Too Legit to Quit

“I usually try to visit another gym when I go away,” I told my gym-mate last night. “I’ll do it alone, but it’s much more fun to go with someone.”

            “I hear ya,” replied Gym-Mate, a largish, solid, shaven-headed man whom I could be afraid of (if I didn’t know him or jiu jitsu) and saw him while walking down a darkened, deserted street. In reality he is my sweetest, gentlest, and most good-natured classmate.

            “It can be awkward,” he continued, “going alone. Everyone else knows each other and they always pair up.”

            “Plus, they have their own warm-ups . . .” I added.

            “ . . . and everyone knows them except you . . .” he finished.

            “Yeah, and there I am, looking like a fool, trying to get the crazy warm-up right. Oh, I’ll go, but it’s much more fun with, say, Cousin Of Shark Girl. At least if there is someone else who feels the same out-of-sorts, it’s more comfortable, easier to laugh about. Plus,” I said, “as a woman, I often get really weird reactions when I go alone.”

            “Really?” Gym-Mate asked.

            “Really.” I recounted some of them, (including this one.)

            “Wow. That’s crazy. ”

            “I know. People are like, ‘Who is this tiny, middle-aged woman, and why is she here?’ They think I’m spying for the NSA or something.”

            “Yeah, but then when they roll with you, they know you’re legit.”

Wow. Legit. That word made my day. You see, I am a tiny, middle-aged woman. And I’ve never ever been remotely legit in any athletic context. Sure, I have done some marathons and half marathons in my day. But I wasn’t ever legit. I couldn’t hang with “real” runners. I’m slow and plodding. I get the job done, sure. But that’s about it.

Growing up, I was the four-eyed kid whom noone wanted on their team, because, well, I sucked. Hell, I wasn’t even legit in my kindergaten dance class. Mrs. C., my instructor, tried to hide me behind the hulking, ogrish girls because I “didn’t know the steps.” (“But I can’t see her,” Mother of Little Shark Girl complained.)

Maybe I would have been legit in aerobics. I went to town on them in the ‘80s, but in the late ‘90s the dance steps got too effing fancy for me. Give me some Paula Abdul and a hot pink and green step and I am so legit—except when I miss the step on the way down and roll an ankle.

 That's me wayyyy in the back. . . . This is long but hold out for Alan Thicke's painful jokestering.

So, thank you, Gym-Mate, for your unassuming compliment. It meant so much to me, perhaps because I have always struggled with the mediocrity of my athleticism, and because now, in my 40s, I have found, quite by chance, a sport that suits me, and I long desperately not to be mediocre in this, too.

Folks, in the coming weeks Shark Girl will be going on vacation, and you know what that means. If you see a tiny, middle-aged woman coming in to visit your gym, she could be legit!

Added Bonus

Here's another tidbit for you. I definitely see how the 1988 Crystal Light Aerobics Championship influenced early-90s dance moves.

  Don't you wish the godfather of jiu jitsu would give you gi pants?

Tonight Rocked!

It’s not that I was a crazy submission machine. Not even close. It’s not that I got every move right, or showed technical chops that would make German engineers proud. No, it was none of those things at all. But tonight’s class rocked.

For the first time since my injury six months ago, Shark Girl felt back. I rolled round after round, not worrying about submissions, just working my game. Trying to weasel out of stuff, trying to put my opponent in a bad position, and just maneuvering from where I was. It felt great. I felt–dare I say it?–almost back to my old Shark ways. At the end of the night, I collapsed on the mat. flail-armed and exhausted, sporting loose and limber joints that allowed me to do back flips in celebration of an evening well spent.

Gratuitous cute cat photo

In the three months I have been back to training, I have had doubts. Maybe my time is up. Maybe I can’t go any further in my practice. Maybe this jiu jitsu thing has run its course.

Returning to the mat has been like meeting an old friend that I used to know really well, like in college, but we have drifted apart. There’s not much to say except to reminisce about how things used to be. Then we say goodbye and I get a Christmas card to remind me that Friend was once an important part of my life, and look how her children have grown! It always works the same with me and those friends—it’s hard for me to live in the past, and I’m not really good at maintaining friendships. I have admitted that many of my old friendships are things of the past.

But tonight. I belonged on that mat tonight. Tonight I was creating new memories and having new experiences and jiu jitsu was a vital, necessary part of my life. Just the way I like it. I suppose it can stick around for a while. We’ve got a lot to talk about, the two of us.

Of course, I am still vigilant about my injured limb. I probably will be for a long time.

