Archive for month: May, 2017

I just finished a week of intense training in the Caribbean and I had already started thinking about my next camp in USA, Maine. My final destination of this 3 months journey. My body was however feeling it, I had pushed myself past my limits. All my joints ached and I had no gas  on my tank. I knew if I was to be ready for the next camp I had to take it a little slower until then. Luckily I had planned 2 weeks in the States with some of my good friends from the El Salvador camp and it shouldn’t to rough of a schedule.

I flew into N.Y. city and it was as crazy as I remembered it. I took the subway to my bus station, forgetting Rachel’s warning about that. In the subway I sat down in the corner and noticed a clearly drunk, muscular homeless man clinching a spring together for excersice. I looked to my right in search for help and next to me was another man who was doing all kinds of creepy twisting motions while mumbling to himself. In all my travels through Central America and supposedly some of the more dangerous countries in the world I felt the most unsafe in the subway system in New York.

I arrived in the middle of the night to Binghamton, upstate N.Y. and was greeted by one of Rachel’s infamous hugs. It was really nice to see an familiar face. I crashed at her house for a few days, enjoying her hospitality to the fullest. I felt like a king after all those hostels nights. Rachel had planned a camping trip in the middle of nowhere in the forest. She really wanted to proof to me there was more to N.Y. then the city. Trust me, she did. It was beautiful, we went hiking, we ate all the typical American Camping treats and drank loads of beer. Perfect way to wind down after all that training the week before.

We worked our way to Boston where our friend Bianca had offered us to stay for a few days. We stayed with her and her family and their hospitality was off the chart. I got filled up with food and my body was finally starting to recover. I was able to teach a class at her gym, Florian MMA center, on judo for BJJ.

Now arriving in Maine I feel refreshed and ready for an good week of intense training. My schedule was nice and for these two weeks. I only trained 4 times in these weeks and it left me with withdrawals from BJJ. It’s going to be good week here in Maine.

 

I’m on the road, and it’s about time! This post is a few days overdue, but driving 1,000 miles in four days takes up way more time than one would anticipate. Let’s dive into my first week on the road! I trained at a number of gyms this week, but this post is going to focus on the first gym I stopped at away from home: Roots Athletics.

Tucked away off Brandywine Street in Historic Philadelphia, a small crew of incredibly dedicated, talented athletes has taken up shop at Roots Athletics. I actually first heard about Roots almost a year ago after seeing a Jits Magazine post about one of their then-blue belts, Morgan Beverly. Morgan had been in the process of starting up here YouTube channel/vLog that she’d dedicated to her jiu jitsu life. From her YouTube, I’d ended up following her on Instagram and, in the process, saw how inherently beautiful her gym was. 

Although I’ve lived in the greater New York City area my entire life, I’d never made the two-hour journey to my former nation’s capital of Philly. Although the thought of Philly Cheesesteaks combined with a number of “Rocky” viewings stirred my curiosity about visiting, the opportunity never arose to take a trip. Finally, when planning my trip, it just seemed natural that I’d stop in Philly along the way.

I left New Jersey on Tuesday morning after spending the last few days for a while with my girlfriend. Although the goodbye was tearful, there was an immense curiosity and excitement that rumbled in my belly. I had Facebook messaged Roots the previous day asking if I could come by for their 11 a.m. Gi class; they swiftly responded saying they’d be happy to have me. I drove into Philly right around 10:30 and found the gym by 10:45 after getting turned around once or twice. I’m used to driving in Manhattan, but Philly was a different ballgame.

I walked into the gym and was impressed by the sheer cleanliness of the school: the pristine white mats, the full apparel shop right when you walk in, the plants that added a touch of clean ruggedness to the aura, etc. Everything had a place, and every place had a thin4g.

I was greeted by a number of students sitting by the front desk who were getting ready for class. Kyle, one of the senior purple belts, introduced himself and had me fill out a waiver before showing me to the locker room. I got changed, took a breath, and stepped on the mats. 

The head instructor, Levi LeBlond, introduced himself, asked a few questions about my trip and the Globetrotters blog, and seemed thoroughly interested in everything I was doing with my journey; I could tell this was a guy who truly cared about those who he taught (even if they weren’t his regular students!) I was then introduced to Professor Gilson Fernandes, an intense (but incredibly kind) Brazilian who I’d soon find out was Levi’s instructor. As it turns out, I’d come into town on the second day of Gilson’s three-day stretch in Philly, during which he was teaching classes at Roots!

 

 

Overall, the 10am class was very typical of most BJJ classes I’ve taken: a short calisthenic warm up, positional drilling, then rolling at the end of class. There were about nine people, ranging from white belts to purple belts. Although the class was typical, I was struck by how GOOD these guys and girls were. The everyone, even the newer white belts, had incredible top pressure, tight open guard games, positional awareness I’d only dreamed of at white belt, and so on. I found myself struggling as their games matched mine very similarly; spider guard, De la Riva, RDLR, etc. It was a strange feeling, having my game so similarly matched, but an amazing one nonetheless. 

