Training in Thailand: The Heart of the Matter

Guest post by Sarah Tynen

Meg and I with Professor Olavo.

On our first day of training in Thailand, we walked into the mat room. It was a large, air-conditioned, L-shaped room with wall-to-wall cushy judo mats and motivating phrases such as “For just one day in your life, train with the will to die.” plastered on the wall. I scanned the room, quickly surveying the situation. Were there any other women?

In a class of about 20 men, there was one other girl there that day, a white belt in a pink gi, her long, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Near the end of our first training session on that Monday afternoon, I rolled with her once. She was tough: aggressive, feisty, smart, and technical. I caught her in one submission, a triangle.

After we rolled, we lined up against the wall, waiting to be chosen for the next roll, and she turned to me. “How long are you going to be here?” she asked with a big smile on her face. “Just a week,” I replied. “Oh, not long enough! That’s so short… there’s so much I could learn from you, it’s a shame you’re not staying longer.” I just grinned in response. Girl power for the win. Unfortunately I didn’t see her again after that day.

The next day during the noon session, a petite girl with four stripes on her blue belt (“That’s basically a purple belt,” Meg whispered to me during the water break) showed up to class. That day we were practicing the bow-and-arrow choke from standing back control, and the girl was paired up with a short but very large man. I ran up to her and asked if she’d like to join Meg and me. She said yes and joined us. She was friendly and warm. She then told us she had been training at PTT for a couple years. We'll say her name was Leslie. While we were practicing the move, I noticed that although she looked petite, she was actually very strong. Her jiujitsu was tough and technical.

After practicing that move for a while, we had sparring time, but neither Meg nor I got a chance to roll with Leslie. After we shook hands at the end of class, I asked Leslie if she’d like to roll. “Sorry, I’m really tired today,” she said. Then she added, “To be honest, I don’t roll with women. I don’t know why, I just have a phobia of rolling with other women.”

Say what now? You have a phobia of rolling with other women?

She explained, “I’ve had some bad experiences, and I just get really nervous. I just don’t know how to roll with other women, so I just don’t do it. It’s a serious phobia. I’m terrified of it.”

At that moment, Meg came running up and said, “Seriously, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m so glad you’re here.” Then Leslie broke the news to her: “I was just telling Sarah, I have a phobia of rolling with women. You can ask Professor Olavo. I never roll with women.” Olavo came over and related a story to us about how one time Leslie made another girl cry during a roll.

Somehow amidst the conversation, I clearly remember saying, “That’s totally fine if you’re not comfortable with it, I don’t want to pressure you,” but then I suggested flow rolling, so she said okay. We started flow rolling and about 30 seconds in, she said, “But you’re not even trying, you’re not even resisting me.” I replied, “Yeah, I’m flow rolling.”

She looked puzzled and said, “I guess I don’t really know how to flow roll.” So I suggested we could roll with more resistance, and she said okay. While we were rolling, things escalated really fast. She was going 100%, almost spazzing out on me, strong, aggressive, fast, but also a bit out of control. Before I knew it, her knee hit my jaw hard. She immediately stopped and apologized, “See this is why I don’t roll with women. It freaks me out. I get scared and anxious and then people end up getting hurt.” I shook hands with her, said it was all good, and told her not to worry. Feeling somewhat awkward, I excused myself and headed out.

Our Phuket Top Team nogi class.

On our walk back to the hotel, Meg kept saying over and over, “I just don’t understand how or why this is a thing.” Indeed, it was very strange. This is how I understood it. I have to admit that it is different and nerve-wracking to roll with other women for me sometimes, especially women of the same rank as myself. If she’s a white belt, then I don’t worry and I focus on technique. If she’s a purple belt, I know she’s going to dominate me.

But if she’s a blue belt, there’s a little inkling of competition, of anxiety to prove myself and my belt level (though I realized this is an unhealthy attitude, I have to admit I feel this way sometimes). I can’t make the excuse that she’s stronger than me or bigger than me. It’s woman to woman. My most intense rolls are always against other women, because women don’t hold anything back when they roll with me. And so as a result, rolling with other women is always an intense physical and emotional experience--a test of willpower and strength, as well as a contest of pure technique. My most technical and most physically intense rolls are almost always with other women. And if I get submitted by another blue belt, I have to admit that my ego walks away a little bruised. I think that might be the situation for Leslie, but 10 times worse.

Leslie showed up to class two days later. When Olavo asked her if she wanted to roll with Meg or me, she said no. That was the last we saw of her.

We were disappointed there weren’t any other advanced women to roll with at PTT, but we didn’t let that ruin our week. Professor Olavo was a passionate coach, who taught with enthusiasm and vigor (even though he had an ear infection). He showed a few techniques every class and then would let us practice on our own, walking around the room, talking through the moves step by step, meticulously correcting our mistakes, and helping us perfect our technique.

He embodied compassion in a very real way: even though he knew Meg and I were only going to be there for a week, he taught us as if we were family. His compassion while teaching touched both of us and made a big impact on our positive experience at PTT.

The week was physically exhausting but mentally refreshing. Having the time to train jiutjitsu two to three times a day while being surrounded by friendly, like-minded people with similar goals and interests was a really cool immersion experience.

Besides one negative experience with a substitute no-gi coach, who consistently and blatantly completely ignored Meg and me during class, most of the other guys on the mat were friendly and welcoming. We made a couple friends, got lunch together, and hung out at the pool at our hotel, chatting about training and jiujitsu. After one week of training full-time, we were so exhausted that we agreed one to two weeks of full-time training was enough. Though there were some other people there who had been training full-time at PTT for over a year and planned to stay longer, living the dream.

Potential next stop? Brazil.

Much-deserved beach day after a great week at PTT.

Sarah has been training jiujitsu since 2011 and is currently doing research for her PhD in China while coaching jiujitsu on the side.

Like this post? Share it on Facebook. Love this blog? Subscribe or follow by email via the links in the top right column!

Email us at liz.meg223@gmail.com with your questions, and we will post our answers in the next blog post!