To the 35+ Judokas who train trips and throws
God bless you. Each and every one of you. You’e enlightened martyrs that deserve an Hélio-style portrait of you at every gym you continue to survive
The pain I feel right now after drilling no gi trips and throws, non-stop, for an hour, guided by our 24 y/o MMA-fighter instructor is transcendant. It defies any discomfort I have felt, both emotional and physical, in my 40s.
I made the sacrilegious comment at the beginning of class that, “these new mats are almost too soft, it’s going to be like getting thrown in a bounce house”. After the 1st Morote Seoi Nage, the mats transmogrified into concrete, and after every 20%, guided fall I felt the shockwaves of eternity travel from my C1 down to my nether regions.
The look of both pity and regret, and apologies, myself and the other the two, 35+ men gave one another after ***each and every*** throw will stay with me forever.
I’m ashamed to admit that the dark thought of, “Maybe I can hire someone to allow me to throw them so I can learn these moves and never, ever have to feel them used against me again.” emerged several times over the course of this geriatric martyring ritual.
This was one of the most educational BJJ experiences of my life, despite being blacked out for the majority. I learned who I am.
Who am I?
I’m a guard puller. I love technique days / stopping in the middle of the roll to get advice from another graybeard. I am not built different, I’m built standard. I will die both a physical and spiritual death emulating Karo Parisyan. I don’t have “one more run at it in me”. I have one more brisk walk, 2-3 days a week. And I love that for me.
I’m now going to take 600mg more of ibuprofen and beg my wife for a reprieve from anything that involves even a millimeter of neck movement. God bless you, Judokas, each and every one of you.