 

 

After class ended, Professor Levi thanked me for coming and asked if I’d be back for that night’s 7pm Competition Class. I hadn’t planned on training twice that day, and had planned on seeing as much of the city as I could before heading to Washington D.C. the next day, but I accepted the invitation gladly. Morgan joked, “You should probably write your Globetrotters blog before comp class!” and then mimicked some struggled typing. We all got a good chuckle out of that. I went to the bathroom, showered, and headed off to see the city! Before I left, I’d asked Levi if I could wash my Gi in one of the washers in the locker room. He told me to drop my Gi in the hamper and that they’d have it ready for me when I got back to class that night. 

Before walking out the door, I asked the room full of Philadelphia natives a slightly controversial question: “Where am I getting my Philly Cheesesteak?”

I was met with a number of suggestions, but the unanimous winner was Jim’s on South Street. Well, Jim’s on South Street, you were about to meet a cheesesteak fiend. I drove the ten minutes from the gym to South St. and parked around the corner from Jim’s. South Street was quite the sight: thrift shops, food shops, oddities stores, and even the so-called “Condom World”. The thought popped into my head how lucky I was to be living my dream. 

 

 

I walked into Jim’s, ordered my PCS with Provolone (not a fan of Cheese Whiz, Sorry friends!), got my sandwich, and went to dig in. My thoughts? The sandwich was good, but slightly disappointing. The steak was dry and slightly lacking in flavor. I might have made the mistake of not getting whiz. Oh well. Live and learn!

No trip to Philly would be complete without the Rocky steps. I drove across town, parked my car, and within minutes was standing at the base of the Philadelphia Art Museum. I took the sight in, and left without running up the steps. There was something about the droves of middle school field trips that made running up the steps seem, I don’t know, cheesy. If I was gonna do it, it was gonna be wearing grey sweats and a winter hat in the dead of winter. 

I walked back to my car and, having a few hours to kill, decided to organize my car a little bit. I’ll be doing a full rundown of my excursion Jeep soon, so stay tuned! With an hour and a half left before class, I decided to take a last minute trip to see some of the more historical parts of Philly: Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell. I’ve never been much of a fan of tourist centrals, but I DO love American History. 

I walked back into the gym for 7pm class, grabbed my clean Gi, suited up, and stepped back on the mats. I was surprised to see that the class was being taught by Professor Gilson; he’d only watched the morning class. Little did I know, I was in for quite the ringer. Warm Ups seemed to go on forever: a short calisthenic workout was superseded by 15 minutes of non-stop standup drills. Standing grip breaks, double leg entries, judo throw entries, sprawls, etc. By the end of warming up, I was drenched with sweat. My eyes burned as sweat drained from my bald head into my eyes, my lungs burned as they struggled for oxygen, my legs and hips cramped. This was only the beginning.

Professor Gilson had us split up into teams of three. He emphasized that, although jiu jitsu is a very personal sport, teamwork is imperative to success. In fact, it’s so imperative that, in one teammate fails, so does everyone else. One person was instructed to lay on their back with their knees up. Another teammate was told to stand in front of the person on the ground. The person standing was told to remove their belt and give it to the third person. The third person then wrapped the belt around the standing teammate. The standing teammate was told to try and pass the guard of the person on their back, and the third team member was to pull on the belt to keep that from happening. The person on their back was to avoid having their guard passed using only hip movement, inversions, frames, etc., but NO grips. Essentially, one person was wrangling a bull, and the bull was trying to catch the rodeo clown. The catch? If the person on their back had their guard passed, not only would THEY have to do 20 push ups; the person holding the guard passer would as well. When one fails, so does everyone else. 

The rest of competition class consisted of these “partner-fails, everyone-fails” drills. Professor Gilson would joke, “Now I’m going to make you guys hate me just a little. But I promise! It’s the last one. I Promise.”

It was never the last one. 

We did an incredibly entertaining drill which Gilson said he would use at his academy in Brazil for upper belts who were competing in the near future. An upper belt would choose two lower belts; a brown belt would chose a blue belt and a white belt, for example. The brown belt was told that the two lower belt were going to attack them at the same time. Their goal? Submit the lower belts. The goal for the lower belts? Kill the brown belt. This drill was incredible, and something I hope to bring back to my home gym one day.

 

 

Finally, after almost an hour and fifteen minutes of torturous drilling, it was time to roll. The room was tense. People were struggling to breathe; grown men and women pushed to their limits, trying to hold themselves up. Gasping for water. What was most incredible, however, was the teamwork. If you tried sitting down? Someone would come pick you up. If you stopped walking? Someone would grab your Gi and get you moving again. It was pure, and it was what jiu jitsu was about. 

Professor Gilson stood in the middle of the circle and said through his thick, Brazilian accent, “You’re all tired. You can no use strength. Now is when jiu jitsu happens.” We were about to roll, yes. But, more importantly, we were about to do jiu jitsu. We partnered up and started rolling. I was struck again by how technical these students were. I was inspired, and really felt welcome. I rolled with a brown belt, three purple belts, a blue belt, and two white belts. When rolls ended, I assumed class was over. Wrong again.

“Time for cooldowns. Circle up!” boomed Levi’s voice.

Uh Oh. Cooldowns consisted of a pyramid set of calisthenic drills/exercises; sprawls, sit ups, push ups, and mountain climbers. It was simple, but deadly. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, next exercise. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9, next exercise. All the way down to 1-1-1-1. It seems that every competition class has some type of extra bit thrown in at the end of it. I’m starting to realize that this is the “Mental Toughness” part of jiu jitsu. You push yourself to the absolute limit, then push yourself more. You don’t give up until you need to be dragged from where you collapse. 

