Sustainable Jiujitsu

By Liz

I’m totally exhausted at the end of every training session. How do I keep from getting injured or burning out?

Developing a long-term training plan and sustainable jiujitsu practice is key to ensuring that we can keep practicing jiujitsu into our eighties as Renzo Gracie did.  

I’ve recently noticed a few patterns with the female cohort at my gym. First, I know several women who have recently been injured or been completely exhausted by jiujistu. A couple of my friends even had to take several months off from jiujitsu because, in their own words, “I’m just completely burned out mentally and physically by jiujitsu.” See Meg’s own post about this. 

Second, among the women there are ego flare-ups—for example, blue belts getting resentful after a white belt taps them, or white belts going too hard with other white belts.

I’ve had conversations that uncomfortably cross into the realm of, “She always taps me out,” or “At least I tapped her out.” 

Since when did jiujitsu become all about tapping or getting tapped?

I have to admit that I’m definitely guilty of all of these habits. Once I trained so much that I barely had any energy to walk up the stairs in my house. Other times I found myself unmotivated to go to the gym, or else just completely bored during randoori sessions as I repeated the armbar-triangle pattern over and over again.  

There is a white belt who regularly taps me during training. There is another white belt whose guard I cannot pass. There is another white belt I still haven’t been able to tap. During those sessions, I often get frustrated by this and react by either spazzing out on them, pulling back and getting completely passive, or just bottling it up and crying in the shower later.   

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A photo posted by Marco Bellusci (@bjjconfessions) on Sep 27, 2015 at 2:09pm PDT

I realized recently that if I kept holding on to these habitual attitudes--burning out and getting frustrated--it wouldn’t be long before I either got injured or quit jiujitsu. 

What I mean by “sustainable jiujitsu” is training such that we don’t get injured or burned out easily. We can develop skills so that we train as much as possible for as long as possible. Jiujitsu is meant to be a life-long sport, but it’s necessary to practice some skills to ensure you keep practicing for years to come. Here are some tips:

• Take days off.

• Get enough sleep. 

• Eat clean.

• Every session doesn’t need to be war.

• It’s okay to tap out. It’s okay to get your guard passed. 

• You don’t need to submit people all the time. Sometimes it’s good to practice new moves instead of always going for the tap.

• Focus on learning and practicing new things. If we’re always doing the same move from the same position, we’re going to get bored really fast.  

• Keep your ego out of it. Practice detaching from the outcome. You will take all the fun out of it, and probably end up getting injured or burned out, if you focus on who tapped out who, how often, and when. 

• There is a time and a place for focusing on getting submissions: competition and competition training. If your gym doesn’t have specified competition-training classes, you can set aside one or two days a week during free sparring randoori to focus on getting submissions. 

• Remember the point of jiujitsu is to learn new things, improve on those things, help others improve, to challenge ourselves, and to have fun. Focusing on submissions all the time can take these goals out of it for both you and your partner. 

• Remember respect for the people who try new things, not the ones who are just beating up the lower belts. If we can cultivate a culture of helping each other and learning rather than one of aggression and defeat, we can ensure that jiujitsu becomes a long-term practice no matter our age. 

• This post is not meant to advocate being lazy either. It’s always good to keep challenging yourself in terms of technique, speed, and strength. I am advocating for pushing yourself as hard as you can, but with an appropriate balance between focusing on getting submissions, while also learning new techniques in the process.

Sustainable jiujitsu practice requires maintaining a delicate and tricky balance of challenging yourself mentally and physically, while also recognizing your limits. 

Some days I’m so mentally burned out with adrenaline from the stress of work that all I can do is turn my brain off and go as hard as I can by using the techniques I know best. Some days I’m so physically burned out that all I want to do is hang out in bottom of guard and try the new sweep-submission combo from lasso guard. There is no right or wrong way to go about this. The point is to make sure that we are staying aware of our mental and physical limits and having fun while we’re at it. 

Liz started jiujitsu in 2011, got her blue belt in 2013, and has competed in 11 competitions.