On Kissing and Catching Fire

I recently read Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins. Perhaps you have heard of it? Or have you been living in a fallout shelter for the last few years, or Under the Dome, or in a fallout shelter Under the Dome?

Anyway, I was happily reading along, minding my Shark Girl business, when something came out of the book and slapped me in the face like it was my sassy, gay friend:

I really can’t think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite.   —Katniss Everdeen

What? Did I really just read that?

That stung. Before I read that sentence, I could deny that Catching Fire was a teeny-bopper novel. That sentence clanged like a cymbal: this book was for people who could relate to someone weighing these equally: Should I kiss Gale back? Or should I rebel against the Capital? Hmmm . . . This is a tough one!

Yes, I, a grown Shark Girl, was reading a novel geared to people who have spent less time breathing than I have flossing my teeth. To be fair to Suzanne Collins, my 11-year old’s constant, “Did ya’ read it? Did ya’ read it? Did ya’ get to the part when. . . .” should have gotten me there first. “I did read it, but I didn’t know it was a kissing story. . . .” was my usual reply, to which 11-Year-Old rolled his eyes to say that I was so immature.

"The weakest of the trilogy," my newly-teen nephew offered me his literary critique.

Sometimes I look through my Google search terms or read BJJ forums and I have the same 6^th-grade, Catching Fire feeling. There are countless queries wondering whether women (and men) experience sexual urges during grappling. Most (post-middle school) women (and men?) say the same thing: We’re too busy fighting and surviving to be aroused; it’s not really there.

So, seriously—Katniss weighing whether her thoughts should be on kissing or kicking ass? Totally 6^th-grade. I shook my Shark head and moved on. Whatever. . . What happens next? And then I stayed up for two nights after the kids went to bed to find out that . . . oh, hell! Read it yourself. It’s a good story! 

It's so hard to decide!

Shark Girl’s reading has taken a hiatus while she plays Clash of Clans, also with people one-third her age.

It's Finally Over!

School, that is. Writing and grading final exams and projects, attending end-of-the-year events for my kids . . . all these things have taken Shark Girl away from you, Dear Readers, and I am not happy about that. Today I am finally free. School is out. Hooray!

And in this freedom, Shark Girl has finally posted all of the pictures and measurements for my gi review, so please check them out here if you are interested.

But I have a confession to make. I can hide behind my professional and parental responsibilities only so much. There has been something else consuming my time, inching in on precious BJJ territory, slithering into the corners of my life. I am about to go very off-topic, so if you are reading this blog purely for jiu jitsu technique (and I wonder why you would be, since I have never written about one technique in all my years of blogging), it's time to stop reading and go somewhere else.

I hinted at this previously, but when I returned from the land of espresso, I decided I wanted to upgrade my at-home caffeine-making abilities. I have spent hours and hours pouring over the fora at coffeegeek.com (great folks over there, by the way), deciding on the perfect new machine for me, and learning proper foaming and extracting technique. I have a long way to go, but here’s some food porn for you:

Please feel free to give helpful advice on technique!

I know that I should have been poring over YouTube grappling videos in my recovery period, but instead I have been focusing on barista videos. *sigh* Maybe this is why my return to the mat has been rather stunted. I am glad to report that I am back up to full speed. The sad news is that while I learn to protect my healed injury, I feel a little awkward and spazzy on the mats. Hopefully this too shall pass. Or perhaps it’s all that espresso I’m drinking.

Shark Girl is Back . . . In Her Newest Gi Ever

Yes, Shark Girl is back and ready to talk about her newest gi—the Tatami Ladies Estilo 3.0 Premier. My initial reaction upon taking it out of the box was this.

I’m not usually a fan of patches or blue gis, but something about this patchy, blue gi is charming.

I like putting on this gi. I don’t feel like I’m wearing some baggy, potato sack or ill-fitting “boyfriend” jean. I feel like it was made for a woman’s body. I don’t want to say that it hugs my curves, although it does. I don’t want to say that I feel like a woman in this gi, although I do. To say those things, unfortunately, implies a sexiness in our culture that is not there in this gi. It’s actually a womanly power that I feel—that my body is not hidden away, but it is also not on display. This gi makes me feel like a female super hero without the gigantic breast handicap. Is this a feminist gi? Is Tatami rocking a radical, grrrl power? My first guess was no, because what martial arts company wants to do that? Usually they are objectifying our asses. But then I saw that they supported the Slideyfoot’s GrappleThon for the benefit of Rape Crisis (England & Wales) and I was impressed.