After cooling down, everyone in class circled up and put their hands in. The feeling of camaraderie was overwhelming. I was pulled into the circle as if I was a regular part of the family. I’ve always known that jiu jitsu was a universal language, but this was something more. Jiu Jitsu builds families. In that moment, I wasn’t a stranger; I wasn’t just some blue belt coming in to train; I was family. 

 

 

Here’s a HUGE thanks to everyone at Roots Athletics for letting my come train. Thank you for pushing me and thank you for training! The crew at Roots is already making huge strides on the competition scene; Morgan and Kyle are heading off to Worlds in a few days, already reeling from wins at the New York and Boston Open, as well as F2W Pro fights. I asked Levi in the locker room after class regarding what makes his gym so different from others in Philly. Simply put, he said:

“We offer and experience no one else does. We’re trying to bring Jiu Jitsu into 2017.”

I’d say they’ve already succeeded. Thanks again fellas!

 

Photo Credits: There were a ton of photos I didn’t find a place for in this post, but for most of the good pictures in this post were done by Kyle Huang. Follow him on Instagram @kylehuangphotography_ for some awesome material!

You don’t always get what you want. Sometimes that means good wifi connectivity. Lately, that’s what it’s meant.

Jen jumped on the trail, new boots, rested feet, sad over her breakup with the boots. I dropped her off, she hiked above Big Bear. Forgot her charging cord, so pictures were scarce, as were details. She DID have Chinese food in Big Bear, and kept on going. I don’t know if she walked in wearing this hat, but I hope so.

I left the lonely campground above the lake at Barton Flats, and headed back down the hill, looking for Poke, conversations with people not named Marley and Bernardo, and some Jiu Jitsu.

Since we’d been canoodling in Dana Point, Jen was out of Beach Time and needed to put some miles in on the new boots, so I slowed down to 5 mph, and rolled her out the door at mile 250. I was way too close to the Inland Empire for my taste. Frankly, it’s more the way the Inland Empire tastes, like burning tires, ozone, and heat. Smog. Heat. Tapout shirts. Back to the coast! At least there the people act like they’re better than me

Since I’m kind of trailer park deep in my soul, I stayed at the Crystal Cove campground, which used to be a trailer park perched above some of Southern California’s most desirable views. In true California fashion, well, Southern California, because in Northern California, they’d still be having sit ins and by now all the trailer park people would be subletting their double wides to tech millionaires, the city and county decided to kick the trailers and residents out, and voila! Two decades and multiple lawsuits later, it’s a different kind of trailer park.

Sometimes you find these little gems in unexpected places. I met my friend Michelle at this little bar on the beach IN the state park, next to a bunch of old bungalows. You’re on the sand, drinking, catching up, and thinking that there’s no way this place could be opened now. Kind of a dump, casual, in a world beating location. California has all kinds of little wonders in spite of itself, and it’s always fun to find reminders that this was once a pretty awesome state.

Of course, I had to earn the drinks, so I found some training. Laguna ain’t San Diego or L.A. when it comes to training. I had to drive to find world class instructors. Boo-hoo. So I found a gym that is run by one of the dirty dozen.  These are the first twelve non-Brazilians to become Black Belts. I sometimes train with Chris Hauterer when I’m in Torrance, in his garage (literally, that’s where his gym is. Not sure if it’s even a two-car, but the training is better than most dojo-palaces) so I figured a contemporary would be good. So off I went to James Boran BJJ http://www.boranjj.com/

The man himself wasn’t there, and really, neither was anybody else. Brazilian time. An older guy showed up, opened the place, and introduced himself. He was about my age, a brown belt, and there was a new, young white belt girl as well. We treated it kind of like an open mat drill session, very informal. Good rolls, very chill. Of course, the white belt was completely stoned, so that kept the energy on the playful side. Some places are homey, and very chill, and this was one. Of course, I’ve had my ass handed to me in the Garage too, and even my home gym, but in a more down home way.

Meanwhile, back on the trail, Jen was working her way east to west above San Bernardino. The landscape here is kind of crazy. From the smoggy, crowded valley floor, very steep mountains jut up four thousand feet or more. And she gets to walk up them. Then down them, then up some more. The hills here are steep, mostly granite, with some sandstone that used to be ocean floor.

She walks through pine trees, and then down into cactus and scrub oak. Sandy washes and little creeks. There is evidence of huge water, wide washes with trees and brush and trash pushed up against rocks and trees. It might have even been this spring, a little earlier. Almost all of the snow is gone, although she’s walked through patches here and there, nestled in the north facing drainages. There’s even some very nice bridges, over what we’re not sure. 

There are also little treats hidden among the hills. Our Friend Joe, OFJ, also known by his trail name, OZ, suggested this little hot springs. 

Jen says No to Joe! She’s intending to walk every mile of the PCT, that isn’t closed due to fire, or flooding, or frogs (yes, frogs). She also does not intend to walk any miles that aren’t PCT, and that includes peaks, and overlooks, and hotsprings. 

