On my last year in college, at a time when I felt too old to learn something new physically after having done some running and body building, my batch mate took us to the high school field. He had been a medalist in judo which he started only in college, a pretty significant achievement for someone who did not start out in the discipline in his younger age.
In the field he showed us some of the basics of the martial art, which he said began with rolling. Pretty cool stuff, considering that if you want to effectively drop your opponent to the ground you better be comfortable with dropping down yourself. I was quite hesitant to learn it, giving premium to my soft head. True enough, my fears were soon warranted when my head hit the ground hard after the first attempt.
I didn’t realize till much later that the fact that my friend was good in judo did not mean he was good at teaching it, though by now that painful experience had left a lasting mark on me- I declared that I was never going to touch that rolling stuff anymore, with my head far too precious to risk.
That was almost 20 years ago.
Fast forward 2007, now with four kids and 60+ pounds later, my wife and I enrolled our kids in aikido, of which I had the faintest idea. We chaperoned them through the first month and I saw how similar it was to judo, in fact I learned later that judo was one of the sources of aikido. So the rolling and the falling were marked qualities of the exercises- and there were lots of it.
Flash back to 18 years when I promised to keep away from the sport. Rest assured my position remained intact. What was fascinating was that for my kids, the rolling and falling came pretty natural, like spiders thrown to a web.
Then I heard the most outrageous suggestion- my wife snuggled up to me in her characteristic charmingly dominant fashion and said, “Why don’t we try it?” At the mere suggestion my heart pounded to the gruesome prospect of mangled old bodies, contorted joints, and busted skulls.
But of course, not wanting to sound like a wimp, I gulped, “Sure!” And we did, and the beginnings were terrible. All of a sudden the world was turned upside down. Here in the dojo the three kids in our family were the experts, frolicking all over the mats, while the adult were, well, cautious, and hopelessly inflexible to say the least. For the first time I’d see from the corner of my eye, my 9 year old son look painfully at how I tried, and desperately failed to back roll because some stupid joint got in the way, and he’d later come up to me and say, “It’s ok, you’ll get it pops!” and I’d dutifully reply, “Thank you son!’
To add insult to you know what (and there are by now lots of it by now if you know what I mean), my wife, ever the initiator, and mainly that, decided to jump ship! Her back’s had enough she declared, so it was time to pursue her first love, dancing (which she swears is to this day is still evading her. But that’s another story…), leaving me with my kids to continue practice. Actually I felt beaten to the punch, since she declared it first, now I feel I have to carry the burden of being a model to my kids, and what a painfully mangled model I foresaw in the months to come.
But persistence always has its rewards, if it does not kill you first. Now I can roll, many times… not the way i would want to yet, but I’m working on it. And over a year after that painful beginning, I’m actually enjoying the art! Then last May my 11 year old Nicov and I passed our exam for the yellow belt!
I will reserve another entry for that experience, but just to close with the mystery that almost 20 years later, at a time past the prime of youth, I engage in a martial art that should have had its day eons ago, and yet here I am. I feel the aching joints are right where they should be, and this old body better accept hundreds of slams on the mat, coz I’m gonna be practicing aikido for a long long time. Second chances are ours for the taking. And they should have told me that it’s sweet when we do.