If I were to write a book, this would be the first chapter…
The thing is. I never feel ready. I always want to have that last edge, that last technique, that last salad, that last workout...But the reality is it's not the last thing I do that will make the difference, it’s everything I do on a consistent basis every, single day. Months of training, eating perfectly, active recovery, rest. Everything I do in my power to the best of my abilities to guarantee I will perform at my best that day. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. You either win or you learn, life sure loves to throw a person a lot of learning when they step out onto that ledge.
I leave the cool California breeze to step into a venue that is way too hot and stuffy with the intense energy that will suck the life out of a person. Walking forward I look over the rail of the balcony that leads bleachers down to frame the competition mats below. Yelling, so much yelling of coaches and teammates who are screaming their advice, energy and support to the athletes on the competition mats who you would think are fighting for their last day on earth.
The thing is, it’s on those mats where the real truth is displayed. Those who have worked hard, and those haven’t, those who are mentally strong, and those who aren’t, those who are champions and those who aren’t. And sometimes, it is not just about who’s the best, it’s about who’s the best that day. Sometimes it may be your day, other times not. I just need to move the odds into my favour through preparations. Jiu-Jitsu is very unforgiving, there’s no dishonesty, if you don’t put the time in it shows on those competition mats. I’m not just talking physically, I’m talking mentally too. I have been in the best shape of my life and lost tournaments, and I’ve been unprepared physically due to injury or illness but mentally been in the right mindset, and have won. Jiu-Jitsu knows if you have put the time into the grind, and it will respect you, and if you haven’t will tear your ego apart.
Sometimes, the sad truth is it’s also about what type of Jiu-Jitsu. I’ve had some previous coaches who have capitalized on teaching me the fanciest stuff ever, the wrong stuff at the wrong time, and I lost. Didn’t matter how many hours and work I spent preparing, I was barking up the wrong tree. I learnt I can be really damn good, at the wrong type of jiu-jitsu game and I will lose. Because there is Jiu-Jitsu, then there is world class Jiu-Jitsu.
After worlds at brown belt, I lost matches I shouldn’t have lost. Everyone was telling me I ‘did really well’, ‘I did my best’, ‘I’ll get them next time’...
Then my phone rang: ‘You lost a match and you should have won. What the hell were you doing out there? I’ll see you Wednesday night to train’. I got wrung out, because someone saw that my potential was all on the wrong game on the wrong path. Then I’ve had my current coaches who understand the power of a strong strategic game and foundations and have brought me to world titles. Superdave. He’s the kindest soul you’ll ever meet but will take no bs when it’s time to work. Because he knows I can take it.
I took a look at the competition mats over the railing, I showed up a few hours before my division started. Because depending on how the matches go before me, if they go the entire time of the round it will be a few hours and my division will start on time. If the matches end quickly because of submissions, then my time to compete will be pushed closer, fast. It’s the worst feeling in the world getting called two minutes before my division is due and I’m running into the venue pulling my gi out of my backpack to get changed as I’m ripping down the bullpen. I always show up a few hours earlier. My first boxing coach Brian Jones told me, ‘when you get there, you get changed and you get ready so when you're called you are prepared’. He was telling me this when I was a kid preparing for amature boxing fights, now I’m an adult at the biggest Jiu-Jitsu tournaments in the world and I still do that. I find the washroom, get changed into my competition gear that I packed and double checked so many times to make sure it’s all there.
Then I wait. Sometimes my division is called earlier, sometimes it’s later, and it always feels like eternity. Yet surreal at the same time, I’ve worked for months to be here right now. Hours of strategic training, cross training, carefully calculated diet, rest, I did it all. And now I’m here. It’s surreal because I think the time will never come, but it does. I settle onto the floor of the venue, using my backpack as a pillow, and rest. Simply close my eyes, keeping updated on the schedule on my phone. When the time comes closer I pull out my skipping rope, I just can’t break that old habit. It’s safe. Back from the years of boxing and muay thai the skipping rope got the blood moving, the footwork going, and I turned on my music and focus. I don’t know if skipping is the best warmup, but it’s the best for me, it’s what I know and it’s what I use, it’s what I’m comfortable with. It goes back longer than a decade. It brings the intensity and pressure from my first coaches from when I was a kid. Brian would tell me ‘just barely get a light sweat on, then you are warm enough’, then I stretch.
