Practice

Most everyone has heard "practice makes perfect".  If only it were that simple!  Some more accurate quotes:

1. Practice makes permanent.
2. They say 'practice makes perfect.' Of course, it doesn't. For the vast majority of golfers it merely consolidates imperfection. -- Henry Longhurst
3. Practice does not make perfect. Only perfect practice makes perfect. -- Vince Lombardi
   

Through repetition we burn movements into our brains and bodies, making them easier to repeat (for good or bad).  It is difficult to unlearn one way of doing things and replace or augment it with a better way; but unlearning is an unavoidable part of learning, and worth getting good at.  If we practice to do one thing, we'll need to practice further to undo it or evolve it into something else.  In practicing a new way, I discover how deeply ingrained the old way was -- habits are hard to change!  So:

1. Practice as if you are the worst, perform as if you are the best.
2. When you are not practicing, remember, someone somewhere is practicing, and when you meet him he will win -- Ed Macauley
3. It's not necessarily the amount of time you spend at practice that counts; it's what you put into the practice. -- Eric Lindros

Finally, practice can be profound:

1. Practice means to perform, over and over again in the face of all obstacles, some act of vision, of faith, of desire. Practice is a means of inviting the perfection desired. -- Martha Graham
2. We learn by practice. Whether it means to learn to dance by practicing dancing or to learn to live by practicing living, the principles are the same. -- Martha Graham (again)

Now go (and get really good at) practice!

A great groundwork game to play with kids

"Crazy horse" is a tremendous game that you can play with small(ish) children, devised by the Gracie family, but equally good preparation for judo:



Advantages:

1. Great fun
2. Builds skills in both parties
3. Makes good use of the adult/child size difference
4. Reasonably safe

One of "ten playful jiu-jitsu games" demonstrated in the new Gracie Bullyproof 10 DVD set, this has got me curious about the other games, too:

Discs 2-3: Gracie Games™ 

In the beginning, Rorion didn’t teach his children Gracie Jiu-Jitsu, he “played” Gracie Jiu-Jitsu. Using a series of 10 playful jiu-jitsu games, Rorion engaged his children in the learning process while informally introducing them to the fundamental principles of Gracie Jiu-Jitsu.

The idea that most young children (say under 8) will struggle with more formal martial arts training, but love  all sorts of wrestling games and other horse-play rings true to me.

I particularly like games that are intrinsically fun, rather than relying on competition to add zest to them.  Competitiveness can wait until later.  Enjoyment and skill-building should come first.

Edit (19 June): Just got the DVD set.  The other games are also very good.  Highly recommended.

Are there any questions?

In our classes, prior to the closing ceremony, it customary for the instructor to ask, "Are there any questions?".  Usually these are answered with briefly, then any announcements are made, and the we pack up, get changed into civvies, and go straight home*.

This format is fine for covering Q&A about administrative matters, but not ideal for consolidating learning. While I have been toying with extending the time available to allow greater reflection and sharing about technical matters, I am coming round to thinking that keeping it brief is fine, and other approaches may work better anyway for enhancing reflection and learning.

One approach that appeals is used by one of our Shihans.  After giving the class a new or challenging exercise to work on, he'll often get the group to debrief  by having the class form a circle around him and each in turn describe something they just learned or observed.  This encourages reflection, and also gives everyone the benefit of picking up on the perspectives and observations of others.  The instructor is also at liberty to respond briefly to some of the observations, but it's not compulsory.  I think I'll trial this method for a while in my class.

Another good way to help consolidate one's own learning is to make notes after each class.  And review them later.

*Or hang round and chat, but that makes for a late night.

Mastery Learning or Spiral learning?

How do you prefer to learn?

1. Incrementally: a little bit at a time, able to show fairly complete proficiency at one ability or skill before proceeding to the next, slightly more challenging level; or
2. Iteratively: Cycling through a number of skills and challenges, periodically returning, and gradually ratcheting up the challenge level.

The first approach s sometimes referred to as mastery learning; the second as spiral learning.  As always the devil is in the detail.

