By Meg
I have not trained jiujitsu in almost two months. When I moved home from China, I decided to take a break for several reasons: injuries (I can now turn my head all the way to the right and almost so on the left!), wallet (going from paying nothing to $150 a month feels like lopping off an arm), and the last reason, the guilty confession--I burned out on jiujitsu.
At the time, I didn't want to admit I was burnt out. Seemed like a sin. I was a coach and part of gym management, but I dreaded going to the gym. I wanted to relax and work on other interests. I wanted to look over my shoulder without having to turn my entire body.
Looking back with some perspective, I’m cutting myself some slack. A handful of factors contributed to the burn-out, starting with the original founder and head coach leaving the summer before. The person who had provided motivation, encouragement, and drive left a hole in the gym atmosphere.
Afterwards, two other teachers shared the responsibility of teaching advanced classes. Although each very talented, the techniques became muddled. One day we learned single leg X guard, and the next we learned De la Riva. My brain did not compute, and under the lack of pattern and repetition, I stopped picking up new techniques.
Early in 2015, the club moved to a new, nicer location. We added classes, and I picked up two beginner's classes to teach. Coaching others and watching them succeed provided the positivity and enjoyment I'd been missing.
Advanced classes, on the other hand, shrank to include just a few people. The lightest, compared to my 53 kilos (121 lbs), was still 20 kilos (44 lbs) heavier. After receiving a few more injuries, I stopped rolling with all except one safe partner.
With my interest at an all-time low, I did what any person would do: I questioned my love for jiujitsu.
My friend, Sarah, and I took a BJJ-intensive trip to Thailand (read all about it here and here) in August, where we only trained. We trained two times a day, at least four hours a day, gi and no-gi. I challenged myself to train with everyone. I gained some much-needed training with Sarah, someone of a similar build, mindset, and level.
Most importantly, in Thailand I trained under Olavo Abreu. This coach corrected my technique, adjusted movements for my size, and passionately encouraged me during rolls (in a somewhat unintelligible Brazilian accent.) Slowly, my interest showed its face again. I felt excitement for jiujitsu that I hadn't felt in over a year, and I fell in love with it again that week.
Following this trip, I decided to focus on coaching until returning to America in November. Coaching the once-awkward-and-uncoordinated-noob to a basic level, and then watching them armbar some newer noob made me excited and content. Adjusting techniques for size and injuries brought me new understanding of the moves and leverage. There are better ways to learn jiujitsu than getting pancaked under a 90-kilo (200-lb) man.
Back to the present. For now, I'm letting myself take this break. My husband and I train together occasionally, but I am focused on other goals at the moment, like returning to school for another degree. Last night, I tried rock climbing with my sister--something I'd have never had the time to do before. It was fantastic.
When I get back on the mats in a class setting, that will be an awesome moment. I look forward to it every day. But, right now for the first time in three years, jiujitsu does not take priority in my life. And that's okay.
Meg started jiujitsu in 2012, got her blue belt in 2013, and has competed in five competitions.
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