Everything so perfectly set up, everything laid out so well. I head over to the bullpen (where all the athletes wait to compete, and return after competing). Eventually my name gets called and I get checked (gi, weight, braces, hair, etc) to compete. Then I’m the second bullpen, I’ll be up any minute. I’m in the second bullpen, with the girls I’ll be going against. It is shocking, they are all a spitting image of me. Strong, healthy, and hungry. I’m not so special anymore, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, and this is where we find out if my preparations were enough.
I stretch, I squat, I move, I stay limber, the first match is always the hardest. If I win I continue on, if I lose I’m out of the tournament. I’ve had both. As I wait I watch competitors head onto the mats, and return. One competitor comes back, packs up their things with frustrated energy and leaves, back to the drawing board. The other competitor stays. Waits for the next match. The ring coordinator calls me, checks my id then calls my opponent. We eye eachother up, don’t even try to hide it, sometimes we wish each other a friendly ‘good luck’, sometimes not, either way it’s no big deal to me. We walk to our mat, I look to see where my coach is so I know what direction to listen and look during the match. If I went to the tournament alone, I look to see where my opponent's coach is so I can do the exact opposite of what she is coached to do. I’ll use her coach as mine. Ref goes to the centre of the mat, I’m standing on the edge of the mat waiting to be waived in. It’s now that I realize how damn bright those lights overhead are, and how many people there are in the bleachers, how insanely loud the yelling is, and how I’m finally here. Ref waives us in, as I walk on the mats I’m always reminded how darn slippery those competition mats are. I shake his hand, then shake my opponent's hand. Now it’s time to play.
A ten minute match is the fastest ten minutes of my life but at the same time feels like eternity. I can feel her energy as we begin gripping and moving, each of us working to execute our game plan first and put the opponent onto the defensive. Jiu-Jitsu is like a game of human chess, either try to get the dominant position or a submission, simple enough? Hitting the higher levels I study my opponents and I’m sure they study me, watching what they do, what they are good at, how they have evolved, what their game is, how they execute, how can I try to beat it? So we have a game of what is happening back and forth in a match, just like chess. Points, what about points, advantages, penalties, here is our next move. It’s crazy to think this game of chess consists of choking eachother out (if we don’t tap will be choked unconscious), or trying to break each others limbs (again, tapping comes in handy to do before that happens). I’ve studied the rules, I know what positions constitute what points, changes of advantages, and how far I can push it before I get a penalty, and how many penalties before I get disqualified. Sometimes I use my knowledge to take risks for the win, and I use it to see how many penalties I can get before I get disqualified, because I need to use this for the win. When I wrestle in the gym I keep track of all of this in my mind. So in the tournament I know, when I sweep to mount I need to keep that position like my life depends on it to get those six points. At the end of the match I need to dig deep to defend that sweep (sweep: opponent going from the bottom position to the more dominant top position) that will give the opponent two points. ‘If i can just hold this off until the bell goes’. And I do. The bell goes, it’s done, I let her sweep me after the bell has gone. Why? Because it doesn’t matter now. But more importantly, I need to save energy for my next match.
We head back to the bullpen, this time, I’m the competitor that stays, my opponent packs up her things to leave. In my younger days, I would judge athletes in the bullpen. Why aren’t they stretching the whole time? Why aren’t they staying warm? They should be doing better, they should be staying warm. What didn’t I understand then that I understand now? You just can’t. In a ten hour day of competing, you just can’t be moving the entire day. I go to my next match, I earn another win. Back to the bullpen. Then the process repeats for hours. I win my division, my weight, my belt level. Now, I wait for the open division, my belt all weights. For hours, and hours, and hours, match after match, after match. It all comes down to Jiu-Jitsu. There is no lying here. You can’t fake Jiu-Jitsu. Just rest until the next match.