Spiral learning approaches are great for those students whose pace matches that set for instruction.  On the other hand, if you're struggling with the pace it will feel too fast, and you may feel inadequate (or resentful); if it's too slow, you may well feel bored (but boredom can often be productively overcome).  Mastery learning, on the other hand is by necessity individually paced, but can be a bit procedural from an instructional perspective.

In my jiu-jitsu and classical judo classes I have learned (and follow) a hybrid approach:

• The teaching method is spiral, but we are always reinforcing the basics, and pair practice with a variety of partners gives students access to individual instruction (and learning through teaching)
• Assessment is mastery oriented: you do not get put up for grading until you are ready to demonstrate a section of the curriculum at a high level of proficiency: so individuals tend to progress at difference rates, but there should not be a sense of being an "A, B, C, ... student" with its attendant problems (e.g. encouragement to adopt a fixed mindset).

This may be reasonably be regarded as a best of both worlds approach: we get the interest, variety and reinforcement of the spiral together with the steady progress of incremental mastery.

A solid foundation

Neal Martin at Urban Samurai has triggered a flurry of posts by various martial arts bloggers about the importance of continuing to train "the basics".

My take:

• The basics are not just for beginners.  They are foundational.  Perhaps "fundamentals" is a better term than "basics", but I'll stick with the shorter term.
• Since we practice them every class, we log more "flying hours" in the basics than anything else.  Why?
• Hopefully because they contain the essence of the style.

But just going through the motions, however regularly, while necessary, is insufficient.  Like the difference between 20 years of experience and one year of experience - 20 times, we need to keep peeling away layers and getting more and more out of our basic practice, both in terms of performance and in understanding.

So I absolutely agree that continual training in "the basics" is not just for beginners, but it has to be more than routine.  For example:

1. Every time you learn something new: How does it relate to the basics?
2. Got a question?  Look to the basics.
3. Want to focus on something: Find it in the basics and work on it there.
4. See someone doing a different variation from what you're used to.  Learn the other way and see what lessons it has to offer.
5. Bored by the basics?  Think you have a thorough understanding of a particular exercise or technique?  Time to look again.

It's part of learning to hit the occasional plateau (bored!), or be stuck at the bottom of a cliff (can't do it!), but by training the basics continually and intelligently these obstacles will in time be cleared, and you will have also built yourself a solid foundation for further learning.

You don't have to be great all the time

In her fabulous book, Writing Down the Bones, author Natalie Goldberg introduces a Zen-inspired practice of writing, whereby one sits and writes for an allotted time, say five or fifteen minutes without stopping, without correcting, always keeping the pen moving. This is not writing for publication, but rather writing as spiritual practice, more akin to meditation, therapy and martial arts practice than writing for an audience.

Here's my favorite anecdote from a book packed with wonderful vignettes:

Artistic Stability

I have a pile of spiral notebooks about five feet high that begin around 1977, my early years of writing in Taos, New Mexico. I want to throw them out -- who can bear to look at the junk of our own minds that comes out in writing practice? I have a friend in New Mexico who makes solar houses out of beer cans and old tires. I think I will try to build one out of discarded spiral notebooks. A friend who lives upstairs says, "Don't get rid of them." I tell her she can have them if she wants.

I pile them on her stairs leading up to her apartment and leave for Norfolk, Nebraska, for four days to do a writing workshop. When I return she looks at me oddly, plunks herself down in the old pink chair in my bedroom: "I've been reading your notebooks all weekend. They are so intimate; so scared, insecure for pages, then suddenly they are not you -- just raw energy and wild mind. And now here you are -- Natalie -- in the flesh, just a person. It feels so funny." ...

She said it was empowering to read my notebooks because she realized that I really did write "shit," sometimes for whole notebooks. Often I tell my students, "Listen, I write and still write terrible self-pitying stuff for page after page." They don't believe me. Reading my notebooks is living proof of that. My upstairs neighbor said, "If you could write the junk you did then and write the stuff you do now, I realize I can do anything. There's so much power in the mind. I feel like who knows what I can do!" She said the main thing she saw in the notebooks -- whole notebooks of complaints, boring description, and flagrant anger -- was an absolute trust in the process. "I saw that you kept on writing even when you wrote 'I must be nuts to do this.'"