Here’s what I like about this gi:

 

Pros:

• styling and fit
• low-slung pants sit below the hip so I don’t feel like I’m wearing granny pants
• close collar—my teammates hate this collar. They complain it’s hard to grab. Yay!
• durable. I’ve been wearing and washing it for three seasons now and no problems.
• stay-tied drawstring

Now I don't have to stop my roll to preserve my modesty! This baby stays tied.

Con:

I wouldn’t mind a slightly longer skirt. It comes out of my belt too often for my liking.

Yes, those are wine blotches. Don't judge.

Conclusion

I was pleasantly surprised by this gi. I think Tatami did a great job of tailoring it for a woman’s body and not just taking a man’s gi and making it pink. Way to go!

Look! It comes with this cool satchel!

Thanks to Martial Arts Supplies for giving me the opportunity to try out this gi.

Shark Girls Family is Expanding!

Tomorrow I am becoming a foster mother. To two kittens. Shark Girl's family is volunteering with our local no-kill animal shelter to open our home to homeless cats awaiting adoption. And tomorrow we get our first ones.

Every mother dreams of sharing her hobbies with her children. Yesterday I saw this video and thought, "Just maybe! Maybe our new little bundles of joy will have my same nose, oddly-placed fur, cuddly qualities, and a love for wrestling!"

If so, it will be hard to say goodbye when they do find a loving home!

It's About Time for a Gi Review . . .

So, I was rolling the other day in my “new” gi, and I realized, “I really like this gi. I think it’s my favorite. Maybe it’s time to write my review?”

Did you hear that? I was rolling. I. Me. Shark Girl. Rolling. On the mat. Doing jiu jitsu. Again. After three months. If you think three months is a long time to wait for jiu jitsu satisfaction, think about poor Martial Art Supplies, who sent me this gi in good faith last summer and has been patiently awaiting a, some, any review. Babies have been born, governments have toppled, terrorists have plotted and fallen, and yes, Shark Girl was injured and . . . recovered? I surely hope so.

            Doc gave me the go-ahead—unexpectedly!—and I wasted no time, running off to BJJ class and hitting the street to get my running legs back. Will I be able to do that half-marathon this fall? Can I actually pretend that this injury never happened? I’d like to.

            During my time off, I didn’t troll the Internet watching video clips or DVDs on BJJ technique. I didn’t read up or otherwise edify my atrophying practice. But I did learn a lot and I’ll share it with you here:

1)      I will not turn into Jabba the Hut after three months. While I definitely gained a little fat, I am happy to still fit into all my pants, albeit a little more snugly.

No, that's me . . . in the bikini!

 2)      Muscles weaken rapidly. While favoring my knee, my hips and quads lost strength and then my IT band got tight which tweaked everything. It takes months to gain back the strength and flexibility lost in only a few weeks!

3)      I learned some great and terrifying strength exercises that will serve me, and my guard, well. My legs were on fire for days afterward, but the exercises targeted my weakest muscles. The burning was a reminder of how much strength I had really lost.

4)      Walking rocks. A good bout of walking in Europe over cobblestoned streets really challenged my muscles and stability, and put me on the path to recovery.

5)      I love espresso. This has nothing to do with my recovery, but being overseas reminded me that it’s time to replace that broken espresso machine I threw out last year. Any suggestions? 

6)      All PTs are not equal. They will bounce you from one to another like they are. Find one that understands that you want to do more than watch TV, or you’ll be stuck doing crappy exercises that prepare you to lift bland, mushy food to your lips while watching “Matlock” reruns. Lucky me—I had a session with a woman who was learning our unique jiu jitsu moves—like omaplatas—and how she could strengthen us gradually to do them again with confidence. What a woman! (She’s the one who kicked my ass with the exercises in #3.) 

7)      Jiu jitsu takes up a lot of my time. I’m writing this from Oldest Son’s tae kwon do class. In the past I would have found a way to get around this so I could do jiu jitsu. But after three-months off, what’s one more class? For an exercise-addicted, married, workaholic-outside-the-home, mother of two, that’s a profoundly healthier way to look at class. 

8)      IT band stretches suck. No other words needed.

Well, now I’ve rambled far too long to review this gi, so Martial Art Supplies, and gentle readers, you will have to wait until next post but here’s a preview of what’s to come. I’ve taken some sniuppets from my review, rearranged them, and come up with an interesting sentence:

 Pleasantly surprised, my curves can attest to grab some baggy potato sack hidden away 

out of the box—sexiness in a man’s gi.

 gigantic breast

  (That last part I just added for prurience.)

What does it all mean? Is it a message from ancient astronauts? Whatever it is, I hope it entices you to tune in next time. (Or maybe you’ll share your own "review sentence scramble"?)