Clash Of The Titans!

It often surprises me how few people know of Uechi-ryu… In fact, even most people within martial arts circles don’t seem to know it and those who do, seem to know very little. But i consider my style to be a titan nonetheless… One of the original three Naha-Te styles from Okinawa and the one that has guided me through the challenges of life for over three decades. It wasn’t an easy choice to recently choose to start on a new journey with a new style, but Shotokan has treated me well; a fact that was reflected last weekend during a two-day seminar featuring several senior, high-ranking instructors.

The weekend started on Saturday morning. It was a gloomy, cloudy day that threatened to weep its load onto the world. I was a bit nervous, having never attended a “seminar” before. I had no idea what to expect. Would I be tested on what I knew? (which wasn’t much, at this point) Would I be asked to demonstrate my own style to see how I stacked up? (which wouldn’t have been a big deal) The mystery of the unknown caused a certain level of anxiety that I wasn’t enjoying. But I looked forward to it and packed my bag with some fast-acting glucose, water and my karate gi and made my way down the road to where the dojo was located.

I walked in and was greeted by one of the usual instructors I see on a nightly basis and another, whom I didn’t recognize. I was introduced and found out that he was an instructor from Saskatoon. I started to get dressed and realized I had forgotten an integral part of my uniform: the belt. Already, the day had not started on the right foot. I told the instructor I would be back shortly and dashed out the door. I got back just in time to get dressed for class and get lined up. A number of senior instructors had appeared but there was no chance for me to be introduced.

The morning went by in a blur, despite being two-hours long. Starting at 10:30, we went through a series of drills, techniques and concepts that tickled my brain and made me completely forget about the passage of time. By the time the noon hour hit and we broke for lunch, I was exhausted, sore and drenched in sweat. A little voice in the back of my head told me I should stay home in the afternoon and succumb to that fatigue. The next session was set to start at 2:30 in the afternoon. i had some time to contemplate my mortality and how difficult it had been to train all-out for two hours for the first time in years.

Although class was an absolute blast, I spoke to my wife about the prospect of staying home for the afternoon. In her infinite wisdom (she’s often far wiser than I) she explained that I had committed my Saturday to the seminar and that if I was seriously interested in learning Shotokan that i should at the very least finish out the day. I nodded my agreement and had a light lunch, followed by a forty-minute “old man nap” to refresh myself. I made my way back for the afternoon session.

The afternoon was an absolute blast. We did some pairs training and even some 3-on-1 techniques. My previous style never focused much on facing off multiple opponents so this was entirely new for me. Despite the initial vestiges of fatigue I felt, I was suddenly re-energized and hammered through the afternoon with an enthusiasm I haven’t felt since my 20’s. I got home with a grin splitting my face from ear-to-ear and my wife only had to take one look at my face to understand and asked, “You’re going back for tomorrow’s session, aren’t you?” I didn’t need to answer. She already knew.

The following morning’s session started at 9:30 and everyone was pleased and surprised to see me. Knowing my current limits, I had explained that I would only be attending one day’s worth of the seminar. It was nice to be received so well and we started off the morning with a bang, following up on the techniques and training that we had started the previous day. The morning’s session ended with doing one-on-one ju kumite, which is basically free fighting. At one point while sparring with another black belt, I zigged when i should have zagged and took a round punch to the back ribs. The wind fell out of me and I finished the match. But I felt an explosion of pain behind my ribs.

When the session closed up at 11:30 for lunch, I explained to the instructors that I was happy I had made the morning’s session but that I would not be back in the afternoon. By the time I got home, the left side of my back had almost completely seized up. The only saving grace is that I’ve suffered fractured ribs in the past and this didn’t feel like that. I was thinking I had managed to bruise the muscle tissue over the rib cage, which was why I could still breathe clearly but it was quite tender to the touch. A hot bath and a heating blanket later and it started ot feel better by the time I went to bed.