When you see someone do something amazing, it's a mistake to attribute it to mere talent. You just don't see the hard work.

Slow, like a snake

I took a pleasant phone enquiry yesterday from a chap in his late forties, asking for some advice about martial arts, and about jiu-jitsu in particular.

This fellow is currently practicing karate, but the training is very hard on his knees, and did not seem sustainable. He had done judo as a child, and some aikido in his youth, and had decided to look at alternatives.

Like me, he wants to be able to continue to do martial arts as he gets older, without destroying various body parts. Now he was doing his homework.

I told him that I thought that this is an issue of school and teaching over style, and that I understood that in Okinawa it was quite usual for karate to be practiced into old age, but that I suspected that the kind of practice was different from what was being taught in many Western karate schools.

The conversation ended on good terms, with my main recommendation that he make a trip out to my style's HQ -- much closer than my own class, which was on the other side of town.

Regardless of whether he ends up training with us, I hope this man can find a martial arts school that suits his needs.

* * *

Going hard and fast is not a sustainable strategy as you get older. One of Roy Harris's older students explains:

We were encouraged to wrestle “slowly”. Slowly? That puzzled me. How could you wrestle slowly and be effective? Wasn’t fast and hard always better? I would have gone on believing this except for the fact that both Roy and his senior students were able to demonstrate this principle to me first hand. If you have never experienced being submitted slowly with an arm bar or choke hold, it’s hard to understand what it’s like. It’s the “boa constrictor” approach. The big snake on top of you holds you down patiently; he reads your mind and knows exactly what you are going to do next. Every time you move to get away, the snake tightens his grip a little more, and a little more, until you can no longer move or breathe.

So I too began to practice grappling by moving more slowly, more patiently, more precisely. And I began to find that it worked for me too. Of course, old habits die hard. Every so often when another student would start to get the best of me, the competitive urge would rise up. I’d start thrashing about, trying to make techniques work through sheer speed and power. I’d re-injure my back or some other part of my body, and go home cursing my stupidity. At forty-some years old, I was too old and vulnerable to injuries to try and compete head to head with athletes twenty years younger. So I had to get smarter.

After many years of practicing this new way of wrestling, I’m pleased to find that I can frequently hold my own against opponents who are much younger, faster and stronger than me, even if they are coming at me with everything they’ve got. I get injured less (and injure others less). I’m continuing to learn and can look forward to many more years of enjoyment in the sport. -- Tom Moon

I would post a photo of a boa constrictor, but I really hate snakes!

Go slow vs The need for speed

Train slow, or train fast?

I say slow. Speed can and will hide a multitude of technical defects, while practicing slowly means everything is on show.

Here's an excellent explanation from Ryron and Rener Gracie's site:

When practicing, always execute the techniques so slowly that it is impossible to make a mistake. The slow pace and predictability of proper training will provide your partner with many opportunities to counter the technique. Again, your training partner’s role is to consistently simulate the most common behavior so that you can perfect the techniques – not to fight with you. Eventually, your diligent and exacting practice will produce precise, efficient, and quick reflexes that will leave your attacker with no opportunity to counter your techniques. In a real fight, you will also have the advantage of surprise since your attacker will have no advanced knowledge of how you react to his actions.

As you gain experience the pace at which you can be correct, precise and efficient will gradually increase. This speed-up should happen naturally. By the time gradings come around it's not unusual for the panel of black-belts to have to ask candidates to slow down so that can observe their technique -- they may have started slow, but by grading time they are a blur.

By practicing slowly and cooperatively, we can practice dangerous techniques safely, develop sensitivity, fluidity and precision, and not kid ourselves in the process.

That said, I do train for speed as well. When practicing hung kuen kung fu sets, besides practicing at normal speed and really slowly -- think taijiquan (tai chi chuan) speeds -- I also do some sets as fast as I can. Similarly for punching drills. But these are individual drills (safety first). In jiu-jitsu and judo, when I'm thrown I get back up and re-engage as quickly as I can.