She also found this little mystery. A fully enclosed toilet, with solar power, in the middle of nowhere. 

This is also one of those parts of the trail that must be a little frustrating. The mantra is walking from Mexico to Canada, and the people, like Jen and most PCT hikers, are called NOBOs. North Bound. There are SOBOs, although the snow this year will make that an unlikely voyage. Too much snow in Oregon and Washington, so they’ll start very late, and likely run out of good weather.

Pretty much starting at Mile 270, near where I dropped her off, then across Big Bear, the San Berardino Wilderness, past Butler Peak and Lake Arrowhead, she’ll walk west, not North. She’ll walk west, through the Angeles Crest Highway, and won’t turn North again until Mile 436. By then, she’ll be north of Pasadena, standing above the Old School L.A. with its outdated and super sketchy freeway interchanges, above Burbank and Glendale and Studio City.

For now, she’s walking to mile 330, where nestled above the teeming metropolis that is Hesperia, is a lake and a campground and hopefully a trailer, some dogs, and a husband.

Next day I walked in to a Carlson Gracie Club gym, run by Allan Goes. Former MMA fighter, 6^th degree Black Belt, and the only Brazilian I’ve met who starts class on time. I was a little late, because I suck, and was figuring that somebody would be showing up shortly to unlock the doors. Nope, class is full, several Black Belts on the floor, doing a regimented warmup, with a very intimidating Professor Goes standing at the front.

Oops! I get dressed, he tells me that they go on American time, and jump in. Of course, I have no idea of what is going on, flail around in warmups, and then get paired with a big blue belt to work on some stuff.

They have cards. These guys have cards telling them what they should be working on. At first, it seemed a little McDojo, or at least Traditional Martial Arts, with the outlined curriculum, and then you get your promotion. NOT AT ALL. This gym is no joke. It’s not a full on blood bath MMA gym where a bunch of young guys try to kill you with an only the strong survive mentality.  It’s professional, not gladiatorial, and they take their learning seriously, and more formally than most BJJ gyms, and it shows. Professor Goes is both very competition focused and self-defense focused. I was told he train several pro-fighters, including Lyota Machida, and I’m not surprised. In the middle of this, my phone rings, and this guy who once fought Dan Henderson to a decision, gives me a slightly dirty, mostly disappointed look. Damn!

After that, we learn some good stuff, which hopefully I’ll remember soon, I think it had to do with an armbar set up. I woke up around 2 a.m. after writing this, and remembered that we were working arm drags to back, something that has eluded me from day one. Oh, btw, I’m writing down stuff that I learned, so I don’t forget it. You’ll have to suffer along.  Then we drill, with this big guy sitting on me, while I try to escape from bad positions. Totally made me realize that I need to work on that. I started to get okay at passing the guard about a year ago, and haven’t spent that much time getting smashed, and forget that it sucks. Back to the basics.  I went two days in a row, and felt like a wrung out towel both days. Some places feel like home, real comfortable. This place felt like I was being challenged and pushed, and that was awesome too. I can be real lazy with my training, very complacent, and you need a reminder that you have to think and work to get better. I liked how they really work to chart progress, give direction, start on time. Just wish I’d known so I didn’t look like a jerk.

If you were thinking it was time for more Jen, you’re right. She was ready for a break, and her shirt was filthy, and it was time for laundry and a shower. I’d found a camp site at Silverton Lake, up above Hesperia. If you don’t know where that is, your life hasn’t been wasted. Jen was making better time than she had in the past, her feet weren’t bugging her, and therefore I had to hurry up to meet her. She actually beat me to the camp, had already showered, pitched her tent and taken a nap. In my defense, she’d demanded that I find her donuts, so I was delayed.  

She’d ditched her ultra-light, not freestanding, super expensive tent at the last meet up, and I sold it to some guy on Facebook. Obviously, I didn’t ask enough for it, since he was willing to drive an hour up to meet me and get it. Still, $500 for a used tent seemed like a good deal to me. She’d taken my tent, all 5 pounds of solid, not going to fall down in the wind or snow tent, and loved it, except the 5 pound part. So, back to REI for a new tent. She got a freestanding, single person little thing that neither I nor the dogs will ever be allowed into. At this point I was trying to steer her to a bivy sack. Lighter, cheaper, not much smaller, but got nowhere.

After about five donuts, Jen started to regret that decision, and I took the remaining half dozen up the trail while she napped, before she could change her mind. I was looking for hikers so I could do a little trail angel action. About an hour in, I gave up. I’m not into this long distance hiking thing. I left the box, with PCT spelled out on top of it in sticks, and turned around. I wanted to make sure none of the fat little kids who had woken me up too early the day before got any donuts, so I marked them and put them up the hill where they’d be unlikely to find them. I hit the paved bike path, and of course there’s five hikers walking along. I told them there were donuts about a mile up the trail, and you could see them considering it.

Next morning, after a steak dinner, no more donuts and some time off, Jen was going to hit the trail again. I hiked up the trail again, planning on checking on my donuts, and sure enough some kid from Carolina is walking down the trail with the empty box. Success! I was pretty happy since this was the first trail magic I’d done that had worked out.

Jen was donut fueled and ready to hike, plus she’d heard that there was a McDonalds just off trail, and she knows how I feel about that, so she was ready to ditch me, get some McFood, and not have me looking at her all disappointed and sanctimonious about it.

