By Walther Chen Walther is an Orange Belt at Wu Dao
I had a great time at the tournament held at Boston Kung-fu and Tai Chi. I was extremely proud to see many Wu Dao students perform well and with confidence.
As for my own experiences, I competed in Push Hands, which I enjoyed quite a bit. The tournament organizers arranged the judging so that a premium was placed on executing tai chi techniques as opposed to brute force. I think that we all had a lot of fun being pushed over, and I definitely learned more about the weaknesses in my own structure. I find that if one arm becomes busy with defending or attacking, the other arm becomes inactive. Somehow, I need to find a way to connect my body more so that everything works at once, instead of as separate parts.
I also performed the form, short Xiao Hong Quan.It was pretty difficult, I felt like my body couldn't settle down. I distinctly remember the feeling of my calves beingextremely tense, lifting me onto my toes, and my hips not feeling a full connection to the ground, so I couldn't express power very well. But, it did go much better than at the last tournament, where I lost balance over three times.
I credit my improvement to:
Showing up to training consistently and receiving good feedback from Shifu Tim
Some additional strength training which really helped my upper-body connection, especially my back strength.
Having the privilege of watching Shifu De Cheng move at the October workshop.
Although the tournament was only a small step in my Kung-Fu and Tai Chi progress, I am still glad that I was able to participate. I believe it was a valuable tool for stress-testing my body and mind in an unfamiliar environment, and I've gotten a little stronger because of it.
There exists a tale of an ancient tournament, taking place in a far away land, where martial artists would meet to determine the supreme champion....
...Actually, this tournament happened in July, in the somewhat-distant land of San Francisco. It has taken me quite a while to blog about the experience- which I will attribute to my own laziness, vaguely distressing memories, and mild dislike of the situation. Despite the feeling of vague dissatisfaction at the tournament, the experience as a whole was very rewarding.
Getting to the tournament turned out to be the first challenge; It was a long, restless flight to San Francisco, followed by a lengthy trip to the hotel. Everyone was arriving at different times, adding further confusion to the day. Having arrived early, I took the opportunity to explore San Fransisco with the help of my kungfu brother Walther, who I would like to thank for knowing all the good places to eat- without you and your iphone I would have made some poor decisions.
The opening day of the tournament was a tense affair. I was very glad for the presence and support of the rest of the Wu Dao team. Everyone’s nervousness (myself included) contributed to the chaotic atmosphere of the tournament. It was loud, there were so many people, the divisions were unclear, the location of events kept changing... in truth, not any different from a typical tournament scene- except that we had trained for months and flown thousands of miles to be here- which certainly added to the pressure.
Eventually, however, everything was sorted out and we found ourselves running from ring to ring in an attempt to either compete, provide support to our teammates, or film them competing. I was very proud of my compatriots; you could tell that the hours and hours of training paid off as it shone through in spite of nervousness, floor traction, what have you. My own form was scored lowest in my entire division, but that was nothing compared to the payoff of hearing Sifu say that was the best he'd ever seen me do the form. Oddly enough, I felt good about the form as well, in spite of the low ratings. I suppose it is possible that the greatest reward was being able to compete and test myself and my training against others, but this is a very high-minded ideal and difficult to focus on when everyone else is getting shiny medals to take home.
Sifu ended up providing us with a lot of support and pointers on our first day, but the single greatest moment was watching him bawl out a referee for his poor judging. I don’t usually take issue with judging at a competition- after all, everyone has different expectations of what they want to see from a martial artist, and I’ve usually resigned myself to this fact before the tournament has started- but this man’s oversight with regards to the Tai-Chi he was officiating was criminal. It did not help that Walther was suffering due to his negligence. I felt robbed. I’m sure Walther felt worse.
When the first day ended and everyone had performed well, we headed off to dinner. The evening’s activities included a show put on by the hosts of the tournament. I’ve found that these things can be hit or miss, and this one was largely miss- based purely on the severity of Sifu’s scowl. On the upside it did feature a man well into his eighties performing kungfu- proof that this is a sustainable hobby. We did not stay for the entire production.
Day two dawned, and that meant that it was time to spar! Originally I had not planned on sparring, as I had developed bursitis of the left elbow just days prior to the tournament (also know as water on the elbow- a painful condition that swells the elbow to size and consistency of a grapefruit). However, yesterday’s activities had left something to be desired. To be honest, I am guilty of not leaving my ego at the door- I had worked hard these past months and I wanted to take something home! I wasn’t going to let this piddly little elbow problem stop me! Not after so much suffering to get here!