Another oft-cited reason to train fast is for the workout, but slow methods can be equally (or more) demanding. For example: Try doing a set or drill very slowly using only low-to-the-ground stances.

What's your approach to slow vs fast (and justification)?

The dojo, its purpose and meaning

I came across this wonderful evocation of the nature of the dojo -- our place of training -- in aikidoka Richard Strozzi-Heckler's book Holding the Center - Sanctuary in a Time of Confusion:

A dojo is a space of commitment in which people practice together. What is powerful about the dojo is what it tells us of learning, and ultimately, of waking up, of being alive.

In Japanese, "dojo" refers to the place where we train "in the way". This points to two important distinctions. The first is that the dojo is a place of learning where one practices what is being taught. This is different from the conventional classroom where students sit passively taking notes or listening to a lecture. This is not to say authentic enquiry is unavailable in lecture halls, but it points to the difference between academic knowledge and an embodied knowledge that allows people to take actions that sustain and enhance their lives. In a place of learning like the dojo students practice what is being taught and over time begin to embody the subject matter. It lives in the body, it is who they are.

The second distinction revolves around the concept of "Do", which translates as "Way". The origin of the word "dojo" comes from the Sanskrit bodhimanda, which means the place of awakening. The Japanese kanji for Do is composed of two parts. One depicts a man walking on a road. The other is the human throat, which surrounds the jugular vein, representing the very core and pulse of our life. A man walking toward life. The Way is a theme of life. The dojo is a place where we awaken our body, grow the self, and unite with the spirit through rigorous and compassionate life-enquiry.

Walking back towards the dojo I can see students bowing at the entrance of the dojo as they arrive for the evening's training. Bowing is a ritual in aikido, as it is in many martial arts. At the beginning of the class we bow in respect, and at the end of the class we bow in respect. It's also a way of acknowledging the place where we learn. I have a Buddhist friend who bows to any place where he feels learning and training have taken place. This has included hotel rooms, a grove of trees, delicatessens, park benches, a friend's living room, even a jail cell where he was once detained for an illegal protest.

My teacher once tapped me on the chest and said "Jiri shin kore dojo". Mind as it is, is the place of training. He was reminding me that the dojo ultimately lives inside us, in our hearts, speech, thoughts, and actions. The dojo exists because of the meaning we give it. This meaning can never be lost from its place in the world because it is that place. The dojo is where we declare it to be. Each moment can be a place of awakening, of learning, of walking toward life.

Whew! That bears reading and re-reading.

A dojo is a place where we train

Not only can we develop ourselves and our relationships with others, but we can also develop our relationship with a space. No matter what difficulties I am facing in the outside world I invariably feel better when I arrive -- or even in anticipation of arriving -- at a dojo that I know.

This same spirit that we invest in our dojos, we should labour to bring to our homes, our work-places, and our schools.

What is the ideal gender balance for a martial arts class?

Ideally, I would like a fifty-fifty male/female split in my class.

Most adult martial arts classes are male-dominated, kind of the mirror image of yoga, dance and aerobics classes. I think that this reflects cultural norms and pre-conceptions, rather than anything fundamental.

Oral tradition has it that the techniques of our school of jiu-jitsu were formalized by a group of Chinese buddhist nuns living in Japan in the 16th century, a group that no doubt would have needed effective self-defence! Consequently, our art is well-suited to women, although men can learn it too.

Melanie demonstrating the Nurse's Grip Gooseneck

Generally speaking, having girls and women in the class benefits the blokes. They bring grace, rhythm and a lower center of gravity. Usually not as strong, and often smaller, women and girls need to work hard on their technique from the outset. Their presence also helps diffuse the macho vibe that you tend to get in all male groups.

Conversely, girls and women benefit from having males in the class. If they are ever attacked, chances are that it will be by a male, and they need to feel and practice with the generally stronger and larger sex to achieve self-defence proficiency, and confidence in their own abilities.

A further argument for a mixed class is the same one for co-education in general: That we live in a mixed-sex society and that spending time together is good for our social development.