The open is an entirely different beast, only the competitors that earned medals are allowed in the open. I’ve competed for a few hours already, I’ve had the adrenaline peak and the adrenaline spike, it’s 7:00 pm, I’ve been here since 10 am. My open division gets called, I move through the gi check. This time, I put my backpack on the floor which is my new pillow and lay on the floor, and turn on my tunes. I need to save my energy for every single match. I wonder ‘how the heck am I supposed to keep competing”. But, the other girls can do it, and if they can, I can too. I’ve been in tournaments that ran so late all the spectators left, it’s just me, my opponent, and the staff tearing down the tournament around us. But it doesn’t matter what time it is, it doesn’t matter what match it is, it doesn’t matter how tired I am, none of it matters. What matters is right in front of me. If I were told I would be competing over a span of 10 hours today, I wouldn't know how I would do it. But I did, and I still do. Because, we just don’t know what we are capable of until we have to do it. Then we can. I honestly believe there is a gap between the mind and body. David Goggins wasn’t too far off when he talked about his 40% rule. The body is like a vehicle that can go 250 MPH. But at 60MPH the body starts to get uncomfortable so the mind tries to find ways to stop it. The mind needs to protect the body, it’s what it's meant to do, and that is good, within reason. At 60MPH the body can still go, it’s barely started, it can go all the way to 250MPH. But it’s uncomfortable, and that’s ok. It never gets easier, you just get more used to it. Because when it starts to get easy, the champions will always find a way to level up, staying challenged, make it harder, grow. . Getting comfortable with being uncomfortable, it’s a thing. During covid I would go on trail runs up crazy hills just so I could get to that place of discomfort, get used to being there. It’s not fun, it’s not easy. But it’s necessary. Because it’s this that makes us grow and keeps us alive. We aren’t meant to be comfortable and stagnant, that’s a lie. It’s a lie that is so easy to buy into it. Don’t misunderstand, it’s ok to enjoy life, it’s not ok to become complacent. Because as humans we are meant to move, to be challenged, to grow, to learn. As soon as we become complacent we begin missing the point. Become comfortable with being uncomfortable. And if you're comfortable with every area of your life, it’s time to find a challenge of some sort. Because otherwise, we become stagnant and weak. Anyone can jump on social media with some motivational words and nicely made posters, few can lead by example and show what the grind really looks like.
That’s why I hate Jiu-Jitsu but at the same time I love it, because I know I need it. It keeps me accountable, it keeps me strong, it keeps me challenged, and Lord knows it keeps me humble. It keeps me so humble, and I am not a humble person. I’m not, I have an ego and it hurts my ego to admit this, but it can take it. Not because I want to, but because I have to.
Preparing for the world championship I thought would be so glorious, just like a rocky movie. Cheesy but motivating music in the background, early runs in the rain, lifting heavy weights, destroying all my training partners in rounds...This will be glorious!
“You will allow every single training partner to get your back (in Jiu-Jitsu that is a dominant position that can lead to a choke) so you can work on your escapes” …. I think, “What? Pardon me?” “You will allow every single training partner to get mount on you, so you can work on your mount escapes”(mount is subjectively the best position in Jiu-jitsu, where the opponent is on top and wants to finish you with a choke or submission)....”Pardon me?” . This was my homework from Superdave. Not to work on my strengths but my weaknesses. Goodbye Rocky movie. So, there is this female black belt, who is deemed a double world champion at masters brown belt, and white belts are taking her back, the blue belts are on mount. The lower belts have so much less experience, how are they dominating this black belt? She must not be very good, how on earth did she win a title? How is she a seven time Pan Am champion at multiple belts? My poor, poor ego. I must take it out for a coffee date or something after this. Honestly, the hardest thing I have ever had to do, I am proud of my medals, I have worked incredibly hard for my achievements. But the mats in the gym are no space to work on my strengths, it is time to work on my weaknesses. Because if I don’t, my weaknesses will show in competition. After this, I don’t know if my ego will ever talk to me again, I might need someone else to take it out for a coffee for me. But to say this again, on the mats in the academy is the opportunity to work on the weak links, because that’s how the gold medals find their way to the walls of that very same academy. It’s about me, doing what I need to do, to win.
I’m in the tournament, I finish my match in the open. The team is so pumped and excited, ‘she’s going to the finals next!’, “she is doing so great!” I’m in the bullpen again, waiting. I look at my phone, Superdave has texted me: “You better not have worn out your forearms”. Aka, nothing flashy, nothing fancy, save your energy, were in it for the long haul, it doesn’t matter if I have won by 3 points or 17, it matters that I have utilized my energy wisely to get as close to that gold as possible. He’s not phased, if I’m lucky he might say ‘good work last match’, but this is no time for celebration. Everyone else is excited and he’s keeping me honest, the work isn’t done yet. He’s watching my opponents intently, watching their games. Letting me know what to watch for and what to do, it’s no time for celebration yet. It’s time to work.