It’s feeling almost completely normal now, after a couple of days for recovery. But it taught me a couple of very important lessons. Or maybe reminders, since it’s stuff I should have already known. I need to guard better; I’m not in my 20’s anymore and I can’t depend on having greater speed than my opponents. And accidents will happen, sure. But when they happen in the dojo, injuries are likely to occur. After all, as I’ve often said, this is karate. You want to take up a hobby where you don’t get injured, go join a knitting circle! ☯️

There’s No Time…

I’ve trained in a variety of different dojos, with slightly different styles from my own. It’s been great from an experience perspective. I’ve had the opportunity to recognize that not everything is structured in only one way, which is a perspective I clearly lacked during my time back home. One particular detail is that not all classes have the same length. Sensei used to believe in a two-hour class and would never sway from that. I’ve taken classes that have been as short as an hour. In fact, my current dojo has one-hour class times.

Ultimately, it’s not the amount of time that the class lasts that really matters but what you do WITH that time. A twenty minute session can be invaluable, so long as you actually train and learn something while you’re there. If you’re spending half the class taking water breaks and stalling your instructor with questions you already know the answer to, so that you can recover, you’re wasting your time. And time is exactly the purpose behind today’s post.

They say that time flies when you’re having fun. I’ve heard that on a few occasions. Karate is fun. At least, I think it is. And anyone who practices it should be fully committed in this manner, as well. While I was coming up through my formative years, Sensei has a small wall clock mounted in the dojo. Now, our dojo was a small storage room off a large basketball gymnasium. I say small but it was about thirty by fifty feet. A decent space for a larger class. But the clock didn’t belong to us, it belonged to the building. The problem came when students started glancing at the clock repeatedly.

There’s nothing worse, and this is one of my biggest pet peeves, than training and trying to explain something when the student’s mind is a million miles away and staring at the clock. It eventually got to the point that Sensei just took the clock down and stuffed it aside. After all, Sensei would open the class and indicate when it ends. There’s no need for students to be watching the clock. Unless they’re bored or don’t want to be there.

Unfortunately, I’ve fallen victim to this phenomenon, as well. For a few years while I was training in a particular dojo, I would compulsively stare at the clock. The class was an hour and half long; definitely not the longest I’ve ever been through. But as the months elapsed, I began to notice that whenever there was a “lull” in the class I would glance at the class to see how long there was left to the class. It took me a while to recognize that it was because I was unfortunately bored.

At that point, I had a difficult decision to make. I could allow my stubbornness to keep me rooted where I was or I could realize that this style and class format wasn’t for me and move on. I have a history of sticking it out, long after In should move on. Ultimately, I moved on. Sometimes, sacrifice is necessary in order to gain clarity. But even in the current dojo I train with, some students watch the clock as though they’;re hoping to see the needle move quickly around the face, which leads me to feel some of them really don’t want to be there.

When you study the martial arts, you have to be in the moment. You have to focus and concentrate on what you’re doing and not worry about the time. Your instructor will let you know when class is done. there’s no need to watch the clock. If you find that time is ALWAYS dragging on for you and you just can’t help it, maybe where you are isn’t for you. Food for thought… ☯️

Hit The Bag Or Hit The Bricks…

Not literally… I mean, what have bricks ever done to you? But the bag comment stands. And for a bit of clarity going in, I’m referring to a punching bag, not just any random bag in general. Punching bags are a fun and easy way to blow off some stems and relieve stress but they’re also an integral part to learning your techniques and actually executing them properly.

When performing forms or kata, we learn techniques, strikes and blocks through repetition and muscle memory. Form teaches us proper movement, proper bone alignment, proper footing, proper steps and proper technique. When done properly, doing forms will help you to work up a sweat and can be a fantastic workout on their own. The only downfall is that you’ll eventually hit a wall (pun fully intended) by combating a phantom opponent through form. Eventually, y’all gotta hit something…

And this is where a punching bag comes in. I got this thought during a karate class last week when we took a break from forms to try and accurately executed a certain double-handed strike. It involved slide-stepping in and striking with the blade of both hands. The movement is a bit awkward, I’ll admit but the problem comes from needing enough flexibility in the wrists to prevent tensing while striking with the appropriate area of the hand.

After a number of attempts by some of the students who were trying hard to work at it, I recommended that it be applied to a punching bag. After all, this is intended to be a strike, so it should/could be developed by actually striking. This is something that I’ve often done when I find that trying to perfect a technique isn’t quite working. It’s pretty effective since, in order to prevent injury, you’re more likely to strike properly against a surface like a pad or punching bag than you will be when doing form.