* * *

My own class has tended to follow the usual pattern of more males than females, although my senior student is female, and acts as a role model for other women who join the class. Lately we have had an influx of women, so hopefully we can keep 'em.

When I was working my way up through the student ranks I was part of a core group of 2 gals and 2 guys (Melanie, pictured above, was one of the gals) who trained together for about 5 years, and I found the mix beneficial.

What's the gender-balance like at your school? What would you like it to be? What are the factors that influence the balance?

You can stop at any time

I got a bit fired up today reading Michele's blog post: Should they have been allowed to quit karate? about whether a pair of sisters who had been signed up for a year's worth of karate classes by their dad, and were miserable, but were forced to persist. You can read my reply in the comments, along with several other perspectives, but the issue got me thinking about my own attitude to people starting and stopping training at my own club ...

At the Monash University Jiu-jitsu Club, you can start at any time. There are no beginners classes, or special intake periods. Just give me a call, drop me an e-mail, or turn up and have a chat and check out the class. If you like what you see, and I think you're ok you can come on the mat and do a try-out class or two before committing to membership.

If you are primarily interested in any or all of self-defence, personal development, improving your all-round fitness, sophisticated technique, and like one-on-one training the chances are good that you will really like our class.

On the other hand, if you are mainly looking for something more competition-oriented, bloodthirsty or spectacular, you will probably be happier elsewhere. That's not to say that we don't have competition, and can't dish out damage, or that our style is devoid of impressive moves; they just aren't our main priorities. Instead I encourage you to look elsewhere -- there are lots of schools around, and if you look around you should be able to find a better match for your needs.

In the same way that you can start at any time, you can stop too. There are no lock-in contracts. Most students pay for a block of lessons in advance to get a small discount, but that's not the point. I want people training week-in week-out because they want to learn and develop, not to "get their money's worth". In this respect I am helped by the fact that my club is a labor-of-love rather than a business, and that my students are all (at this time) adults. The rent charged by the university is also modest, so there is little financial pressure to grow numbers, and in turn we keep prices affordable (especially for students of the university) and also use club funds to subsidize membership, insurance and equipment.

You can start at any time, and -- if needs dictate -- stop. Many students have to leave to return to their homes overseas when they complete their university studies, or travel for work, and I'm always a little sad to see them go. On the other hand, it's really good when, after a hiatus of months or years, they return and pick-up where they left off.

Short-term vs long-term thinking

A snippet of advice on randori (free practice) Judo founder Jigoro Kano:

"In order to beat someone now, it is best for those who are strong to use that strength to overcome the other person's strength.  However, with that method, if you encounter an opponent who is much stronger than you are, you will naturally lose.  So, even if you lose for a while, the correct practice of randori is to learn to slip dexterously away from your opponent, adapt to his strength, cause him to lose his balance while stepping back, and then take advantage of that opportunity to perform a waza [technique].  If you do this kind of training for a while you will be twisted by the arm and held down, or pushed down by your opponent.  But if you do not frequently engage in this kind of training you will never learn how to beat a stronger opponent." -- From Mind Over Muscle: Writings from the founder of Judo 

The person who wants to win at all costs (now!) is not going to learn much, if anything at all.  The best that (s)he can hope to do is validate what has been developed previously: Does it work, now?  

Beginners usually do one of two things when they first start randori:

1. Fight like it's a life or death battle
2. Only make a half-hearted attempt

To go further requires an attitude that we value learning over winning (at least in the short-term), and to remain positive and not be discouraged by "loss of face" when "defeated".

Achieving this balance is not necessarily natural, obvious or straightforward.  Choosing to treat randori as a game -- serious, but also fun -- can help.  If you can learn to notice what works against you, already you are learning something - and profiting from the experience.

Structure and chaos

In commenting on a nice article over at Mokuren Dojo --  Heads up: Drills ARE kata -- I made the following observation:

Broadly speaking there are two poles to training: kata and randori.

If it's pre-arranged, it's kata. Otherwise there must some uncertainty (i.e. "ran" or chaos) so it's randori.