Confessions of BJJ Women

You thought only men farted or got aroused on the mat? Think again. Here is our first installment of BJJ confessions from myself, Liz, and a few other anonymous BJJ ladies!

• I thought jiujitsu sounded stupid the first time I heard of it, years before I started training. How wrong I was.

• During intense competition training one day, I was spotting between periods and bled through my gi pants. My friend tried to say something, but I was so worked up that I ignored her and completed the class with a big red stain on my pants. Later she said, "I tried to tell you!"

• I avoid some techniques because I have small panic attacks when my legs get trapped. I can't even sleep with the sheets tucked in. I don't know why, but my body freaks out and it almost hurts.

• Sometimes I get slightly aroused against my will doing certain moves, like when people grab between my legs in side control. I can’t help it, and it makes me glad that being female means no one can tell.

• One time I was rolling with my coach when I felt a fart coming on. I stopped moving and clenched my butt cheeks. My coach said, “Come on, don’t give up now! You have to keep moving, dig deep!” I bit my lip and kept going, praying that I wouldn’t fart on him.

• I did fart on my coach, and it was loud enough to echo off the walls. I tried to cover it up with a cough, but he was smirking.

They do, and it will happen in their triangle. Enjoy.

• I only know how to tie my belt the "super knot" way and not the traditional way.

• I was practicing the fan sweep and really trying to put the hip thrust motion into it as hard as I could. My partner was a newbie and apparently hadn’t figured out he should wear spandex under his gi pants. I could feel his boner.

• Teammates have commented on my smooth legs (in a non-creepy way), but I rarely ever shave above my knees thanks to gi pants.

• I hold grudges when men bully and muscle me around on the mat, and I make them pay when I finally get the upper hand whether it's in the same roll or two weeks later.

• I was going for the belt when I grabbed my partner’s balls--a whole handful of them. He played it cool, but I was mortified.

Ball control, 10 out of 10.

• During a no-gi match for gold, my shirt rolled up my stomach, and I got self-conscious with everyone watching. She passed my guard because I stopped to pull my shirt down.

• Jiujitsu is a spiritual experience for me. The gym is my sanctuary.

• I convinced my coaches I didn't want to work with one guy because he was too spazzy. In actuality, I didn't want to work with him because he always grabbed my ass--in rolls, in drills, and even when we lined up to say goodbye. (Disclaimer: I should have told my coaches. Please tell someone if this happens to you.)

• I like being in back control because it feels like cuddling.

• I once unintentionally caressed my coach's balls with my foot while trying to learn De La Riva guard. I kept my foot there a few awkward seconds too long trying to figure out why his thigh was so soft.

Check out this Instagram page for more hilarious confessions! 

Have a confession of your own and want to include it in our next installment anonymously? Send it to us at liz.meg223@gmail.com!

The Color of the Belt

By Liz

I remember when I was an energetic and spastic white belt with a naive heart full of hope and eyes full of wonder for the world of jiujitsu. I was like a recently inducted member of a secret cult; or perhaps a new lover eager to please; or an addict needing a fix. I recall lining up in rank order at the end of the queue, and sometimes I would lean my head forward just an inch and sneak a look out of the corner of my right eye. Outstretched before me was a long row of colorful belts like they were mocking me and saying, “You are literally THE worst.”

I remember when I was a white belt, I idolized the blue belts like they were demigods. The purple belts? They were (are) practically gods. The brown and black belts? I won’t even mention those gods of gods. (I am not worthy! *kowtows* I am not worthy!)

When I rolled with blue belts, their technique dominated mine. They could fold me into a pretzel, armbar me in their sleep, and pass my guard before I even got in guard. They had fancy techniques I’d never seen and could manipulate my limbs like it was their job. They seemed so experienced, so COOL. They were the eighth graders in middle school, the cool kids in the cafeteria, the seniors in high school. They seemed untouchable to me. They were what I wanted so badly to be. They gave me advice, and I hung on to every word. They intimidated me with their skill and experience, and with their jokes, handshakes, nods, and knowing smiles. They were all friends with each other, and I was the awkward and uncoordinated noob.