If you’re keeping score, the campground was at mile 330, give or take, and Jen has been on the trail, mostly, since April 18, so a little over a month. She’s averaged about 11 miles per day, but that included a lot of rest days due to the blisters, and she’s regularly doing 20 mile days when she’s on the trail. At this pace, she’d be done in about 5 months, late September, which is hopefully early enough to avoid getting snowed on in Washington.

I turned back around, and headed back to the coast, this time just north of Malibu.

My trip to Barcelona was a whirlwind of awesomeness full of beautiful sites, amazing food, and great friends, both old and new.  I arrived with just one day to explore the city before competing in the IBJJF International Master – Europe.

I stayed in Verdum with a friend who also trains.  She is a black belt under Cyborg, and she is a plant-based athlete.  Barcelona has fruit and vegetable stands on almost every corner with a great selection of fresh options. 

I loved how easy it was to find quick, healthy snacks on the go, but I had no idea what was in store later that day.

We took the metro to Placa de Catalunya.  As soon as we stepped back outside I was blown away by the architecture.  The buildings are so beautiful.  There were so many people walking around on the streets that I kind of felt like I was in Manhattan, but much much prettier and with a much bigger sense of historic value.  The plaza itself has beautiful fountains, green space for lounging, and a hoard of pigeons you can feed if you want.  I wanted to walk around and take in all the beauty, so that’s what we did.

The gothic quarter is full of winding stone streets and narrow alleys that seem to hold their own secrets.  We wandered around taking random turns to see what we could find.  One courtyard we stumbled upon had a life-size chess board, and another had the most beautiful mosaic tile artwork.  By then we were starting to get hungry again, and we just happened to walk right by a vegan restaurant that had great menu options and fresh juices.

We wandered around a little more and hit the mother of all street market jackpots!  La Boqueria Mercat is a maze of never-ending booths selling all kinds of meats, cheeses, fruits, juices, desserts, and spices.  Every booth is different, but almost all of them had quick options for eating on the run.  It was amazing!  Since I was competing the next day, I couldn’t stuff my face with everything I wanted to, but I vowed to come back and do just that.

The next day was tournament day!  Several of my friends from home were also competing.  It was such a fun tournament!  I met some cool chicks from other countries, and everyone was in great spirits.  In my experience, the Masters tournaments have a different vibe.  Maybe because everyone is older, I’m not sure, but as a whole those events feel more relaxed, more fun, and the camaraderie among the athletes is always excellent.

 

I was fortunate enough to win my division by submission, but I opted to forgo the open class to see more of the city and eat.  After exercising some serious self-control the day before in the amazing street market, I wanted to go all out. 

We left the venue and headed to the coast.  But first, there was a peanut butter sandwich (okay two) with my name on it.

The tournament was in L’Hospitalet de Llobregat, which is close to the beach, but my friends took me for a drive through the mountains to Platja d’Aro in S’Agaro.  The drive itself was beautiful; there are castles everywhere in Barcelona! I was most excited to see the Mediterranean Sea for the first time.

The beach in S’Agaro is very small, but there is a long walkway with breathtakingly beautiful sights.  There are rock formations you can walk on and watch the waves crash into, little caves worn into the rocks by the sea, hidden stone steps to go down and explore, a series of tiny beaches that feel private, and the walkway ends at a much larger sand beach.  It was the most beautiful part of the entire trip.

At this point I was like ‘where are the carbs?’  There is a string of restaurants right along the beach, so we stopped in to La Clova for some pizza.  They have a fresh herb garden right in the entryway! My friends ordered their pizza without cheese, and I opted for the pear and gorgonzola.  Not only was it delicious, but I was able to eat the entire thing all by myself.  #winning

Even though my friend’s are vegans, they kept telling me that Spain is known for its cured hams, similar to prosciutto, but way better, or so they swear.  The obvious next step would be to try some. 

We ordered the ham based on the amount we wanted, but it came with all kinds of other things to nibble on.  We also ordered a cheese platter to try some different local cheeses.  The red one tasted like pizza.  The best part was the fruit paste that appeared to be guava but was a different fruit I couldn’t pronounce.  The sweet of the fruit mixed with the salt of the ham was on point.  By this time I had an impressively large food baby, so we headed back home for the night.

The next day I headed home, but not before a delicious breakfast of – you guessed it – more carbs!  Barcelona has its own version of mexican churros, which are a type of fried dough.  They leave out the cinnamon sugar coating in exchange for a cup of hot chocolate for dipping.  Not hot chocolate like warm milk with chocolate mixed in, oh no.  Hot chocolate as in a mug of melted chocolate.  It was heavenly.

Overall, the trip was so much fun.  Barcelona is beautiful, the people are so nice, the food is amazing, the city is easy to get around, and there are so many things to do and see.  There wasn’t enough time in the schedule (or room in my belly) to try the famous paella, but there is always next year. 

I was navigating some serious waves at the Caribbean Island Camp here in Saint Barth last week. To say it was an intense camp for me would be quite an understatement. It was my 24th BJJ Globetrotters camp and I probably don’t remember many others that’s been as hectic as this one. Ok, I almost had a heart attack at the Winter Camp in Austria once from partying, snowboarding and not sleeping three days in a row. But I was young and wild back then in 2015. Ok, also in 2016 at the Party Camp in Copenhagen. I almost died on the mats there, too. But this is 2017, let’s not hang on to the past.