And it is not just true of the martial arts.  Other disciplines also show this division.  

Take music: Classical music is primarily pre-arranged; jazz is more improvised.  But it is not entirely clear-cut: A classical concerto usually has a section -- the cadenza -- where the soloist gets to show-off with an improvised solo.  Conversely, there are jazz standards that jazz musicians improvise around time and again.

Take theater: Plays are usually written down and brought to life in productions, but in impro(v) there is no script (really!) and invention occurs on the spot.  Again, the division is not absolutely clear: The expression "the show must go on on" comes from theater, and seasoned performers must improvise in written-out plays when something goes wrong.  In an interview with the actor Michael Caine he explained how he learned to "use the obstacle".  For example if a chair unexpectedly obstructed his entry into a scene in a play Caine would either get angry with it (in a drama) or fall over it (in a comedy).  On the impro side there are many games (think Theatresports) and set-ups to give some structure for the creativity to hang off.

Take science: From school science many (most?) get the impression that science is about learning what has gone before -- Newton's laws, rules of chemical composition, what bits make up a frog -- or following set recipes to recreate an experiment.  But original science is about discovery, formulating and testing hypotheses, making sense of a bunch of observations, bringing order to chaos.

Which brings me to my first point: 

Once upon a time the structured stuff was the product of a creative act (or acts), more akin to improvisation than recapitulation.  

The masters who formulated and codified katas, Mozart, Shakespeare, Newton etc. although "standing on the shoulders of giants" were playing with chaos, and bringing forth structure.

What about the rest of us?  Perhaps partly because of the lofty standards set by the luminaries who came before we shy away from even attempting to be original, or deliberately put down the old stuff as being worthless or out-of-date, but surely both attitudes are too extreme:

Most of us will do well -- in whatever field -- to study what came before, and also attempt to not only recreate, but create anew.

Pablo Picasso was first a wonderful draftsman, in a realistic style, and then he started to play with the rules.

Personally, in the areas where I have manifested more talent -- that is, where things came easily -- I have wanted less structure.  Let me figure it out myself!  Let me play!  On the other hand, where I have shown less ability, then I have craved structure to help me learn.

The traditional martial arts are complex and difficult.  Structure is needed, but so is chaos.  Traditionally randori, sparring, push hands, etc. have supplied the chaotic element in the form of competition.  But alternatives like simple games; figuring out combinations,counters, and self-defence applications; researching bunkai for kata movements; inventing new kata; etc. offer additional scope.

This year I will be giving more time to tuning the balance between structure and chaos in my own training and also in my teaching.

What is the format of a typical Jiu-Jitsu class?

At Monash University Jiu-jitsu club the weekly class goes for two hours, including setting up and putting away equipment.  Most classes follow a format that is quite standard within our federation, and serves as a template for a typical class:

1. Set-up: Lay out the mats, roll out the mat cover, put up the shomen, etc.
2. Opening ceremony: Everyone sits on there knees in their official spots, ceremonial words are spoken in Japanese, there is bowing.
3. Warm-up: No calisthenics or running, instead multiple individual break-falling exercises, which also teaches the students how to fall safely.
4. Balance-breaking exercise (in pairs): Before you can throw someone easily, you must first break his or her balance.  This is a formal exercise that develops this capability.  A bit like dancing, but both partners get a chance to lead (and follow).
5. Throwing practice (in pairs): Students break off into pairs.  The instructor demonstrates a throw or series of throws.  The students engage in cooperative practice, alternating throwing and being thrown.  The instructor circulates around the class between demonstrations, helping pairs of students.
6. Restraint and control (in pairs): Similar to throwing practice, but the instructor demonstrates joint-locking and other standing grappling techniques.
7. Groundwork practice (in pairs): Similar to the previous paired practice, but now the action takes place at ground-level.
8. Groundwork randori (in pairs): Competitive practice in which each person tries to best his partner by applying immobilizations, arm-locks and strangulation techniques.  A double-tap indicates submission.
9. Cool-down: Students line up in order of grade and go through a sequence of rolling break-falls.
10. Closing ceremony: Similar to the opening ceremony, different Japanese words, more bowing.
11. Brief Q&A: Questions, answers, and announcements
12. Pack-up: Put everything away, get changed, go home.