With that thought smoldering in my mind I joined my other team members (Sissi, Melvin) in gearing up. During the gearing up phase Sissi was almost disqualified because she was not wearing sufficient armor- at Wu Dao we do not train wearing chest/ midsection armor. Fortunately, we were able to convince the judges to allow her to compete. I was very gratified to overhear a conversation occurring behind me that went something like this:
Person A: What’s that school? Isn’t that girl going to wear any padding? Person B: (No hesitation, just a hint of awe?) That’s Wu Dao!
Not bad name brand recognition over the course of a single day, eh?
As the fights unfolded, I was disqualified for drawing blood (again) but this also managed to earn me a silver medal, so I was content. Additionally I was not injured, having wrapped my arm up in bandages and ice packs. The real showstoppers were Melvin and Sissi:
Melvin: Fought a much bigger Wing Chun fighter to a win over the course of three rounds. It was like watching a train get up to speed. The first round the judges gave to the WC fighter, though Melvin put up a very respectable fight. The second round found Melvin running the man around the ring, working him from a number of different angles and with different strikes. Round three, even though I know both fighters were exhausted, was a climactic battle wherein Melvin clearly dominated his opponent the entire round. Watching him adapt and employ all the things we see in class was truly satisfying.
Sissi: Faced off against some sort of South American kick-boxing champion. This was the classic battle of sport karate versus martial arts. Sissi’s stance was rooted, her guard was up, and all her strikes were firm and deliberate (but quick). Her opponent, on the other hand, bounced around the ring (in what can only be called the absence of a stance) and constantly dropped her hands, leaving her entire head and body open (good thing she had that armor). The result of this fight is immaterial- you could tell the better martial artist in the opening stances.
With the conclusion of the sparring, we were left to our own devices to celebrate the 4th of July in San Francisco. It was a good reward for all those months of training and days of competition.
In my mind the tournament itself was nothing to get excited over, but the experience of being there with the folks competing was what made the entire ordeal worth it. Not just the tournament, mind you, but the months and months of suffering and training as well.I hope to attend future tournaments and get the same experience (except maybe win some more things) Until that time it is back to the training hall for another hundred thousand repetitions.
My tournament was a little bit of a disappointment , which is probably why it's taken so long to blog about it.
I competed in three events: beginner forms for kung fu, beginner forms for tai chi, and push hands. The first two, I was able to perform decently. For my short xiao hong quan, I tipped over a couple of times (a combination of carpet and nerves), but I felt I did the best I could considering my training up to that point.
Where I surprised myself was in push hands. I became pretty upset after I lost the one round I competed in (there was only one other participant). I think that going against a competitor in a match really brought out my competitive juices, and I also was very frustrated by my inability to cope with his tactics. Literally being pushed around can be quite aggravating.
So, where to go from here? One half of the solution is to simply get better. As Shifu mentioned after the tournament, one of the goals in training is to become good enough that there is no doubt who is the best. The other half is to accept that losing can be good: it exposed my weaknesses, knocked down my ego, and provided a great motivation for training.
By Melvin Geronimo Melvin Blue Belt student at Wu Dao As the count down began for the ICMAC ( International Chinese Martial Arts Championships ) in San Francisco, the training intensified. Training for this competition was a bit difficult and different when compared to the last competition our school attended. It was and sometimes still is more of a motivational and mental challenge for me. Tuesdays and Thursdays of the week, I am assisting on training newer students in the first class and I am training in the second class. Most of the advanced students come to the first class and sometimes do not stay and train in the second class. As a result, I find myself training and pushing myself on my own since Shifu is usually busy training newer students. Don't get me wrong, I love that I was presented with this opportunity to help train newer students. It's just definitely a lot easier to train hard and push yourself when training with a partner or group, but when you are on your own, it's a mentally and motivationally challenging. But as the saying goes, "There is no rest for the wicked" and I had to keep in mind that training is more than just physical, it's also mental.
For the about three months we spent most of the time focusing on the Shaolin Hand Form. At the beginning, when we first learned this form I felt as if I was behind. The more advanced students had the opportunity to train and practice the form in both classes while I only had one class to focus and train. My Kung Fu brothers and sisters were far ahead on the form than I was, I felt as if I was being rushed to learn the whole form and started getting mentally dishearten that I wasn't going to learn it completely before the tournament. But once I have finished learning the form from beginning to end we broke it down into a series count and each week we focused on a different part of the form, drilling it down and smoothing it out. This type of training was intense and exhausting, my body felt as if I was hit by a car after every class, but also felt incredibly rewarding at the same time. I felt better and better about the form as the weeks drew on. We also maintained this type of training with the Shaolin Staff Form, breaking it down and focusing on each series count and putting it all together as the tournament date became closer and closer.