Being a white belt definitely feels like adolescence sometimes.

After I’d had my white belt for one year and four months, a friend hinted that if I did well at the next tournament, I might be ready for my blue belt. “No way,” I responded, though inside I was doing cartwheels. Maybe, just maybe, it was time for me to enter the rank of the blues.

I did relatively well at that tournament. In no-gi, I lost by points in the finals after barely missing an armbar (and, somewhat regretfully but not really, fucking up the girl’s elbow because she refused to tap). In gi, I lost in the finals by points to a ferocious white belt who was also the wife of a famous black belt. So that one didn’t really even count, right?

My coaches kept telling me how proud they were of me. “How long have you had your white belt?” one coach asked me after my matches were over. “A little over a year,” I responded shyly. Could this be it? Could this be the moment I’m finally promoted?

Indeed, a couple days later during morning training, the two coaches who had helped me the most in my training up to that point promoted me to blue belt. Finally, all my hard work had amounted to something great. I was one step higher on the totem pole. I was bursting with pride.

The thrill of being a blue belt was short-lived.

Whereas yesterday I was a highly skilled white belt, suddenly overnight I became a sucky blue belt.

After a belt promotion there’s elation and ecstasy and then… you crash. It’s gone in the next moment. You fall low and you can practically feel the vertigo as you drop suddenly… now what? You’ve worked so hard to get to this point and now that it’s here… and it’s almost anti-climactic… under-whelming. It’s on to the next stripe, the next belt color.

I lost pretty badly at the next five competitions I participated in. I doubted myself as a blue belt for the next two years. I couldn’t stop that nagging feeling in the back of my head that kept saying, “You only got promoted to blue belt because you’re female.”

I could just imagine the coaches' conversation, as if I had eavesdropped: “Well… she’s pretty good… for a girl. We should just give her a blue belt because she tries really hard.” In other words, not unlike the awful pity fuck, I thought they had given me a pity promotion. After all, how could I deserve my blue belt when I was still getting destroyed by white belts?

Note to self: Try not to make up assumptions and conversations in your head. You’re almost always completely wrong.

Now, coming up on the third anniversary of my blue belt promotion, I feel more confident with my blue belt status.  

However, even after three years as a blue belt, I would be horrified if I was promoted to purple belt anytime in the foreseeable future. Sure, it would be nice to be acknowledged by my coaches for the time and effort I’ve spent on the mat. The seduction of external validation is not entirely lost on me.  

I’d still prefer to just curl up with my blue belt and hang out in mediocrity. Sometimes I don’t want to have the pressure of having to perform at a higher level.

In one sense, I think that’s why we get promoted: to push us into the ranks of the next level. I would guess there are tons of people in my gym who would love to stay blue belts forever. Because once we get promoted, the pressure mounts and we’re expected to perform at a certain level. It pushes us to keep improving.

Yet… why? Why does it matter what color my belt is? It shouldn’t matter. It simply means that you’ve been doing jiujitsu for a certain period of time. And yet… it carries some undeniable baggage along with it. And I think everyone experiences and interprets that baggage differently.

Maybe it’s an ego thing. It would be nice to remain as a good blue belt for the rest of eternity. I just want to stay in my comfort zone. My blue belt is like a security blanket now, a kind of shield that keeps me from the shame of being dominated by purple belts and keeps me doing relatively well at tournaments.

I feel no shame whatsoever when a purple belt dominates me, like one did the other day so much that my head spun and I started seeing stars, I walked off the mat licking my wounds with the comforting thoughts of, “Well, she was a purple belt. Of course she’s better than me. She’s probably been doing jiujistu for like 15 years.”

As a blue belt, white belts still tap me out occasionally. And when that happens, my ego gets bruised really bad.