Within this format there is opportunity to reinforce the foundations of the system through repeated practice, plus scope for variety and challenge.  The instructor will vary the techniques practiced in each section, and the duration of the sections from week-to-week.  

Sometimes particular training sections may be shortened omitted, so that others may be lengthened or included.  Sometimes special subjects are substituted. Examples of these include: 

• Self-defence applications
• Stand-up randori
• Striking techniques
• Pressure-point techniques
• Weapon defences
• Combination and counter techniques
• Preparation for contest
• Kata practice
• Preparation for gradings

So there you have it.  A flexible, yet powerful structure for teaching and training Jiu-Jitsu (and classical Judo).

Mastery and Practice

When Pablo Casals, the cellist, was ninety-one years old, he was approached by a student who asked, "Master, why do you continue to practice?" Casals replied, "Because I am making progress." [1]

As we learn it is natural to hit plateaus from time to time. Through mindful practice we can progress through the plateaus, and onwards up the mountain.

The Master brings patience, consistency and perceptiveness to the journey.


[1] Norman Doidge, The Brain that Changes Itself, page 258, my favorite non-fiction book for 2008.

Evening up

In sports a constant problem is the mismatch. One competitor is stronger, bigger, faster, or more skillful than the other. To make things interesting sex, weight, and/or age and experience categories are often used, and sometimes a handicapping system is introduced.

In competitive training in the martial arts the mismatch is also a problem, for identical reasons, but it can also be an asset. In competitive practice -- such as judo's groundwork randori -- you can gain much more if your main objective is to learn rather than to win at all costs.

Let's say that you are big and strong, and your opponent is not. You have the option of using all your strength and weight to literally crush your opponent. That is the short road to victory, but a very long road to learning. So don't do it! Put away that advantage; wind it back to the same level (or just above) that of your partner and work on other aspects: Movement, technique, sensitivity.

In this way, when you go up against someone bigger and stronger than you (for example), you will have developed other sides to your game. The size and strength will still be there, but overall you will be more even.

The same advice applies to mis-matches in knowledge. If your arsenal of techniques is vastly greater than your opponent's, you should limit your repertoire of techniques. Concentrate on delivering a few techniques with finesse (for example), rather than relying heavily on the surprise factor of a technique that your opponent has never seen.

* * *

Even when I have the opportunity to evenly match students I still like to mix things up, creating mis-matches as well as even matches between partners. Why? Because having experienced people work with beginners is safer than beginner v. beginner, provides better learning for the beginner, and gives the more experienced partner freedom to experiment; smaller people should be exposed to larger partners as preparation for self-defence; brutes need to learn to be gentler, etc. And we all should practice with lots of different people.

In actual self-defence don't hold anything back, but in training learn today so that you can win (or survive) tomorrow.

To summarize: In competitive practice we need to even things up, and by doing so in a creative we can create opportunities for significant learning and development.

There's more to it than that

Quick, think of a particular martial arts movement. Picture it. Is it:

1. A throw
2. A lock
3. An escape
4. A strike to a vital point
   
5. A block
6. A trap
   
7. An exercise to enhance your health

Hopefully, it will be most of those things. The obvious application of a technique -- at least in a sophisticated martial art -- is just the tip of the iceberg.

It is good to learn the choreography.
It is good to figure out additional applications.
It is good to identify connections to other techniques.
It is very good to continue looking.

Most importantly: Keep practicing.

Elite selection or elite training?