A few weeks before our trip to San Francisco, I decided that I needed more training. I asked Shifu if I would be able to train in the first class instead of assisting and he said that was a good idea. Although thinking that an increase my training would help, I hit a speed bump. I started having lower back pains that was excruciating. I noticed that it was very painful to even bend over and try to touch my toes. I tried to mentally block the pain and push onward and even started to take muscle relaxants to see if that would help ease my pain. It was less than a week before the tournament and it felt as if my back wasn't getting any better. I was fearing that I wasn't going to be able to compete. Feeling discourage about it, I decided to take two days off to rest. Just with those two days of rest my back felt better, almost like new. When you're instincts and your body is telling you that you need rest, you need to listen to it no matter what. Pushing yourself and training hard is one thing, but you also need to let the body rest and heal itself.
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a green belt at Wu Dao
More than enough time has passed since the tournament, so here is a little retrospective analysis of how the two-day event transpired:
Saturday:
After getting an unexpectedly good night's sleep and eating a whopping $50 worth of breakfast ($30 for my FIRST breakfast, then $20 for TWO EGGS at the insanely overpriced hotel), I was rearing to go. My back felt stiff while I was warming up, but other than that my body felt good to go.
Before I give a brief recap about how my forms went, let me take a minute to complain about the tournament venue's carpeting. This carpet was soft. We're talking "The Princess and the Pea" soft. There may have been some sort of adhesive sprayed on as well, which did not make turning or spinning a pleasant endeavor. We all were a bit apprehensive about this, primarily because both Xiao Hong Chuan and Zhen Shan Gun both involve frequent 360 and 180 degree turns. Being stopped by friction halfway through a turn is not a very pleasant experience. Yes, I know, being a martial artist means you need to be able to adapt to any environment, but c'mon, let me complain just this once.
On to the Hand Form!
I was the fifth person in my division to compete. Despite the sticky floor, everything transpired relatively smoothly. Just like last year's competition, I didn't feel like my form had as much power to it as usual, and I probably rushed through it a bit. Overall, I was fairly satisfied with how it went. I even had some people (including an old Chinese man with a long white beard, cane, and a HOOK for a hand) come up to me afterwards and compliment me on my form.
The majority of my competition utilized the expected plethora of wispy kicks, theatrical hand gestures and terrible stance work that one finds all too often polluting traditional forms divisions. This sort of flowery performance is so prevalent in Kung Fu that it's starting to become expected. A conversation my Shi-Fu had during my form:
Random Kid: I don't like this form. He looks too stiff. Shi-Fu: He's just doing the movements cleanly. Random Kid: ...Well I don't like it.
Thanks, random kid. Although looking back at the video as an armchair quarterback, I did look pretty stiff:
...Shortly after I finished with my first division, the muscles in my left upper back really started to tense up on me. No matter how many times my wife walked on my back or massaged the afflicted area, the pain just wouldn't go away.
Which partially explains...
My Staff Form!
While my experience last year in this tournament circuit had taught me to expect that advanced hand forms divisions start almost immediately after the opening ceremony, it also taught me that the advanced weapons forms divisions would start... sometime. After lunch. Probably. If they found enough judges. While this infinitely mysterious time schedule isn't necessarily the worst thing in the world (such is the way of track meets, martial arts tournaments, and all events involving more than 20 people), I was getting a little anxious as the hours ticked by and I found it harder and harder to move my torso to the left.
Our ring assignment finally was announced at about a quarter past infinity. The officials apparently couldn't decide which ring they wanted to hold the weapons division, so we shuffled from ring to ring a little while longer, warming up and cooling down. They finally settled on a ring, possibly because the head judge finally deemed his chair cushion to be comfortable enough and the stars to be in alignment or something. We then all sat down to bide our time as about 10,000 Choy Lay Fut competitors with spears went through the same form, over and over again.
My execution of Zhen Shan Gun was OK, barring the tremendous screw-up at the very beginning. I suppose it may have been the carpet, or my back’s mutiny against me, but my very first move landed me in a stutter-step. I spent the rest of the form on what must have been autopilot, stewing with that first misstep burned into my mind. I didn’t score well, which I expected. The head judge later approached me and said “you would have scored so much higher if you hadn’t made such an obvious error,” confirming my prediction. The winner was the one Choy Lay Fut competitor who competed with a staff. His form really stood out; crisp, clean, and powerful. Melvin (from my school) also performed his staff form very well, but was robbed by the sea of identical spear competitors.
(Taken the instant before I lost footing. Thanks for making me look good! You can also note the judge in the right hand corner staring down at his doodles. Well done.)