Techniques in your forms may look pretty and smooth, but they hold no value unless they’re effective while being used. Let’s also not forget that if you spend years practicing and training without ever ACTUALLY striking something, you may get a nasty surprise if/when the day ever comes that you physically have to strike an actual opponent. After all, you may have been playing Grand Theft Auto for years but it doesn’t mean you’re ready to get behind the wheel of an actual car.

The same can be said of striking. I’ve lost track of how many students train and train well, maximum effort, developing their strikes and doing the best they can. Then, they step up to someone holding a strike pad or walk up to a heavy punching and try those same striking techniques only to have their shoulders sink back, sprain their wrists or perform a completely ineffectual strike. Then they’re right back at square one and have to re-learn the strike.

Punching bags are reasonably inexpensive, unless you go all out and buy some Cadillac of equipment. But even most big-box retailers will have some inexpensive options. Finding a second-hand sporting goods store can also be ideal, since people will often get rid of their strike pads or punching bags even if they’re still in excellent condition. The point is, if you’re going to learn something like karate, your training can only go so far until you start practicing your strikes on an actual surface. Food for thought… ☯️

Reboots… We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Reboots! (Mild Matrix Spoilers)

There’s no shortage of imagination in today’s society but it often feels as though old ideas are being regurgitated and recycled at an alarming rate. Movies and shows that came out decades ago are being brought back into the light with a modern look, modern actors and modern twists. And sometimes that can be super fun. Other times, it falls short on expectations and leaves the viewer disappointed.

For example, I’ve always been a great fan of classic 70’s and 80’s slasher movies. For example the Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street series were fantastic and delivered exactly what one would expect: a bunch of people being unrelentingly slaughtered by a supernatural killer. That’s why, when the reboots of these movies came out in 2009 and 2010 respectively, I had great expectations. Both movies fell short.

Sometimes, a remake or reboot can reignite the imagination. Man of Steel was absolutely fantastic and I enjoyed the fact that they focused a great deal of the beginning on the planet Krypton and how Superman actually became, well, Superman. It still doesn’t compare to 1978’s Superman: the Movie with Christopher Reeve. That movie taught me a man can fly! But the reboot did the legend and the genre justice. I especially enjoyed how the Man of Steel didn’t have an all-powerful Superman who was unstoppable. There were several instances where the titular character gets thrown around, showing at least some augury of vulnerability.

That brings us to The Matrix. For those who aren’t familiar, The Matrix is a science fiction movie that came out in 1999, which seems like an eternity ago. The premise is that everyone lives inside a virtual reality environment controlled by machines that have enslaved humanity. The protagonist is freed from the machine environment and revealed to be a chosen “One” who has the ability to manipulate the virtual reality environment. It was a fantastic movie and still holds up. It generated two sequels, which weren’t QUITE as fun as the original but still good.

That’s why I was SUPER excited to hear that a somewhat reboot was being released last year. The Matrix: Resurrections. Despite the pandemic delaying and slowing down certain film releases, previews and hype built my excitement and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on this movie. It actually ended up being one that I purchased, which is contrary to my personal policy of waiting for it to appear on one of my streaming services. When I found it a local retailer, I scooped it up. My wife and I are massive Keanu Reeves fans, so we were both looking forward to it.

When we finally got to sit down and watch it, I have to admit that the build-up was somewhat slow. And strange. Considering it’s a sci-fi movie, that’s saying something. Once we got into it, we find out that it’s 60 years into the future and the main protagonists have been “resurrected” by the machines. The storyline was sound but it fell short in its delivery. And it was a little too similar to the previous movies. This usually wouldn’t be a problem for a genuine reboot. But this was shown to be something of a continuation of what occurred after the end of Matrix: Revolutions.

All in all, it was a decent movie but certainly not worth the hype or the excitement I had at waiting for it to come out. To say I was disappointed in it might be an exaggeration. After all, there were some fight scenes and some cool set ups. But I definitely regret not waiting for it to come to a streaming service instead of buying it. First world problems, right? ☯️

Changes In Perspective Can Be Good…

One of the more interesting aspects of studying the martial arts is that there are so many different perspectives one can subscribe to. This is why it can be initially difficult to find a style or art that suits you. What seems to be absolutely great for one person may be completely wrong for another, and pushing yourself to study in an art that you aren’t fully invested in can be harmful and difficult. I’ve known a lot of students who have entered into my dojo because they WANTED to learn martial arts but couldn’t consolidate the fact that my style didn’t suit them. That, or they’d be forced in because of their parents.

