I got my second white stripe today.
And here is the funny thing. It is the second stripe I have gotten, and it is the second time my name got called and I was completely surprised (although I was called Chris today, not Von). This time it was Professor Marcello who called it out. I will not pretend there is no thrill in that, because there is. It feels good. I felt proud standing there. That part is real and I am not going to talk myself out of it.
Congrats!, black belt is right around the corner. ~ Mike (best quote so far 🙂)
But right underneath the pride was this other thing I keep bumping into, and if I am being honest it is the truer story of where I am right now. I do not feel ready. It feels like it is coming too fast. Like I have not earned it yet and I need to work harder before I deserve the recognition. I know it is not my call. I do not get to decide when I get a stripe or when I get promoted, and honestly that is a mercy, because if it were up to me I would probably never think I was ready.
The feeling that does not go away
Here is the part that has stuck with me. That not-ready feeling is not just a beginner thing.
A while back I rolled with a guy named Andy. He is the one who broke my finger, not on purpose, just the way it goes sometimes. Andy is a late-stage blue belt getting ready for his purple, which is a serious step up from where I am. And he said the exact same thing I have been feeling. He said he does not feel ready. He feels like he has so much left to learn.
That stopped me. Because if a guy that far ahead of me feels it too, then the feeling is not a sign that I am behind. It is a sign that I am actually paying attention. The better you get, the more clearly you can see everything you still do not know. So maybe the not-ready feeling never really goes away. Maybe it just changes shape as you climb. Jocko Willink talks about this, about how your first few hundred training sessions are basically just getting humbled over and over, and only way down the line does it start to ease up. That tracks with everything I am experiencing.
Rolling slow with Jay
The best part of today was getting to roll with a guy named Jay. He is stoic and super chill, a really good teacher, and just fun to be around. I got lucky I got to work with him, and I learned a ton.
But here is what is interesting. I could not tell you one specific move he showed me that unlocked it. It was not like that. It was more that a couple of little things just clicked, the way they sometimes do in any sport. You hear something a hundred times, and then one day someone says it a little differently, or shows it from a slightly different angle, and suddenly it lands. I have had that in wakeboarding and other sports my whole life and I still do not fully understand how it works. It is just fun when it happens.
And I think I know why it happened today. My ribs are jacked up right now, so I physically could not go fast. So we went slow. Really slow. It is the thing they call flow rolling, where you are not trying to win and you are not burning any energy, you are just feeling how the roll moves and how the positions connect. And going that slow quieted my mind enough that I could actually process what was happening instead of just surviving it.
Which, when I sit with it, is the same lesson I keep learning in this sport over and over. Slow down. It was the whole point of the white belt spaz thing. It is the whole point of flow. And now it turns out it is also how I learn best. Go slow, quiet the mind, and the information actually gets in.
Rolling with Jay also showed me something about my own game. I do not spend nearly enough time on the ground, on my back, with grips, feet up, working from something like a modified butterfly guard. I have been avoiding the bottom, and my bottom game is soft because of it. So that is the thing I need to change. I need to train differently and stop hiding from the positions I am worst at.
Sore basically everywhere
The other big epiphany of the week is that I am injured all the freaking time.
Let me run the tape. I broke my ring finger about a month and a half or two months ago, and that one is mostly healed now. Then about two weeks after that I tweaked the pinky on my other hand rolling with a young blue belt. Then a few weeks after that I tweaked my back rolling with Ian, the black belt who comes in on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Great guy, and he does not mind going a little harder, which I actually appreciate, because he never once pushes past the line. And then this past Saturday I tweaked my ribs rolling with a different Ian, a brown belt, over at Master Nelson's class. First time rolling with him.
So right now I am sore just about everywhere. Not my hands so much anymore, but the ribs, the back, the whole abdomen, all of it. I was laughing about it earlier, because the honest truth is you are pretty much sore and banged up the entire time you do this. That is just the deal. And I think the injuries are actually part of why slowing down matters so much. The beat-up body is another teacher. It forces you to be smarter, to move with more control, to stop muscling everything.
Humbled on purpose
When I add it all up, that is really the theme of this whole stretch. Jiu-jitsu is a continuous state of humility.
I keep expecting there to be an end. Some moment where I arrive, where I finally know what I am doing, where I feel ready. And the mat just keeps gently letting me know I am not there yet. It humbles my ego with the not-ready feeling, and it humbles my body with the constant nicks and tweaks, both at the same time.
But I do not think that is a bad thing. I think it might be the whole point. The humility is not something you graduate out of. It is the thing that keeps you coming back, keeps you learning, keeps you honest.
Two stripes. Sore all over. Still not ready. And somehow, still excited to go back.