That’s a good coach. He focuses on saving energy, focussing on the opponents and myself, and moving onto the next match.
I remember my first tournament at black, ‘why am I even here’. I’m in London with Superdave, and we're both exhausted. I’ve been attending the first ever Yoga For BJJ Training with Sebastian Brosche, and training at Roger Gracies. For a tournament venue that has the name ‘Crystal Palace’, ‘it sure is an old building’ I think as I walk in. It smells of an old gymnasium, the brick walls look even older - I swear I could see peeks of outside through them. I go through the routine, I check out the competition mats, I get changed, I wait. But this time, it’s 4 am canadian time, but in London it’s time to compete. First tournament at black. As I move through my matches I realize that this is Jiu-Jitsu, I’ve done this all before, and there are no techniques I haven’t met yet (no thanks to my ego), I am able to move, escape and attack due to all my humbling hard work on the academy mats.
I’ve made it to the final in the open, against the best in the world. Alex’s (Alessandro Romagnoli) words come to me, my sports physiologist that I’ve recently met at the Yoga For BJJ Teacher training. I need the teammates and everyone to not make this a big deal, because it isn’t, I need to do what i need to do. And everyone needs to shut up.
As I lay on the floor with my head on my backpack pillow, I wait to be called. I need to say that all the girls I have ever competed against in Jiu-Jitsu (and even more so as I reach the higher belts) are just kind, nice, and competitive as all hell. Exactly how it should be. I step on the mat with the best in the world, and honestly don’t even know how I’ve made it here at my first tournament at black, and we work. We have three ref’s, one on each side of the mat and one in the middle, the match goes to decision. The scoreboard is even. Against the best in the world.
You never know what you are capable of, until you have to do it. This where you discover you are capable of so much more you ever realized. But if you never challenge yourself, how will you ever know? Comfort is wonderful, it’s good in balance, it’s needed in balance. But too much of anything is never good.
It was a lot of work to fundraise my trip, the jet lag almost killed me because I’m a sissy apparently in that regard, it was work to get the venue, it took an insane amount of courage to wrap my black belt around my waist and head into the first black belt tournament I’ve ever been in….’Do I even belong here?’
As a white and blue belt I would always stay at the tournament venues and watch the purple belts, brown belts, black belts. I would watch them compete, I would watch them move, I would watch them wrestling, I watch the winners go on, I would watch the losers cope with their losses. I would watch for hours. Then when I couldn’t watch at the venue anymore because the team wanted to leave, I would watch online. I wanted to be that black belt, I wanted to do what they were doing, because it was incredible. And as I stepped onto those mats, under the lights that were way too bright, and the crowd that was way too loud, the comp mats that’s were way too slippery, and in a moment that was way too surreal, I was there. That was me.
Earning my black belt was one of the hardest if not the hardest thing I have ever done. And that’s why I had to do it. It was a battle against myself in so many ways, my ego, my laziness, my choices of what I want now to what I want most, learning to appreciate the victories and work through the failures. I would like to say it’s fun, it’s like that rocky movie, it’s extravagant, it’s great. It’s everything I thought it would be. In reality, it’s everything I thought it wouldn’t be. It’s hard, it’s humbling, it’s the grind, the only way out is through. I take my wins on the training and competition mats humbly, because I know there is a challenge around the corner that is better than I am, for now. The wins are humbling and the losses are hard. I remember my first tournament at brown belt, I trained so incredibly hard, to the best of my knowledge and to the best of my ability but, I was barking up the wrong tree and didn’t even know it. Training the wrong kind of Jiu Jitsu, focusing on the wrong techniques. I got subbed under the first minute. I was upset, I was pissed, and you know what? That’s ok. The surreal moment of ‘I’m finally here’, and it’s over so quickly, that’s what putting yourself on the line is all about. Jiu-Jitsu is very unforgiving and this world can be very cold, I can fundraise thousands of dollars for my trip, train like a savage for months and do everything perfectly, but guess what? It wasn’t enough. It’s over in under a minute. This is what will make people or break them. This is what lights the fire under them to continue moving forward or stops them in their tracks as they realize it might just not be worth it to them. Why is it worth it to me? It’s honestly probably out of proportion, how many parties and events I’ve missed because I had to ‘train’, how many good meals I didn’t partake in because I was ‘cutting weight’, how much I didn’t do, so I could prove to myself what I needed to do at the largest tournaments the in the world.