In situations when we feel our ego pulling a temper tantrum, I think it’s important to remember jiujitsu is about the process--of learning, of challenging yourself, of trying something new, of being vulnerable.

The thrill of jiujitsu for me comes with trying something new even when I’m scared of losing the position. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten my guard passed by a white belt because I was trying to work butterfly or X-guard, or gotten swept when trying a new submission.

Yet that one in a millionth time when you’re actually successful with a new move? That is thrilling like nothing else, and in a second we’re transported back to our white belt inner-child, high on cloud-nine after finishing a triangle.

And yet the thought of getting my purple belt terrifies me. When I get my purple, I will return to the bottom of the totem pole again, this time as a sucky purple belt.

When we feel we are sucking at life or sucking on the mat, it’s important to remember it’s not the people who are good at stuff who we respect. It’s not just because we have a blue or a black belt that people are going to respect us, or even how well we can close that triangle. It’s the people who make an effort whom we respect. It’s the people who approach the world with adventure, who are okay with failure, and who reach out with compassion--those are the people who we respect.  

Liz started jiujitsu in 2011, got her blue belt in 2013, and has competed in 11 competitions.

Building Respect

By Liz

This post was originally titled, “Building Respect as a Female Coach.” Meg and I are both coaches of primarily male students at our respective gyms, and thus feel we have unique perspectives and useful advice on coaching BJJ. However, I changed the title because I think the following is relevant to everyone, not just jiujitsu coaches. Because at the end of the day, building respect as a female coach is really about building respect for yourself as a person.

For a variety of historical, societal, and cultural reasons, women often find themselves struggling for the respect they deserve. As female coaches, we need to make a concerted effort to build rapport with our students because respect usually doesn’t come easily to us.

This post is meant to help with that by sharing some advice and experiences on building respect. I briefly talked about setting high standards, instilling confidence in others, and expressing compassion towards insecurity on the mat in a previous post. Here, I’m first going to discuss my thoughts on practicing courage and compassion by setting clear boundaries. Second, I’m going to share some practical tips on building respect and communicating value.

COURAGE AND COMPASSION

Building respect with your students is about striking a balance between courage and compassion. Or as I sometimes like to think, commanding respect is about being a chocolate-covered pretzel: salty and sweet at the same time.

What I mean by “courage” in this context is the act of firmly setting, clearly communicating, and consistently maintaining your standards and boundaries. Shout-out to Brene Brown and Kristin Neff (check out their books I’ve linked to here) for inspiring me in this arena.

First one needs to take the time to decide what the ground rules are going to be. For example, lateness will not be tolerated, and each student must do 1 burpee for every 1 minute they are late. No talking while I’m talking, and talking will result in getting kicked off the mat. Rude or inappropriate behavior will result in a firm talking-to after class.

Now here comes the hard part: sticking to your boundaries. This is the scary part for most of us. I know when I set out to punish a student, sometimes my voice gets shaky and face gets hot. It takes courage to put your foot down.

Think about any good parent, teacher, or coach you have had in your past. This is what sets them apart from the rest: they clearly communicated their standards, but also maintained their boundaries.

As soon as you let someone disregard a boundary you have clearly communicated to them, you show them that they can break rules with no consequences. You lose respect as an authority figure in that moment.

In addition to maintaining your boundaries, the other key to building mutual respect with your students is in setting high standards. I could keep going over mount escapes with my students every single week, but I make sure to keep them progressing through more and more challenging techniques because I know they can rise to the challenge.

By presenting them with a high standard and expecting them to live up to it, I communicate to them that I respect them as students able to execute challenging techniques, which instills in each one of them a sense of confidence and I gain respect as a teacher in the process.

After all, why should they try to raise your low standards if you communicate that you don’t believe in them?

There is one more crucial aspect to building respect as a coach: compassion. Setting boundaries is a key component of compassion. After all, how can you practice compassion with your students if they are walking all over you?  