As always, I put a lot (!) of time into preparing for every single little detail of a camp. My standard check list for planning and executing a camp has more than 300 check points. I evaluate all camps and add more things to the check list, but still, unforeseen things always happen and my primary task behind the scenes during the camp is to manage just this.

This camp last week felt a bit like a tsunami of unexpected things. It never rains here in May, but it did. Two days of straight up Jurassic Park opening day rain storm. It was so heavy that we couldn’t hear anything in the gym from the rain hitting the roof. One of our rental cars had a minor accident (that took a lot of time and energy for paperwork, insurance etc.). I had booked a different restaurant every night and they all screwed up the bookings. Boat trip looked like it would be cancelled because of the weather.  Two days without waves for the surf lessons and the list goes on.

In many ways, organizing a camp reminds me a lot about Jiu Jitsu. It is very much about staying calm and controlling a chaotic situation while under a lot of pressure. Maybe that’s why I enjoy torturing myself with hosting 1000s of people every year at camps around the world. In a strange way, it’s an enjoyable thing for me. Like the pain and nervousness of competing. Once you’re in it, you kind of just ride the storm. When it’s over, you’ve come out stronger on the other side.

I’ve recently come to realize that my primary job function with BJJ Globetrotters really is damage control. Yes, I teach classes, I research, plan and execute camps, I design the products, run the webshop and answer one million emails. But the vast majority of my work time, I spend on fixing things that didn’t go as planned. Outside of the camps, there is always something with the factories, warehouse or customers. Always something I couldn’t control. A while back, this annoyed me tremendously. I always wish I could just participate in the camps, join the classes and relax instead of running around and fixing things. But I’ve come to embrace it. Like Jiu Jitsu, surfing and Storm Chasers (fucking Storm Chasers, I wanna be them) it is really in the process of trying to stay calm in chaos that I enjoy. Especially because it always works out and the participants of the camp never really notice how stressed I’ve been behind the scenes :-)

The camp last week was a tremendous success and I enjoyed it so much. A lot of things has been added to the check list for next camp here in November. Now I’m taking a few days in the hammock to rest and then going all in on getting ready for the next one in Maine, USA in 12 days. Whatever that camp throws at me, I’m ready for it.

Hello again all! I hope everyone who attended the Caribbean Globetrotters Camp had a blast; I was incredibly jealous! I’m less than a week away from embarking on my USA Jiu Jitsu Journey, and I can’t imagine how I can get any more excited!

 

On a more somber note…

 

I graduated college this past Saturday with my Bachelors degree in Geology. Woo! Although this day brought feelings of joy and pride I’d not felt before, it also brought something incredibly sad. This past Friday, I had to say goodbye to my home away from home: Oneonta Jiu Jitsu Academy. This tiny, tucked away, “Never Back Down”-esque gym was the gym I began my jiu jitsu journey at, and I’ll forever be thankful for the guys and gals of OJJA for the past four years. I figured the best way to pay tribute to my crew of killers would be to share the story of myself and OJJA. So here goes…

 

I first walked into Oneonta Jiu Jitsu Academy when it wasn’t OJJA. Originally “Infinity Jiu Jitsu”, this gym arose from a small crew of killers out of a Tae Kwon Do studio in Oneonta, New York. This crew was led by Matt Martindale, who was a blue belt at the time. Martindale, along with his following of dedicated students (shout outs to Wyatt, Ryan, Anthony, Harley, Ben, Genista, Justin, and Callagy), eventually outgrew their shared TKD mat space, and decided to open up their own school. All it took was a dilapidated basement space under a real estate office, some elbow grease, and dedicated students to turn this…

 

Before

 

into THIS:

After. Future NoGi Pans Champ Ben Dixon pictured.

 

In late September of 2013, Infinity Jiu Jitsu opened its doors with a seminar/promotion by Tai Kai/Team Balance Black Belt, Dennis Sugrue. Matt Martindale received his purple belt, and the first crew of OJJA blue belts were christened! In the time I’d train at this school, I’d watch Matt get his brown belt, Wyatt get his purple, and these blues all get their purples as well.

 

As luck would have it, I’d step into the Infinity Jiu Jitsu doors roughly a week after their opening. I remember hiking a mile up the road to the gym, a walk I’d repeat dozens upon dozens of times for the next two semesters, only to find the door tucked away down a slightly sketchy driveway. I cautiously, but excitedly, walked in the door and was greeted by Matt, the instructor. We briefly talked about my experience with jiu jitsu, and I mentioned my older brothers. I but on my shorts and athletic shirt, and stepped onto the mats for the first time of many. Years later, Matt admitted his first thoughts of me:

 

“When Mike first started, I assumed he’d be this annoying college kid who’d be gone after a few weeks.”

–Matt Martindale

 

Little did he realized that I dove in, rather headfirst. My first class involved learning a basic butterfly guard pass… before I even knew what butterfly guard was. I felt so bad for my drilling partner. Justin, if you’re reading this, sorry for headbutting you when I dove for the underhook. 

