Ask a dozen people why they train jiu Jitsu and you’ll hear a list of standard reasons: Self-defense, fitness, self-confidence, etc.
A flip side to that question is why do people quit?
Ask a dozen people and they’ll also run down a standard list: Got busy with work, family commitments, new obligations, got hurt, etc.
I think it’s much more fundamental than that. Why do we train? We train because it’s fun. And we quit when we’re no longer having enough fun.
That’s it. That’s all it boils down to. Any activity we love to do we’ll find time to do. If an activity is not fun enough we’ll soon find reasons to quit.
So what can we do to make sure we’re having fun in BJJ? Probably the single biggest thing—which transcends Jiu Jitsu—is to eliminate expectations. In fact, as a life principle, I believe that the degree of happiness one feels is inversely proportional to the expectations one sets. In other words, when you expect less you tend to be happier.
When I think about all the times I’ve become upset in a relationship or some human interaction, invariably it’s because of an unmet expectation. I expected X and got Y. When I stop having expectations most emotional triggers vanish.
In Jiu Jitsu, eliminating expectations means rolling with a carefree attitude that has no emotional investment in any particular outcome. If you get the tap, great. If you get tapped, fantastic. You want to be unhappy on the mats? Turn every match into measure of your self worth. If you create an expectation that you must perform at a certain level, when you don’t meet it, it will tend to trigger negative emotions.
Here’s Mike Bidwell:
When we grapple from a high or low emotional state we are never serving our higher good. I have a saying, no highs or lows when I roll. What I mean is that when I am grappling I don’t get upset when things don’t go right and I don’t mentally celebrate when things do go right.
Look, the reality is that it takes a long time to get good at Jiu Jitsu because we’re actually testing our skills against each other—against training partners that are also improving daily and finding solutions to the problems we pose. And progress is never linear. There are peaks and valleys, and peaks and valleys within the peaks and valleys. Some days you feel like a world champion, other days you wonder whether you could grapple your way out of a paper bag.
If you base your enjoyment of Jiu Jitsu or your self-worth on how you performed (or how you think you performed) against any given partner, then your emotions are in for a rollercoaster ride. One minute you’re king of the world, the next moment, the biggest loser. That’s a recipe for frustration, and eventually BJJ won’t be fun anymore.
Here’s Rener Gracie:
Regardless of who I am training with, I try to remain impartial. Whether a move works for me or against me, I am equally enthralled by the beauty of the technique, and humbled by the thought that I have so much left to learn.
The paradox is your performance will actually improve when you don’t care how you do. If you eliminate all expectations it will free your body to explore and take risks, and in doing so, you’ll end up doing better. If you are only paying attention to what is going wrong you’ll tighten up and perform worse.
I’m not suggesting eliminating goals, or competitiveness, or that we stop actively trying to shore up holes in our game and get better, or that we stop measuring our overall progress in terms of our teammates. Without competitiveness, at least with ourselves, we’d never progress.
What I am suggesting is eliminating expectations of performance on any given training session and instead tap into pure joy of the art. If you do that, BJJ becomes incredibly fun and rewarding. And it increases the likelihood that you will turn it into a lifelong pursuit. Everyone who has gone on to become a blackbelt has at some point in their BJJ career learned how to do that.
Posted by Rick Ellis on August 03, 2017 • COMMENTS
Strong people are harder to kill than weak people and more useful in general—Mark Rippetoe
Once you’ve wrestled, everything else in life is easy.—Dan Gable
On my first day of seventh grade a bunch of kids were taunting a boy named Mike. I wanted to fit in so I joined in with my own jeers and was swiftly rewarded with a bloody nose. Mike didn’t take kindly to my mouth so he punched me in the face.
A few months later I got hit in the face again, this time by a scrappy kid whose name nor motive I recall. He walked up while I was talking to a friend. Next thing you know, bam, he punched me in the face! What had I done to anger him? I have no idea, but I had witnessed him mounted on another kid, beating him MMA style behind the gym, so he was the last guy I wanted to tangle with. I sheepishly walked away amid his taunts, relieved he didn’t come after me.