Sunday
While I didn’t spar in this tournament, I think it’s definitely worth a quick mention about how well all the students at my school did. It was rather validating to see that our training allowed us to move and fight martially in the ring, instead of in the hands-down kick-boxing style that everyone else seemed to fight with.
Closing Thoughts (OR: Lessons Learned for Future Tournaments)
Competing in a tournament is EXHAUSTING, and not for the reasons you'd expect. Warming up, cooling down, standing around while the AC is blasting, running back and forth from ring to ring, keeping hydrated, eating enough throughout the day; these all stack up against you very quickly.
Unless you leave no doubt in anyone's mind, the judging for any competition will be almost at random. There are too many inexperienced judges, too much observer fatigue, and too many competitors out there to expect the judging to be an unbiased, logical, repeatable activity. While this occurred universally throughout the tournament, it was made particularly obvious while watching the fixed step push-hands competition. Walther, our lone push-hands competitor went against an opponent whose sole concept of fixed step was to barrel into his opponent and fall over. The judges apparently did not consider this blatant foot movement against the rules (for anyone unfamiliar with push-hands terminology, “fixed-step” means you can’t move your feet), and awarded him the win. Even he seemed confused as to why he had won, and kept shrugging to people as they handed him the gold medal.
While an important part of martial arts training, forms should not be overemphasized. There needs to be a clear link from form to function, or martial arts forms quickly regress into gymnastics and meaningless flailing. It may look pretty, but it is NOT martial. Take the current level of my staff form. My movements, while technically correct, do not have all that much true understanding behind them. Sure, I understood what the majority of the movements were designed to do, but they hadn’t been internalized in a way that I would be able to instinctively use them in a confrontation. Focusing on truly understanding the movements that make up a form or technique will vastly improve your martial skill.
Making an error (in a form, life, whatever) is not necessarily the end of the world. Everyone makes mistakes. How you react, compensate, and utilize to those mistakes determines how you are seen.
Thank you!
I’d like to thank everyone for the tremendous level of support over the past several months. I really can’t say enough about how much it means to have such generous and caring people in my life. So thank you, once again. Your help made this tournament experience possible.
OK, I think I’ve been typing for long enough. Until next time, and keep training!
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
<-I had a bit too much time on my hands this morning, can you tell?
So. There are only 3 days left until the tournament. I wish I could say that I’ve been feeling excited and fearless and rearing to go, but for the past week I’ve been feeling more restless and nervous than anything else.
Last Saturday Shi-Fu video-taped us doing our forms so we could see how we’ve progressed. Good GRIEF everything looked off. Video-taping yourself can certainly be a cruel, abrupt wake-up call for your ego. I made the mistake of watching myself on video a few too many times, mercilessly pausing the video and cringing at every mis-step, bad stance and flimsy arm position along the way.
For about 18 hours I went into crisis mode, stressed and worried about how my form would look at the competition. I picked apart every little mistake I was making, how high I was in my stances, how little intent and power I looked like I had, etc, etc. It didn’t help knowing that there was no real way that my form or technique could improve with less than a week before the tournament. As the expression goes, the hay’s in the barn.
Then I thought back about why I decided to start competing in the first place. The worry and self-conscious critique melted away. I had forgotten that the tournament was simply a useful goal to help inspire me into train harder and bring my training to a different level. The overall outcome, while hopefully good, wasn’t the reason I got started doing this. I didn’t go into training for this tournament thinking I would turn out to be a legendary Shaolin warrior in three months’ time. I went into it thinking that I would give it the best I had, train as hard as I could, and see what the result would be on me as a martial artist. The fact that I can so effectively critique faults and errors in my movements during and after I do them says something very positive about my current level of training.
I’m going into this Saturday with a clear and tranquil mind, with the knowledge that I will come out with a whole plethora of things to focus on in my training.
Scarcely a week remains before the big competition, and in any feel-good-overcome-all-odds-to-discover-yourself-and-get-the-girl kungfu movie it would be about time for a training montage. The montage is often the best part of the film; for some reason we enjoy watching people toil and suffer as the execute tasks only barely connected to their end goal of martial arts mastery (sanding floors, waxing cars, painting houses, etc). Maybe we enjoy the weird things they do, or the moment all those weird things suddenly make sense and are revealed to be kungfu moves. At the end of the montage though, our 98-lb weakling with a glass jaw has become an unstoppable kungfu machine.
We all know (or should know) that this scenario is so far fetched as to border on the ridiculous. However, I had an unexpectedly "montage-y" moment last night in kungfu- and I was absolutely as excited about it as I would have been watching a movie. Let me explain-
Preparing for the tournament has narrowed the focus of our martial arts training. We have spent a great deal of time doing forms, refining our movements and correcting flaws in our techniques. What we have not been doing with similar regularity is pound away at the heavy bags. Bag work is great- great fun, great exercise, and a great way to gauge how powerful your technique is without actually hitting someone. Hitting a heavy bag also tends to shift your focus towards generating power, rather than refining your technique.
