Today was all about the judicious use of energy. Every day life is an overwhelming iteration of today's lesson, which made it fascinating to explore the concept of balancing energy and outcomes in a controlled environment. This is true for anyone, so we all have to learn this in our own ways. Though out of context, a phrase I heard spoken to the new class spoke to my frustration with the amount of effort it takes to put less effort into an action:
"I am just this way."
Laurel-Sensei
The drills we did were centered on relaxing, which was, paradoxically, rather hard work. The point was to only tense what needed tension, and only for as long as possible. The point was conservation. The point was to be judicious. The point was exactly what success with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome is like. In that sense, as it often turns out, having EDS put me at an advantage.
We paired up. While one karateka punched slowly, the other waited until the very last moment to tighten up the abdomen in order to sustain the blow. Alternating this practice for several minutes gave us a chance to think about, feel about, and get to know which muscles we needed to use and which ones we could keep relaxed. It took a deliberate exhalation and wiggle to relax those core muscles, especially after repeated blows, even though the blows were slow and light.
Next I learned the difference between a push to stop someone and a push to engage someone. It seemed that the difference is in the degree of push and the amount of effort spent on that one short, limited physical contact. On the street this would be one of those 2.ideas where first impressions are everything, because the way one declines a first approach can be a simple declension, or it can be an escalation.
Sensei applied a method to relax the forearms, developed by Nakamura Tetsuji-Sensei, by loosening the hands immediately after a strike. We fell into shiko dachi (square stance) and punched downward with both hands. After extending the fists downward, the objective was to relax immediately and allow them to fly back up freely, in whatever direction they would go.
I had a hard time with Nakamura's practice for many reasons: 1. Shiko dachi is very scary because I never know when I will land wrong and get hurt, so I become scared and apprehensive. 2. I am trained by my efforts in physiotherapy to always tense larger muscles first. Working with smaller muscles today revealed to me that I still need to focus on smaller and finer muscle tone, because my elbows kept dislocating. In order to focus on not dislocating my elbows I nixed the shiko dachi stance and just focused on a downward punch and the subsequent rebound. That made it really strange, because my body was in the way of a proper downward punch, all the wrong muscles were tensed, and my speed and power were terribly affected. Unfortunately, I get into these incredibly deep assessments simply because I have to preserve my joints, and I lose the point of the drill. But I did my best, and that is the point of the entire practice. Although I was frustrated, I was later comforted when I heard, "I am simply this way." This is it, folks. If I want to practice, not every punch will be a fatal blow. I just have to try again and again, like everyone else, until I find a successful way to adapt. "Don't lose heart," says Tony-Sensei. In line with the day's lesson, I let this lesson go, practiced it more gently, and reserved my energy for the next one.
Using mae geri (front kick) and mawashi geri (roundhouse kick) we practiced striking, and then relaxing our legs in between strikes. Sensei explained that, when it's time for an endurance drill or fight, every second of rest is vital. Being clever at timing and reserving energy in a fight can allow one's opponent to tire himself out before a fighter makes a concentrated effort to end the fight as quickly as possible.
A benefit of seiryoku zenyou is that a larger opponent may be left to tire himself out, giving a smaller opponent an advantage, assuming they survive the strikes. Every dog has his day, they say.
On my penultimate (next-to-last) mawashi geri I landed wrong on my left leg and I felt my knee dislocate. But I only had one strike left, and I went for it. That sealed the deal, and I spent the rest of the class unable to stand. It's a good thing I had spent time practicing balance on one leg earlier that morning. I had to sit down for the next bit of instruction, and Laurel-Sensei was kind toward me in letting me sit down, but still making sure I could see and hear. I had been running fluids the entire time, so I had the refrigerated saline bag attached to me. I tossed the bag under my knee and elevated it a little. Even a few minutes of rest and elevation made a world of difference. When it was time to line up my limp was far less pronounced than it would have been. In a real-life application, I had just done what we'd spent the last hour doing: rest when needed, work when needed.
Okay, so I limped out of there. That could have happened anywhere. I rarely, if ever, get injured in karate. I end up sore and tired, but we are taught so well and carefully that I never have fear, but always have respect for myself and others. Landing wrong and dislocating happens every day, and every step I take is carefully measured. I spent a year and a half after diagnosis learning to walk and move safely, which dramatically reduced my injuries to about one-third the frequency and severity of the prior twenty five years. How easy would it be to say, "See that? You dislocated. You shouldn't be doing karate." But it happens no matter what I do: I am just this way. If being this way (i.e., having EDS) ever catches up to me, and I get to the point that I can no longer practice (fat chance - it's in my blood now!), I will remember that when I could, I did.
If you want to learn more about your life, you have to wake up early and show up to live it.
Be well.
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