 

And that was only the beginning. It became apparent to everyone in my life that jiu jitsu was taking over my life. I’d be in the gym four days a week, and when I wasn’t? I’d be looking at BJJ videos on YouTube. 

 

Favorite Memory

This is a tough one. I can think of so many unforgettable memories from OJJA: Popping my IBJJF cherry at NoGi Pans 2015 (I lost first match, but spent the whole day watching my teammates succeed), receiving my blue belt after an exceptionally hard belt testing along with some of my best friends, Saturday NoGi hour-long rolls, getting brutally hip tossed into the floor by white belt Tyrell, etc. But if I had to choose ONE moment… I’d go with one of the most recent: our first Purple Belt testing. On April 22nd, OJJA hosted a massive belt testing in which our first crop of blue belts got promoted to Purple Belt. The energy in the room as my brothers, the guys who’d been beating me up for months-years, struggled through the final phase of the test, was palpable. I’d just received my third stripe on my blue belt, but that didn’t matter. As the beat of our hands against the mat reverberated through the room, I felt proud. Proud to be part of my team. Proud to have trained with these men. Proud to have been able to sharpen my skills alongside this crop of eventual black belts. It was inspiring, and you bet I shed some man tears.

 

What I Learned About Myself

That’s a tough one. I really believe that I am a completely different person since I began training at OJJA (for the better, of course!) That said, when I think about what I learned most about myself is my love for teaching and coaching. I didn’t realize this until the start of my second to last semester of college; August 2016 or so. I returned from a summer of jiu jitsu and climbing, eager to rejoin the ranks and get back into the swing of training with my home gym. It’s important to mention that, while I was home from college for the summer and the winter, I continued training at a gym not too far from my house. In fact, I mentioned this gym in my first blog post as the gym my older brother, Dan, started training at. This school is now a Tony Passos affiliate, and anyone who has trained with Tony Passos knows that he’s very concept-heavy. Fewer moves, more concepts. This was invaluable to my growth in jiu jitsu, and I’ll talk more about this in a later post. For now, I’ll say that, upon returning to college last semester, my experience at both gyms, combined with my place as a higher ranking blue belt, led a few white belts seeking me out for tips and tricks. They’d ask about particular armbar setups I’d been using, open guard concepts, how to stay heavy on top/escape from bottom, etc. I didn’t hesitate. This “coaching” (a term I use loosely) status continued to grow throughout the semester, and I found myself coaching many of my teammates in tournaments over the last few months.

 

In February 2017, I had a superfight for Global Grappling League up in Ithaca, New York. The fight was at night, but during the day a tournament was held. Before the event, Matt asked me if I’d be willing to help coach the guys competing at the tourney. Again: didn’t even hesitate. To my surprise, I ended up coaching every competitor of ours that day, with all of them making the podium in one way or another. I’d never really felt that type of pride until then.

My crew of easily coachable teammates. Loved the feeling of having them listen to me, and respect me enough to take my advice to heart!

 

A few weeks later, one of the seasoned white belts, Jude, asked me to coach him at the upcoming NAGA Albany tournament. This was an honor. Jude and I have always had a strange relationship; him being a high school junior, he always has some form of sass to sling my way. He’s a 10th Planet Fanatic; he actually ran into Keenan Cornelius in the bathroom after his loss to Gordon Ryan at Grappling Industries, and ACTUALLY ASKED HIM, “Hey, that was a really great match. Why didn’t you use more rubber guard?” Need I say more about his 17 year-old sassiness? I, on the other hand, am an open guard, gi-oriented jiu jitsu aficionado. So, to have my sassy teammate request me to coach him was a big deal. I spent the whole day coaching him: warming him up, coaching from the sidelines, drilling beforehand, etc. He took Gold in the Gi and Silver in NoGi. 

@JudeJitsu rocking his gold medal and 10th Planet sign. We had some choice words about that sign, and we sure made him pay the following Monday during rounds.

 

Competing

On the subject of coaching, I need to briefly say how training at OJJA really changed my outlook on competition. I was never the most athletic kid in high school; I powerlifted, but hated organized sports. I never would’ve imagined that at 21 years-old I’d been winning blue belt superfights, competing on an international scale, coaching teammates, etc. I came to love competition at Oneonta Jiu Jitsu. I truly believe that competing in jiu jitsu, while not for everyone, is an invaluable part to growing in not just jiu jitsu, but in life. 

 

Dedication

Training at OJJA taught me the invaluable skill of dedicating myself to something fully. I was lucky enough to have training partners who called me out when I missed a day of training. I hope to find a gym someday that creates this type of atmosphere where everyone holds each other accountable for their goals!

 

What Did I Love Most?

Honestly? I loved how unassuming our gym was. To anyone on the outside, it’s a nitty and gritty. But to us? It’s home. Not only is it home, but we tear it up on the competition scene from this home. Ben Dixon, a new purple belt, took Gold at NoGi Pan Ams in 2015. Chris Callagy competes in more or less every tournament he finds. Harley Davis, through his connections with Grappling Industries, has paved the way for OJJA and their relationship with the budding organization. Jude tears up grown men in the adult division as a teenager. We’ve got medals from more or less every tournament scene in the Northeast hanging from our rafters, and belts hanging everywhere (NAGA, IBJJF, GGL, Newbreed, Grappling Industries, etc.)