I had a third incident that year, this time with a rather corpulent boy named Albert. Kids would tease him, calling him Fat Albert. I never participated in that, having learned my lesson with Mike, and in fact, I didn’t willfully cause the grievance. He accused me of cutting in front of him during line-up in PE so he pushed me to the ground. Perhaps because all the other kids were watching I reacted uncharacteristically: I got up and pushed him back (although the only thing that budged was the inner-tube around his midsection).
Now he was really mad so be backed up 15 feet, and using his considerable mass, bull-rushed me. I have no idea where I found the presence of mind, but I stepped aside at the critical moment and extended my foot, tripping him. He hit the ground like a hay bail being dropped off a truck. To my relief the teacher intervened, not only saving me from the destruction that would surely have followed, but allowing me to bask in the cheers and back-pats of my classmates as Albert and I were escorted to the principal’s office.
What was it about seventh grade that would prove so violent? Who knows, but I’ve never been in a fight since. I’ve had a few tense situations in my life here or there that could have escalated to physical altercations or worse, but mostly my life has been uneventfully peaceful. My guess is that most people, even those that train martial arts, have rarely if ever had to use those skills in a fight. Most of us live in safe communities where the threat of violence is extremely rare.
So the question begs: Why do we train?
In my view, the single greatest reason to train Jiu Jitsu is not self-defense (even though it’s a phenomenal art in that regard), it’s the development of a strong, adaptable, and resilient mind and body. Those attributes have profound carryover to the entirety of our lives.
The process of becoming skilled at Jiu Jitsu requires a physical and mental adaptation that gives us much more than joint locks and chokes. It enables us to become comfortable with discomfort, it encourages dynamic problem-solving under pressure, it teaches us that we are far more capable than we think we are, and that our bodies can be pushed well beyond where we believe our max threshold is.
If the Zombie Apocalypse comes, our survival will be much more influenced by our general physical and mental capabilities than our ability to choke out an undead with rotting flesh (although admittedly that might come in handy from time to time).
Having more strength, stamina, confidence, and adaptability are useful in every realm in our life. Learning to blend with someone’s attack can be applied universally. Those things are far more useful and encompassing than any one particular self-defense skill.
I’d like to express my gratitude to tonight’s founding class. It blew my mind that we had 10 people on the mat. That’s more than I imagined would be there on day one. What a great way to kick off our new program.
I watched an interview recently with the great John Danaher where he described the ideal team hierarchy. Here’s what he said:
The Japanese tradition is based on Sensei, Senpai and Kohai. It’s the idea that senior students (Senpai) function as inspiration and guides to junior students (Kohai). The instructor (Sensei) gives an overall direction and guiding vision. The Senpai are the physical examples of that. They demonstrate the effectiveness of that system, and the Kohai strive to become Senpai. So there’s a dynamic in the class at all times—an upward mobility where the students are trying to rise toward something. I’ve always found that to be a very healthy training environment.
It’s very hard to build a successful training program without first investing in a small, select number of people who become your role models. Given that skepticism is the foundation of all modes of inquiry whether it be in science or martial arts, you need some method of delivering effective proof to the skeptics that come through the door. That proof will be your best students—the Senpai.
In the early days of a training program, I believe that it’s critical to make an investment in the top athletes in the room. As people come in they will have proofs delivered to them that what you are doing works effectively.
This seems to be the universal model in Jiu Jitsu. It certainly was when Roy Dean launched his academy in 2006. Within a short time of opening the school a group of Senpai emerged (Jimmy, Donald, James, TJ, Neil, me), and even though most of us were white belts, we became ambassadors who carried his flag and felt a special responsibility to become as good as possible.
What I find interesting is that none of Roy’s Senpai ever quit. To this day all of us are still at it, and have gone on to become either black or brown belts. This attests to the power of becoming a Senpai. I have no doubt that leaders will emerge to become role models for new students to be inspired by.
If you’re a new white belt, congratulations, you just joined a very elite group of people that participate in one of the most challenging yet rewarding activities possible.
I won’t sugarcoat it: BJJ is hard, especially as a white belt. It gets much easier and more fun as you improve, but during the first 6 months to a year it can be particularly challenging. Grappling is a very complex art with a lot of moving parts, so it takes time to develop skill and the physical adaptation necessary to do it. Rickson Gracie said it best:
The mats are the ocean and most people don’t know how to swim.