Jiujitsu is an incredibly vulnerable and scary sport, and anyone who sets foot on the mat deserves major props just for trying it out. It’s a new thing for most people and so by approaching each person with compassion in knowing that person is insecure (because we all are insecure whether or not we’re on the mat, but especially on the mat), we engage in our shared humanity.

This does not mean letting anything fly because you feel bad for them. It means understanding that this person is going through a moment of suffering in insecurity, and to reach out to them with understanding, respect and kindness. Let them know they are brave, they are a valuable student whether or not they are “good,” and they are doing something good for themselves mentally and physically. Never forget your actions and words have the power to inspire or discourage other people.

Try reaching out to the new person on the mat to give them extra attention and praise, or show some advanced techniques to the top students. Consider publicly rewarding those who improve, help others, and try hard--not just the ones who can berimbolo or tap out fellow students.

COMMUNICATING VALUE

Building respect with others revolves around the following principle: people respond to you how you expect to be treated.

How does one communicate an expectation of respect?

We must first respect ourselves and approach our students with a genuine belief that we are high value. People can sense this. Your students can tell when you are shy or nervous, which shows them you don’t think of yourself as high value.

How can you expect anyone to respect you if you don't even respect yourself?

How can we cultivate in ourselves this notion of high value and effectively communicate our high value to others? We’re all insecure. So how do we get into the high-value mindset in order to establish respect from our students?

Here are some practical tips to get into the mindset that you are a valuable coach. This was actually adapted from a guide I randomly found on Reddit for pick-up game, but I’ve adapted it to fit my own life because I think it’s useful for all different kinds of situations.

1. Think positively and get into the persona

Create a persona for your jiujitsu coaching and force yourself to think this over and over (even if it isn't true yet or you don't believe it).

My persona is:

• I’m awesome
• I am a beast and master of jiujitsu 
• I frequently have people seeking my instruction
• My time is valuable and not to be wasted by slackers or disrespectful students
• Teaching jiujitsu is totally normal for me

Going back to the main principle I began with: people respond to you how you expect to be treated. So you need to develop a mindset of how you expect to be treated when you are coaching. What I expect:

• I’m here to have fun and learn from my students as much as they learn from me.
• My students appreciate my presence and my instruction; they are not late for class.
• My students respect me and are eager to learn from me; they do not talk when I’m talking or talk back to me. 
• My students are looking to me as a role model and are trying their best; they do not slack off during technique drilling or rolling.  

Drill these expectations in your head and respond to your students genuinely as if that is where you are coming from, even if you doubt yourself at first. This is a self-fulfilling prophecy: when you are expecting to find respect, you will start noticing the little things students do to show their respect--and you will be able to easily point out when students are actually disrespecting you.

You need to communicate to your students that instructing jiujitsu is completely normal for you. I’m not saying you should pretend you have all the answers when you don’t; it’s perfectly acceptable to say, “I don’t know.” But it’s important to communicate that you are totally confident when saying, “I don’t know.”

2. Not thinking negatively

Anytime you find yourself having self-deprecating thoughts, take 5-10 seconds and stop yourself. Take 5 minutes if you need to, but once you silence the negative thoughts, replace them with good thoughts and beliefs, using the above persona.

3. Memories

Make a list of your successes and your good memories of teaching and training jiujitsu. Maybe a win at a competition or a time when a student told you that you’ve inspired them. Lock those in and force yourself to remember them, and let them give you confidence.

4. The Process

Before instructing, get yourself into a good space. Relive your successes, and repeat your expectations and positive mindsets. Shut down any negative thoughts.

After the class, remember the session and again focus on your successes. Going through failures is fine, but once you think through them once, tell yourself, "I've learned everything I can from that, and thinking about it longer is just harmful," then shut it out. As you grow, focus on how much you have improved in your jiujitsu and your instruction.

These principles ring true for parents, teachers, coaches, friends, and significant others. It’s a balance between the salty and sweet, and one that can only be learned after making mistakes with mindful self-awareness. Believe in your high value and everything else will follow.

Liz has been training jiujitsu since 2011 and got her blue belt in 2013. 

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