Imagine my surprise when I stepped up to the heavy bag for the first time in months and unleashed a devastating kick that sent the bag flying! Where had this come from? I hadn't worked on kicking things as hard as I could for months. What's more, I was exhausted and struggling to make it through the second class. Out of practice and with out of gas, I almost wondered if maybe Sifu had dumped some sand out of the bags.
In the warm glow of (confused) accomplishment the past month spent correcting techniques, kicking air, repeating excruciatingly fine detail work played through my head- and I'll be damned if it didn't feel as though I were at the tail end of a montage! I am certain that the additional training we were doing contributed to my improved kicks, and yet we never actually focused on being able to kick the bags hard.
So aside from swelling with pride* at my new kicks, my experience made me reflect upon how we can always be training kungfu, even if it does not particularly feel like it. While it is true that you cannot get good at something you do not work hard at, sometimes you don’t even know you are doing the hard work. Doing "downward dog" or 10-elements fist does not feel like it would or should help my kicks- but maybe it does. Every time you practice, you extend your capabilities by a small degree and further refine your control, power, and precision. Naturally this will extend to the rest of the body as well- which can have some surprising results.
*(Pride which lasted maybe half an hour before being ground down under further merciless kungfu training)
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
Last year, a little over a week before I was competing I realized my form was too short for the advanced division (there was a 45 second minimum length). After tinkered around a bit and adding a few extra moves, I wound up adding enough time to avoid any time penalty.
One of the relatively silly rules that you will find in many tournaments is that you have to start and finish a form in the same "quadrant." This becomes a problem if the particular form you've decided to do isn't designed to actually start and finish in the same place. This year, we had to add a few extra moves to Zhen Shan Gun in order for it to start and finish in the same spot.
The form with the new variation looks a little like the video below, minus the look of total exhaustion and overall lack of intent in any of the movements.
The video is courtesy of my mom, who decided to tape me after I'd been training for an hour in slightly over-sized borrowed running shoes (we were at my parent's house and I forgot my martial arts shoes at home).
One of the major reasons behind learning a form is to develop the fluid transitions necessary to connect individual techniques into fighting application (you certainly wouldn't want to reset yourself after every technique you did). But this is only one stage of martial training. Besides what you see in Hollywood, fights are not made up of choreographed routines or sequential forms. Settling into predictable rhythms can be deadly in a confrontation. The world is unexpected, and you must learn to respond to this uncertainty. While it's caused me many a headache, improvisation and adaptation are fundamental components of martial arts training. While routines are comfortable and very helpful, change can be good, and very helpful. Now if only I can get these new moves memorized...
By David Mandeix David Mandeix is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
This week has been an interesting mix for me, a veritable potpourri of training experience. Some of it was good, most of it was painful, but at the end of the week I'm still here and wanting more.
Monday Monday was an excellent class, a real pick-me-up at the end of a long day. Having spent all Sunday resting, my motions felt very crisp and snappy. Encouraged by this, I pushed myself very hard that class. Exhaustion coupled with an overall feeling of well-being is a rare, but enjoyable sensation.
Tuesday Coming off a strong Monday class, I may have pushed this class a little too hard. I was encouraged by signs of progress- oddly enough being able to feel when a motion is wrong or when a limb is out of place is sometimes more satisfying than getting the motion right. At the end of the first class I had to call it quits. I really dislike doing this sort of thing, because I feel that the sign of a good martial artist is endurance and the ability to perform at peak ability for an extended period of time. After all, it is easy to knock a person out accidentally. The hallmark of skill would be being able to knock people out consistently. Good technique should not be an accident. Anyway, I gassed out and went home to try to rest and refuel.
Wednesday I woke up exhausted. Or rather, still exhausted. On days like this Wednesday it is great to read other blogs and know that I'm not the only one feeling like this. Even better is getting to class and seeing my classmates and looking at them and knowing that the share the exhaustion. Nevertheless, it says something that we showed up. Wednesday class ended up being great- I like to think of it as Kungfu for the soul. With the tournament looming there has been endless form repetitions, and a steadily rising physical demand on our bodies. We have been focusing on one side of kungfu exclusively for a while, and it was refreshing to get into the theoretical/ metaphysical side. A brief meditation session left me feeling recharged, and a detailed examination of the transition of circular to linear motion helped me to understand (if not yet preform) certain kungfu movements better. While not physically taxing, it was good to approach Kungfu from the other side. The addition of some serious yoga stretches also helped us climb out of the exhausted rut we'd been in.