The important thing to remember is to keep an open mind. For many people, the perspective they hav going in will change over time, especially if they’re learning a style that suits them and accommodates their life. It’s also important to remember that martial arts isn’t necessarily all about the fighting. I was reminded of this recently during a fascinating conversation about different styles that I was having with a colleague. If you want to learnt to fight, there are plenty of things you can do that would no doubt be easier than joining karate. People hear the word “karate” and they automatically assume one is learning to fight. in fact, when asked, most new students will say that they’ve joined in ORDER to learn to fight, despite the fact that karate and martial arts in general is a study, a philosophy, a way of life… and fighting is only one small aspect of it. Food for thought… ☯️

Warmer Weather Brings Warmer Muscles

With the warmer weather becoming more of the norm than the exception, my mind has been turning to all the fun, outdoor activities that I usually enjoy doing in order to supplement my martial arts training. Some of those activities include long-distance cycling and using the punching bag in my garage. Last Sunday, the weather reached 7 degrees Celsius in Regina. As such, I decided to spend some time outdoors. Nathan spent the afternoon with a neighbour boy his own age. Alexander and my wife decided to come outside and enjoy some of the warm weather and fresh air.

They also came outside to watch me break a sweat as I chose to have my first punching bag workout of the season. I’ve been waiting on pins and needles to get outside to use my bag and getting some kilometres on the bike. It was a good burn; I only pounded the bag for about 30 minutes but that was all I needed to get my heart rate up and break a solid sweat. By the time I was done, I was sore and tired but I felt good. It was a bit like shaking the cobwebs off and coming up for air. I love training in a dojo but it’s important to do some stuff on the side in order to maintain one’s cardio and weight management.

I didn’t get out on the bike like I had intended, given that I had no grease for my chain and my can of WD-40 was empty. I would have enjoyed throwing a few clicks under my belt as well, but I’m more than happy to save that for another day. In the meantime, I had a “training partner” who decided to pick up the gloves and take a shot. As you can see from the video below, he’s a bit rusty as well. But the effort was still there. Check it out…

He definitely shows potential and always wants to punch or kick something. Wonder who he gets THAT from? I’m definitely happy with the better weather and the opportunity to start training outdoors again. I can’t wait to get out on the bike. There’s nothing quite like having fresh air in your lungs, music in your ears and a heavy sweat as you peddle your way to better health. ☯️

Different Strokes For Different Folks (or “It could be worse”)

Some of the more difficult issues in living with any chronic condition are the stigmas that are often associated with them. Often, people will assume that one’s condition isn’t bad by virtue of what they may have heard about it, or they have pre-conceived notions about its severity because one may not present visible or physical symptoms. It’s an issue I’ve had to deal with often throughout my life, ironically from family members as well as peers, employers and friends.

It’s kind of like some of the videos I’ve seen online where someone walks up to an individual in a parking lot and starts betraying them for parking in a handicap spot, despite having a handicap placard. The old line of “but you look fine” or “you’re walking normally” usually comes into play. Or knowing someone has fibromyalgia but suggesting it’s nothing because they seem to be getting on fine with their day, not recognizing the immense pain and effort it takes simply to “get on with one’s day.”

The best line and the one that usually pisses me off the most, is when people say “it could be worse.” What does that even mean??? I’ve actually spent my entire life hearing that line from my mother, of all people. I know that she’s usually saying it in the context of trying to face the positive but it never feels that way and comparing a person’s medical condition to something YOU perceive as being worse helps no one.

This irks me far more than it probably should but when I have someone who suggests that matters could be worse, I could have cancer or flesh-eating virus or any score of other ailments, it cheapens the severity of my own condition. I may look fine, but inside I have a tumultuous typhoon of symptoms, pains, bodily issues and a strict check and balance that needs to be maintained, just so that I can “look fine.”