I’ve been on both sides, I’ve lost under a minute and I’ve competed for an entire day and won world titles. I’ve been there. Why do I do it? Because it keeps me strong, it keeps me motivated, it keeps me challenged, it keeps me from becoming soft and weak. No motivational or nice speeches here, only the grind (and that can be fun in its sadistic way), but after months I find out what the definition of the ‘grind’ really means. I do it because it keeps me moving forward as the best version of myself that I can be. I don’t do it for my parents, I don’t do it for my students, I don’t do it for my significant other, because none of that is enough. I do it for me. Many days it's not fun, and many days I don’t enjoy it, and many times I leave the gym with defeats and my head held high and other times I lose it from frustration. It’s not a glorious journey and many times it’s not a fun one. But when I step to first place on that podium, and receive that gold medal, it isn’t about first place at all, and it isn’t about the gold at all. It’s about what I did, to get there, to accomplish that. I was the best person, that day, in that tournament. I did everything I knew how in my knowledge and my experience to prepare for that tournament, and this time it worked out well. It’s about who I became to get that, and I became better. This time I won. This time I was able to win against myself. Against my demons (for lack of better phrase)...’I’m tired but I need to train tonight’, ‘I hate being tapped by this lower belt but I need to work on my escapes (will you at least take my poor ego out for a nice starbucks coffee?)’, ‘I hate this salad but I need my weight to be down’, ‘the last thing in the world i need is a damn kettle bells workout, but I know i need it’, ‘i don’t want to go to bed early’, ‘I don't’ want to miss out on those few drinks with friends’, ‘i can’t sit here and eat anymore chicken’.
But when I’m the one to sit in the bullpen as my opponents pack up their things to leave, when I’m the one to have my hands raised after each match, when I’m the one to go back to my hotel room and look at my gold medal, it makes it all worth it. Not because I beat anyone else, but because I beat myself. My weakness, my voice in my head I didn't listen to that justifies everything to make it ‘ok’ to take that day off when it isn’t ok...I know I did well today. And if I didn’t win, if I didn’t do well today, I’ll be back. My first tournament at brown I lost in the first match under a minute, my last tournament at brown I made it to the finals of the open division. It’s so easy to ‘give up’, to be a ‘club athlete’, to ‘feel like a hero’ in the club. But in reality, is it tho? Is it really? I would rather be tapped by lower belts on the training mats working on my weaknesses to win world titles, than win on the training mats by capitalizing on my strengths and winning on the mats but losing in the tournaments.
It’s not easy, I’ve been in matches where I’ve been in a bad position, looked at the clock and there is one minute and thirty seconds left. I’ve spent fifteen hundred dollars on this trip, I’ve put months of training into this trip, and now, I’m in the match for gold. What they say is true, the only way out is through. I’ll say it again, the only way out is through. You need to dig deep, bury the heels and tuck your chin and move through the storm. I find the gear, I find the sweep, I find the escape, I find the submission. So much of it is mental, my opponent has thought she has won but I don’t break so easily. I almost did. My forearms are so exhausted I can barely grip, deep in my gut I’ve been moving so much and my heart rate so high I want to vomit, everything inside me screams to give up. I just wanted this to be over. It’s so easy for this to be over. But there is one minute left. Only sixty seconds, the longest sixty seconds of my life at that time at that moment. It’s so easy to give up, but the cost is so high.I need to prove to myself, what I can do. I can feel my opponent's energy, she thought she had won, but did she, but this time did she? I dig deep and find a gear I didn’t even know I had, and this gear doesn’t make any sense at all, but I find it. I take the sweep for the points for the win, I take the submission for the win. It’s not over until it’s over. It is absolutely incredible to see what the body is capable of when the mind is in check. I just beat a multiple time world champion.
I don’t do this because it is easy. I don’t do it because I enjoy it. I do it because it is hard. And ‘hard’, was never enough of a reason for me to quit, for me to give up. ‘Hard’ was the reason for me to dig deep, to tuck my chin, and to do it. It’s not glorious, it’s not fun, but the insane part of us that drives us to be uncomfortable, to be strong, to challenge needs this. Because this is what keeps us alive, this is an element of what we were meant for.
I don’t do it because I love it, I do it because it’s hard.
And that is what makes me addicted.
. . . And this is my journey, and this is my story.
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