Thursday Sometimes, the form just clicks together and my intent and motions align perfectly to create smooth, powerful technique. When this happens, the form becomes much less taxing to preform and seems to resonate within me. This occurs only once in a great while, but it usually gives me enough to keep me going until the next time it happens. I felt a few seconds of that harmony Thursday night. Clearly, Wednesday did me worlds of good- far more than I expected, as I was able to stick through both classes. Although they were tiring, I was happy to discover that my body was not at the point of failure at the end of the evening. I even had enough energy to preform a form in front of the class (completely different from doing it without anyone watching!).
Additional observation: Exercises we were once proficient in (Tan Tui-s, push ups, etc.) get rusty very fast, regardless of muscle growth in the area or how good we were last time. By extrapolation, the same must go for forms. Endless repetitions- justified.
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
As I've whined about in my last training-related posts, my body has been disagreeing (and sometimes SCREAMING) with me for training so much. My body felt like it was a hundred years old and my mind was on autopilot. You could say it was from the humidity, not enough calorie intake, not training intelligently, whatever. Bottom line was that I desperately needed to recharge my batteries.
I wound up not going to any classes until Thursday and Saturday. These 4 days off really did wonders for me. For one, it made me focus to make sure I got some really good training in during the couple of days I had to do it. It also got my body rested enough to the point where I felt great. Most importantly, I was getting more out of class than if had been trudging through it like a zombie in a fog of tired indifference.
Obviously, if I want to be fully prepared for this tournament, I won't be able to train anywhere as infrequently as last week. However, this experience did give me a little more insight about sustainable training levels. Occasionally pushing training frequency aside to make sure you're doing quality training can be rejuvenating and very rewarding.
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
(hŭ tóu shé wĕi)
It's an old Chinese proverb that captures how too many of us approach new ideas, activities and assignments. We start out doing many things with the gung-ho enthusiastic abandon that's usually reserved for soccer fanatics (i.e. the tiger's head). Inevitably, time whittles away at that initial ferocity, until our involvement looks as flimsy and inconsequential as, you guessed it, the proverbial snake's tail.
I'm currently fighting to avoid this proverb's lackluster results, as my training has wained a bit in this past week. I still go out almost every day and train for a good hour to an hour and a half, but what I accomplish during that time is decreasing. I didn't THINK the sheer repetition of practicing forms over and over would get to me, but maybe it is. Either that, or my body is having a hard time waking up in early mornings I've been training (6:15am is early). When I think about it, my body hasn't really felt fresh in weeks. Trying to adjust to such a heavy training load in such humid weather is probably contributing to this constant struggle for momentum.
Despite all the aforementioned whining, I've been feeling an marked difference in how my forms feel, as well as my overall comfort while training. Sure, my legs might feel like they're trudging through molasses while I'm practicing kung fu, but they're trudging more naturally through that molasses than they were a month ago.
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
Saturday marked the end of my first week of intensive tournament training. Things went really well almost all week, (I went to 6 classes according to my incredibly nerdy spreadsheet), until around Friday when I completely lost all steam and became a walking zombie. No matter how much I tried to psych myself up, I just couldn't get my body to go. When my crescent kicks started to look like they'd only be able to reach a 3 year old's knees, I decided it might be a good idea to take it little easy and not go to class on Saturday. I tried to go out and train on my own on the weekend, but my body still felt like it was moving through molasses. I forced myself to take Monday completely off to give my body a rest and get my energy level back, and that seems to have worked. Now it's just the heat I have to contend with.
It's suddenly gotten hotter in Boston. A lot hotter. Yesterday was in the 90's. This kind of temperature is normally reserved for August.
Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the heat. In fact, I thrive in it. But my uniforms are getting so soaked that they barely have enough time to dry before the next time they're worn. I know, gross, I don't wash my uniform after each time I wear it. But it's kind of hard to do that when you don't have laundry and you're going to class two times in one day.
One of the things I've noticed is that training in the heat gets me very loose and very flexible, very quickly. While it IS awesome to say "hey look at me, a full split after only about a minute of warming up!," this also tricks me into pushing myself a lot harder than I normally would, which leaves me completely exhausted and spent after only a single class. I'll have to be careful over the next couple days not to overstep my bounds. We'll see if this heat wave breaks as quickly as it came. Now that it's getting hotter, and training is getting more intense, I'll have to pay a lot closer attention to my body in order to train intelligently in the days coming up to the tournament.
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
We had our first "Tournament Meeting" this weekend. Logistics were planned, fighting divisions were confirmed, nutrition advice was given, and training strategies/goals were discussed.