At many Jiu Jitsu academies there is a revolving door of new students that try BJJ for a few months then quit. Why do people quit? BJJ can be overwhelming due to the intense physicality of it and the complexity of the techniques. Often it feels like you’re just surviving because all your energy goes into trying to prevent more skilled students from tapping you out, and usually with little success.
But if you can hang in there for at least six months to a year you will have developed enough skill from the major positions to begin actually playing the game. BJJ becomes very fun at that point. In fact, it continues to get more fun as you climb the ranks because you’re no longer surviving, you’re playing the game with skill and starting to taste the success that comes with that. You’re beginning to develop superpowers, and that can be intoxicating. But it takes time to get there. You have to pay your dues. That means tapping to more skilled students. And lots of repetitions of techniques.
The best advice I can offer is this: Stick with it for a year. Make a commitment to yourself to give it a fair chance. I promise you that if you can get through that first year, not only will you have accomplished something few other people have, which you’ll feel very proud of, you will actually have built a powerful skill-set that the average person doesn’t have, one that can keep you safe. You won’t be a great grappler yet, but compared to the average Joe on the street, you’ll seem superhuman.
The second piece of advice I can give is this: Relax. Make a conscious choice to not train at 100% intensity. Monitor yourself for tension and try to make your body soft and your movements smooth.
When you watch a skilled Jiu Jitsu artist you’ll notice that they seem so relaxed. So calm. Their movements are controlled and fluid. No wasted motion. In contrast, white belts tend to be extremely tense and their movements are jerky. Every muscle in their body is tight. Everything feels like a threat to a white belt so they are constantly tense. That tension will not only make you very tired very quickly, it will slow your development because you won’t be able to feel or observe what your opponent is doing.
We all want to taste success quickly. Often, white belts try to achieve success through more intensity. They think if they can just get into better shape so they can roll harder, faster and with more intensity then they’ll be more successful. To a point this actually works. For a while. But soon they’ll come to realize that you can’t be in good enough shape if your movements are not efficient and your skill is low.
The truth is, intensity is rarely the answer in Jiu Jitsu. Intensity just makes you more prone to injury or injuring one of your training partners. And it slows down your progress because you’re relying on your physical attributes instead of on technique. The key to getting good at BJJ is consistency, not intensity.
So make a conscious choice that you’ll keep your competitive juices in check and strive instead to be relaxed, even if it means conceding a position or tapping more often. You’ll progress much faster and be less likely to get injured. Trust me on this. I’ve trained with many white belts. The ones that progress the fastest are the ones that don’t treat every roll as a life and death encounter.
Those two things are in my estimation the most important: Commit to a year of consistent training and focus on technical development more than attribute training. If you can do that, the odds that you’ll turn BJJ into a lifelong pursuit increase dramatically.
I’m pretty surprised that we ended up this far ahead of schedule. In less than the 30 days we’ve been in Laramie we found a house to buy, moved in, bought a car, and I was able to get the academy space built out—paint, lighting, exterior sign, wall graphics, changing rooms, carpet, sound system, round timer, and most importantly…mats!
My original goal was to launch in early August, but there’s no reason to wait that long. So…
Third Way will officially open on Monday evening, July 24th at 6:30 PM.
Who wants to train?
If you’re interested in getting started, please email me so I can get you added to our membership system ahead of time, and get your waiver pre-printed. That way you can just show up to train, and we don’t end up with a bottleneck of new people standing around waiting to sign up.
For the past couple years I’ve dabbled with the idea of starting a Jiu Jitsu academy. Mostly this idea was fueled by a realization I had when I left Roy Dean Academy in Oregon. It wouldn’t hit me immediately, but over time I came to understand that I had left behind a very special place, one unlike anywhere I’ve trained since.
Roy Dean is not only a master technician with phenomenally fluent and beautiful Jiu Jitsu, he’s one of the very best teachers in the world. When I joined his academy on the day he launched I had no idea just how good he was, or how fantastic his methods were for rapidly developing his students.
For Roy, perfect technique and perfect movement are everything. He is a master at chaining techniques together and teaching them in logical sequences that build a very well-rounded foundation that students can use as a launch pad for developing a personal game that matches their body type, physical attributes, and personality.
So I missed that environment, and as luck would have it, a relocation to Laramie would bring an opportunity to build an academy affiliated with him and modeled after his excellent training methodologies.