It is not long now until the 2008 Olympic games commence on 8/8/8. My feelings are mixed. I love the spectacle and the internationalism, but am disappointed by the over-emphasis on winning which leads to dangerous drug-taking (and other extreme measures). Perhaps nowadays the Paralympics which follow in September are more in line with Baron Pierre de Coubertin's vision:

Baron Pierre de Coubertin, the founder of the Modern Olympic Games, was born in Paris in 1863 and was personally involved in fencing, rowing, boxing and cycling. His visits to British public schools resulted in a lifelong interest in trying to get the heavily academic French schools to take up more sports-oriented curricula. As an educational theorist, de Coubertin was convinced of the importance of sport for the development of the individual. He believed that the qualities of initiative, teamwork and fair play should be encouraged in young people through participation in school sports and competitive games.*

The modern Olympic games have become the poster-child for an elitist program for developing athletes:

1. Identify young people with exceptional potential in Olympic and other high-profile sports
   
2. Enroll them into national sports institutes for long periods
3. Train them full-time, often at the expense of other aspects of their education
   

In contrast to de Coubertin's amateur, generalist ideals this is a professional, specialist model, in which each country endeavors to create an elite for its greater glory. (As for the individual athletes, inclusion in such a training program is -- I guess -- a mixed blessing.)

* * *

In my martial arts experience I have enjoyed what may be termed "elite training" in the sense that it is of exceptional quality, and often demanding, but not restricted to a selected elite (thankfully!).

The overriding objective of the elite institutes is to develop athletes who can win in a narrow field of endeavor. By training in martial arts we can aspire to develop our potential fully and widely, and not just in a way which relies on the external benchmark of winning.

Remember, it is a win for you every time you overcome a limitation, learn a new skill, have an aha moment, or apply what you have learned in one area of your life somewhere else.

Learning a martial art can provide an avenue to train yourself to better meet the challenges of life.

You can start at any time

When fielding enquiries about my jiu-jitsu club I am often asked,"When does the next beginners' class start?" So I explain, "There is no beginners' class; you can start at any time".

Many people seem to be under the impression that most -- all? -- formal learning follows a stratified model, where there are beginners' classes, and then corresponding classes for each "standard". This approach gets drummed in at school, but it is not the only way.

In the system that I teach, we learn from each other, and we learn by teaching. It is no coincidence that we are part of a "Federation of Instructors"; through our training we learn to teach.

It is an old saying that you never learn something as well as when you have to teach someone else, and we harness this truth through pair practice. After the instructor demonstrates a technique -- for example a throw-- on an assistant, pairs of students -- typically of mixed standards -- practice it. One throws; the other is thrown; then alternation ensues. The raw beginner tries to grasp the basic movements; a more experienced student refines the details; a seasoned practitioner figures out how to apply the technique to partners of all shapes and sizes. The more experienced partner may give the junior partner tips (occasionally vice versa), and they both pick up details from each other.

So it is neither necessary nor desirable to have everybody of uniform standard in our classes.  Variety is the spice of life ... and of training.

Remember: You can start any time. Next step: Keep practicing.

Developing Social Qualities - Part I: Trust

Kancho, the grand-master of my style said: "The Martial Arts begin with trust".

I had just given my first martial arts seminar on The Science of Judo, in which I likened the training hall to a laboratory for personal experimentation, and it was generally well-received. But Kancho was making a fundamental point: Without trust between student and instructor, and between training partners, there can be little learning.

When you first step into the world of martial arts you need to make the decision to trust your instructor. This is critical, not only to learn, but for your own safety and that of your training partners.

Training in the martial arts involves learning deliberately dangerous techniques which must be practiced safely:

• There are throws: You need to learn to fall safely as quickly as possible, and to learn how to throw your partner safely
  
• There are strikes: You need to learn how to strike safely so that you are learning proper technique and distancing, without damaging your partner when (s)he fails to evade or redirect the strike
• There are joint-locks and strangles: You need to learn to apply these techniques slowly and gently, and when receiving signal submission when the technique takes effect and not be a hero by "toughing it out".
  

Maybe you are a skeptical person who thinks that trust must be earned and cannot be given. Then you should observe closely before joining a new class and ask yourself,

• "Is this instructor trustworthy?", and
• "Do the students trust each other?"

If the answer to either question is no, you should not join the class. If the answer is yes, then you can trust your own initial assessment and begin by trusting the instructor and your new class-mates.

Through on-going training, your trust for your instructor and training partners -- and their trust of you -- should grow, as you all practice in a sincere, safe and trustworthy manner.