Basically, our agreed goal is to practice each form 500 times between now and the tournament. For the next four weeks we'll be breaking our forms down into four parts, concentrating on a single section each week.
The only real way to really internalize a form's movements is through repetition. There's an old the adage that's made its way through many a martial arts circle: "If you practice a technique 1,000 times, you know the technique. Practice it 10,000 times, you are the technique." Three months before the DC competition last year I decided I would at least try to get to the "knowing" stage of my form, and practiced it 10 times a day every day until the tournament. My martial arts improved leaps and bounds.
At this point, with less than two months until the tournament, I realistically can't expect to complete 1,000 repetitions of both forms. However, 500 seemed like a very reasonable amount. I calculated that doing each form 12 times a day, 6 days a week would more or less get me to the 500 mark.
I got started with this routine on Sunday morning. My plan was to practice the first section of Xiao Hong Chuan (my hand form) 5 times slowly, the whole form once slowly, the first section 5 times full speed, and then the whole form once at full speed. I did the same with Zhen Shan Gun (my staff form). Total time: ~1/2 hour.
Great! This seemed much easier than I thought it would be.
Then I did some more figuring. Being the computer geek that I am, I made an excel training log (tracking number of miles run, classes attended, forms completed, etc). It was only after writing some snazzy excel functions that I realized the total number of form sections I'll be doing this month won't add up to enough whole forms for me to be on target.
If I want to stay honest, those 10 form sections I went through suddenly can only be counted as 2.5. So my original training estimation was a bit light. By about 250. Uh oh. Some more accurate arithmetic revealed that for the next month I'll have to do these form sections about 25 times per day to stay on target. Looks like I'll be outside a bit longer in the morning.
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
I was zapped of all energy and my stomach was feeling off when I got home from work, so I didn't make it to kung fu yesterday. Instead, I decided to run 3 miles hard and do forms practice for an hour. Does this chain of events make sense to you? My gut feeling says it doesn't.
After a quick shower, I was forced with the daunting task of making dinner. I decided to follow the lead of (neverhome)maker's recent post about stir-fry and quinoa. Some cut up veggies, a lime, soy sauce, and a whole lot of peanut butter later, I had myself a rather delicious meal. To give the quinoa some added flavor, I cooked it in some vegetable stock from our freezer.
(for the curious, that's onion, carrot, broccoli and radish)
"But, doesn't that basically look like just a bunch of cooked vegetables on top some quinoa?"
Indeed. I didn't make a lot of sauce. Woops. In my defense, I was halfway delusional from my workout. I also forgot to add any protein beyond the peanut butter, so I got hungry again about 30 seconds after eating the metric ton of vegetables and grain (but a protein shake remedied that situation).
Another drawback from cooking while extremely tired is the volume of dishes produced. I think some cheesey before/after pictures convey this issue appropriately (OK, I admit, the pictures were taken in reverse. But I'm trying to illustrate a point here):
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
Starting my mornings with Kung Fu has been a fantastic way to feel alive and FULL of energy! For about one hour. After that, the endorphins start to wear out. The daily beating I've been giving to my body starts to catch up with me. I start feeling old muscle pains from injuries that happened years ago. I get incredibly sleepy. And...
The insatiable hunger begins. So far I have eaten a GIGANTIC lunch, about a pound of carrots/celery/hummus, yogurt and granola, and a Clif bar, all after my breakfast. And I'm still starving. I am currently chowing down on a large zip-lock bag full of crackers that I found while scrounging for food deep in the depths of my office desk drawer. I do not know how long they've been here, and frankly I do not care. I wonder if there's anything in the fridge...
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
I've been trying to actually eat something after I get home from Kung Fu. The problem lies in the fact that once I'm home, all I usually want to do is find something to eat that doesn't involve any preparation whatsoever. My wife will readily attest that most of the time I wind up standing in the kitchen doorway, staring blankly at our shelves full of uncooked grains and dried goods. Once I finally start getting yelled at to "hurry up and eat something, it's getting really late," I usually just grab a couple of bananas or apples and chomp on them in an unsuccessful attempt to replenish my tank after a hard workout.
One solution to my reluctance to cook at 10 o'clock at night has been to make a "breakfast dinner." Since my breakfasts normally consist of incredibly fast and simple things (breakfast sandwiches, scrambled eggs and toast, yogurt and granola, cereal, etc, etc), making breakfast as a second dinner seems like a fairly safe way to get out of coming out of my post-workout autopilot (leftovers from our initial dinner are usually already used up to make lunch for the next day).