The irony is that for those of us who see fit to work hard and push through, we’re not rewarded by praise for maintaining our overall health. We’re told that it doesn’t seem so bad and that it “could be worse.” Do anyone with a chronic condition a favour; don’t assume or presume how a person is doing solely on what your eyes can see. And don’t lessen the severity of someone’s condition simply because you know someone else who may be worse off. That helps no one. Food for thought… ☯️

The Most Unfortunate Coincidences…

Yesterday was an extremely difficult day for me. It usually always is, every year but for some reason, this year hit me harder than most. Maybe it’s because of all the bullshit happening in the world worth no clear sign of any of it ever ending. Who knows? While critically buried in my own grief, yesterday’s post failed to bring up a key event: It was once again time for my eye injections.

By the time that I had posted yesterday, I was well on my way to packing a bag for the two and half hour drive to Saskatoon, where I would book into my usual hotel and go get flaming hot needles jabbed directly into my eyeballs. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit… they’re not ACTUALLY flaming or hot. It usually just feels like they are. I make a big deal out of getting these injections but as Diabetic complications go, they’re not the worst. They just seem like the worst I go through because I maintain a tight control and have no other complications (yet).

My travel to Saskatoon was markedly uneventful, with my thoughts focused on the loss of my brother and the distinct irony that I had some scheduled, physical pain to pile on top of my recurring, yearly emotional pain. That irony was not lost on me as I made my way there and followed my usual routine and made my way to the hospital. The only silver lining is that despite having bumped my injections from seven weeks to eight, my vision was still clear and my eyes were free of fluid or swelling. This is good news, considering that about five or six years ago, I was attending every four weeks.

I spent my evening last night at an Irish pub, drowning my sorrows and attempting to lessen the pain in both my soul and in my eyes. I’ve woken up this morning feeling as though someone rubbed both my eyeballs with sandpaper. But my vision is clear and I have scheduled work meetings from my room before checking out and hitting the road for home. Staying healthy with Type-1 Diabetes is a difficult task. Sometimes the efforts are painful and tedious but I like to think that keeping my sight is important enough to warrant the pain and discomfort.

It was a strange coincidence that the anniversary of my brother’s death landed on the same date as my eye injections. If my doctor and I hadn’t decided to try for eight weeks, I’d have gotten the injections last week. It’s kind of like one of those strange happenings on a calendar, like this year being the only 2-2-22. But enough of my ramblings… It’s time to get on with the day. ☯️

It Always Comes Around…

There are so many dates on the calendar that hold pertinence in my life… But somehow, this one always seems to stick out the most. For anyone who’s been following my blog over the past couple of years will know what I’m talking about. Today is the anniversary of my older brother’s death. I still remember the event of his passing as though it was yesterday… Even though it was it was almost thirty years ago.

I remember the night as though it just happened… I was in bed and it was late night; at least, it seemed like late night considering I was in my pre-teens and I had school the following day. I remember waking up to the sound of my mother crying and my father trying to console her. I knew that my brother was still in the hospital, having been admitted a few days prior due to issues that came to light from his weekly bloodwork. I knew it couldn’t be good news, otherwise my mother wouldn’t be reacting the way she was.

She came into my room a few moments later and explained that tonight was the night that my brother was going to die and that we all had to go to the hospital to say goodbye. I started to cry but I remembered thinking that my brother had fought through everything and always came out alive. A part of me believed that he would get through this, as well. I got dressed in short order and followed my parents into the hospital in Dalhousie, New Brunswick. When we got off the elevator, I could hear my brother moaning despite being several hundred feet away. The sound still haunts me.

I only saw my brother for a brief moment. The sight of him connected to all the tubes and machinery was too much for my young mind to grasp and accept. The hospital staff provided me with a room on the other side of the hospital in the vain hope that I could get some sleep. I obviously didn’t sleep. At one point, a nurse brought me back to my brother’s room and I was given a minute to kiss his forehead and say goodbye. the entire family was there. I remember thinking that it robbed me of a privacy I felt I was entitled to in such a tender moment.

When I was brought back to my room, I remember tossing and turning until I finally fell into a fitful sleep. I was awoken by my father coming in to tell me that my brother had finally passed. I would learn years later that the nurse reported that I had ironically fallen asleep at the exact moment my brother’s time of death had been recorded. It was as though when my brother’s pain had finally ended, I could finally rest. I wouldn’t contemplate that fact until years later.

