felt like, only Mary (who showed up late) took some time to say thank you to Jean, who had been training with us for about three weeks (I'd seen him three of the four times I'd been). He was on vacation, visiting he son, who teaches (if I understood him) literary analysis at CalPoly. He's from Belgium and living/working in the West Indies. While he was here, he found the Dojo. He's very good, and of a different school. She was right, his being with us made the dojo a richer place.
Mary said it was ok for me to stay for the general class (most of which was a sort of business meeting of the dojo, I could have stayed for that regardless) and, by circumstance was my partner twice. That was great. I love working with a really skilled partner, one doesn't have to wait, and they see to it that one does, even one's mistakes; like my crossed techniques, the work so that it works, or not.
Today I ache less. I also (as was the case after Saturday, and Thursday last) feel looser, and more "centered" (yes, it's mushy talk, and seems new-agey, touchy feely to me to, but there you go).
This ended up much longer than my meaning to say I had a good time at the dojo last night; and mention that Jean had been with us.
I hope he comes to visit before Maia and I head back south again.