Last night was a yogurt and granola night. I tend to get a little carried away with the additions, adding handfuls of raisins, cranberries, and walnuts, entire coconuts, etc. For instance:
Can you find the yogurt in this picture? I can't.
By the end of the mini-feast I was definitely full, though I should probably start coming up with some more breakfast ideas so I don't get sick of yogurt and granola (I've had it for almost every breakfast for the past month). Does anyone have any suggestions on some slightly original, but still fairly easy to make breakfast ideas?
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
I broke my staff on Saturday.
Last week I finished learning the staff form I'll be doing at the tournament (Zhen Shan Gun). Since Saturday was going to be a very busy day (and no time for kung fu class), I woke up early to train for a couple of hours on the abandoned asphalt lot close to our apartment. It was already blazing hot by 7:00am, which really helped me loosen up quickly. A few minutes into training in the sun and I was moving. It felt great to finally get into the rhythm of a form, repeating sections over and over until I got them right.
With all the unbridled enthusiasm, I got a little overzealous. After finishing one particularly spirited round about an hour into training, I looked down to see a very discernible crack branching from one of the wood's knots near the bottom of my staff.
I was heartbroken. I did some hand forms for a little while, then trotted back home to give my staff some emergency TLC.
I’ve broken many a wooden stick in the past. Back when I was doing Capoeira, I cannot tell you how many Berimbaus I have shattered while stringing them up (cold, dry weather is no friend of pliable wooden instruments). Repairing them usually involved a lot of cursing, wood or Gorilla glue, and hefty coils of string around the afflicted area. For my staff, I used some wood glue in the cracks, clamped it, and hoped for the best. I might tape it up after I sand down the small amount of excess glue, depending on how the binding feels.
I highly doubt this repair will last (the impact of repeatedly slamming a piece of wood onto the ground is a lot greater than the stress of repeatedly bowing a wooden musical instrument), but for now it’ll allow me to at least tread lightly throughout my staff training until I get a new one.
Lesson learned: When training with weapons, handle them with the utmost respect and care. Know their limits, and always beware the unforgiving nature of asphalt.
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
As you probably noticed from my post on Monday, I had a rough start to training this week. After Monday's failed attempt at a morning run, I woke up with a little more determination and actually DID get out of bed, and enjoyed a great 3 mile run to start my day.
Wednesday morning rolled around, and I felt inspired enough (from missing training on Tuesday night) to go to the morning class. To my surprise, class was run by Shi-Shong Orlando, freshly off the plane from his trip training at Shi De Cheng's school in Deng Feng, China (he blogged about his training while he was there, go check it out!). After a week of intensive nonstop Shaolin training, he certainly had a few torturous tricks up his sleeve that still have me sore two days later. As I struggle to pick up a fallen pencil, we'll see how I fare tonight during my usual Thursday night double class.
I've been battling to balance two key components of good martial arts: having intent in your movements, and not leading with your face. Overcompensation for one has me neglecting the other, and visa versa. It's been rather challenging, but at least I'm starting to recognize it when it happens (And as they say, recognizing a problem exists is half the battle). I'm sure I have a lot of frustrating days ahead of me as I try to get this right.
By Julius Anastasio Julius Anastasio is a Green Belt at Wu Dao
Saturday Kung Fu class is usually one of the hardest classes of the week. It's only an hour-long (instead of 1.5), so obviously we need to make up for lost time. Lately, our Shi Fu has been increasing the class's intensity more than usual; I'm completely soaked in sweat about 1 minute into class instead of 15. This Saturday was no different, where we found ourselves doing things like jogging around the school while carrying 100lb heavy bags over our heads and holding horse stances until our legs gave out. Once open training rolled around, spinning a staff around basically turned into an exercise of counting how many times I was able to conceal cringes of pain when I slipped and slammed the staff into my shins (I lost count after around 25). Talk about shin conditioning.
With classes like this in mind, lately I've noticed that my endurance is getting fairly abysmal. Even if I'm only practicing longer forms at medium/fast speeds I'm sucking wind after a surprisingly short amount of time. So I decided the best way to build my cardiovascular strength back up was to start running regularly again. Last Tuesday was my first "test workout" to see just how far my fitness has slipped from my collegiate running days. Basically, I've slipped quite far. Possibly all the way to the bottom of the Mariana Trench. I needed a specific running goal to get things into action, so I vowed to get up every weekday morning and for quick 3 mile run. As planned, this morning at 6:15 my alarm went off, I woke up, I JUMPED out of bed, and... promptly scrambled back into bed slept until 7. This is not a promising start. I might manage to get a run in after work today, but I really want to get in the habit of morning runs. Does anyone have any ideas here? I'm all ears.