I’ve often heard it said, that when someone loses a limb they’ll often continue to feel pain in that limb even if it’s no longer there. It’s called “phantom pain” and it often persists because the brain can’t understand or comprehend the fact that the limb is gone. That’s what it’s felt like since my brother died. A phantom pain that never goes away. A missing part of me that may be gone but will forever be felt. My brother is my phantom pain. And it’s still sharp and acute.

My mother chooses not to observe or acknowledge this day. And the logical part of my brain understands that. No parent should ever have to bury a child. But that makes this day no less difficult for me. I think about the things I’ve never had the opportunity to share with my brother. Although that might make me feel selfish to some, I think of the accomplishments he would have been proud to see me complete. I think of my children, who never got to meet their uncle and will know of him only by name and through photos.

It’s a loss more significant than anything else I’ve ever felt in my life. Every day on this date, I observe the date as one that reminds me of the fleeting nature of life balanced against the true nature of heroism by one who loved freely and enjoyed his existence despite his constant knocking at the door by the grim reaper. He was truly an example to live by. The standard I hold myself up to. And the example that was given to a generation of Northern New Brunswick youth who had no concept of death but understood that it could happen. Until we meet again dear brother, I’ll carry on and look forward to the day when we meet each other again. ☯️

Guilt No More…

I think it’s safe to say that Diabetes is one of those “invisible” illnesses. After all, if one were to see me walking down the street, one would never be able to KNOW that i have Diabetes. Contrary to what you may see joked about on mainstream media and in the movies, having Diabetes doesn’t unilaterally mean that one is obese, missing toes or eats too much candy and junk food. Granted there ARE some like that, but it isn’t the standard. Most people don’t see what’s happening below the surface and they don’t realize the effort and control it takes just to get through the day. Some of that has led to some extremely uncomfortable situations throughout my life.

When you reach a certain age, you start to contemplate your life. And that isn’t a bad thing. Although I’ve grown to accept and acknowledge that I live my life without regret, contemplation is a completely different thing. My life is pretty awesome; I can’t deny that. To live with any regret means that I wouldn’t want my life being what it is now, and that just wouldn’t be true. But like anyone else, I’ve made some mistakes and have hurt people along the way with the choices I’ve made. And that’s what I’ve been contemplating.

For the most part, I was a pretty stubborn kid during my teen years. This cost me a lot, when i consider friendships, relationships and even experiences. Always a bit of a loner, I went it alone and dealt with the many ups and downs that Diabetes caused without ever sharing what I was going through with anyone. That includes my parents. Given the significant lack of control I had over my blood sugars, I tended to be cold, distant and a bit of an overall asshole. I know what you may be thinking: how is that different from how I am now? Well, first of all, fuck you! Second of all, I’m going to explain…

Wildly varying blood sugars can cause all sorts of behavioural issues, including fatigue, depression, mood swings and unprovoked anger. This didn’t bode well for friendships and relationships. And wouldn’t you know it, I just HAD to be going through it during my teen years when i was trying to be a typical teen… have friends, date girls and go out and have fun. None of that was conducive to good blood sugar control. I think back to the number of times I had to bail on friends and just stay home because In felt like absolute shit due to my Diabetes.

This doesn’t even begin to cover how much of a dick I was to girls I dated (NSFW pun fully intended). My mood swings and behavioural issues due to Diabetes made for some pretty harsh treatment from me. Couple that with the typical torrential wave of teenage hormones I was subjected to that just made all of it worse. This led to some pretty in-depth guilt, which cause some of the aforementioned depression. Unlike most teenagers of my generation, I never touched drugs or alcohol. In fact, as I’ve written in previous posts, I only had my first beer when i was 23 years old. So I had to ride the guilt wave with none of the safety or floatation devices that most people have.

Even now, knowing what I know and having the control that I do, my time is better preferred sitting at home relaxing with my wife than making plans and trying to leave the house. I keep a pretty tight reign on my Diabetes nowadays and since absolutely everything tends to affect blood sugars, I also keep a tight reign on how late I stay up and how I spend time outside my house. But I no longer feel the guilt that comes with the issues I faced during my teen years. As an adult, i recognize that my life and family come first. And there can be no guilt in that. The rest of the world will simply need to understand that. ☯️