 

Just a small part of our “Wall of Experience”

 

Special Thanks and Shoutouts

I’m not sure if they’ll read this, but there’s a ton of people I could thanks for getting me to this point. Without OJJA, I wouldn’t be writing this post for BJJGlobetrotters. I’d never have gotten sponsorships, superfights, medals, and, most of all, the confidence to be comfortable with discomfort. Rolling and training and drilling with everyone at OJJA has made me the man I am today, and I can’t imagine my life without it. 

 

Matt: Thank you for coaching me and teaching me for these past four years. You’ve built an amazing community at the gym, and we wouldn’t be anywhere near what we are without you. 

Wyatt: Thank you for exposing me to, and challenging me with, the NoGi side of jiu jitsu. I’ll take your wresting wisdom on my further endeavors. Sorry I never got to do that magic show!

Harley and John: Thank you for taking me under your wings during my first few months at the gym. Having training partners like you is why people stick around. 

Ben and Tank: Thank you for challenging me. Plain and simple. I had my hardest rolls with you two. 

Croteau and Yuri: My blue belt brothers. Croteau, I’ll miss your bald-man commentary and our backhanded compliments. Yuri, I’ll never, EVER miss your leg locks. 

Jude: Keep training, fill my shoes.

Leonardo: You’re gonna go far, my friend. Keep training and get those blues!

Heather, Felicia, Christine: Thank you for always rolling with me, even though I’m like a puppy who doesn’t know his own strength. You guys are the core of our female presence at the gym. 

To Oneonta Jiu Jitsu Academy: Thank you for the laughs, the frustration, the pain, the injuries, the bumps and bruises, the memories, and the like. Thank you for being there when I was having panic attacks at midnight and needed somewhere to go relieve the stress. Thank you for being my family. I love you all!

 

 

My crew; spy my bald head! This was taken after the Purple Belt Test last month. This was the last time I would ever receive a promotion from OJJA. Love these people!

 

The last class crew. Definitely a bunch of people missing, but doesn’t change a thing. Love these guys. Thanks for the memories, fellas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wasn’t going for a cliff-hanger, I was having technical problems with the blog. The guys at BJJ Globetrotter who generously host the blog were off doing Jiu Jitsu, surfing, and running a week long BJJ and surf camp. I’d love to go and do one of those one of these days. Maybe, after all of this hiking and watching Jen hike is done, she’ll feel obligated and let me go. Or, as usual, I’ll just go, and she’ll gladly have some time off to watch trashy T.V. and have popcorn or pie for dinner. 

But it did snow, for a couple of days. It snowed on me, in my trailer, which was fine, and actually quite beautiful. It snowed on Jen, in her tent, which was expected, but not awesome. Especially the part where she’d forgotten to bring her tent poles. 

Jen and I have had this ongoing debate about ultra-light vs. not-so-light backpacking. She wants everything as light as possible, of course, since she has to carry it. I want things to work and not be a hassle and not break, and since I’m heavier myself, I worry less about the ounces. Her backpack and her sleeping bag are ridiculously light, made from some kind of spider silk or titanium fabric. They’re made by http://www.zpacks.com/ and it’s good stuff. It works, the company has good customer service, etc. Her tent, however, is a point of contention. 

It is also made by z-packs, this is one of those items where I think light has sacrificed too much. You use your walking poles to set the thing up, and there’s a fair bit of driving in stakes and adjusting lines and the whole thing is complicated, and well, I don’t like it. I would prefer Jen lug around a heavier tent which has its’ own poles and will stand on its’ own without all the mucking about with engineering. Since I’m her husband I worry about her, and since I’m a man, I like to be right about things, especially about manly things like traipsing about in the wilderness. Even though I do much less of it than Jen, being a man and growing a beard makes my opinion on these things carry more weight, much like  I do. You know, some things make less sense when you say them out loud, or write them in a blog. 

Irregardless (which is not a word, I know, but I like it), Jen has this ultralight tent, but she got one that is a little more sturdy since there are some poles in addition to the trekking poles and all that string, but she forgot them in the trailer. If the weather is nice, it’s not a problem. If the weather decides to put a bunch of heavy snow on your tent, it causes problems. And makes everything you own, and need to wear, or sleep in, wet. 

After taking a few days off, hiking across the ugly dessert corridor, seeing some beautiful sights, Jen decided that between being all wet, and her feet not having healed up, maybe it was time to reset and dry off, so I picked her up, and she spent the night with me and the boys, and babied Marley, who is recovering nicely. 

First, she had some milestones to accomplish, so as soon as the weather cleared, and her gear had dried, she was back at it for a few more. She hiked back up into the hills, this time on the other side of the Coachella valley. She hiked up out of the valley, past a huge windmill farm, where she shared the sunset with the moon, and a lot of bats. Bats are cool.

She hiked above the clouds that were threatening to come back in and rain and snow some more. 

She hiked towards the next big climb, after having dropped thousands of feet of gain.

She hiked past these beautiful flowers, which she is convinced is the notorious poodle dog bush. 

which looks more like this

but she doesn’t care and is avoiding all purple flowers for now. 

She hiked past a rock that looks either like a frog or a brain, or maybe a giant frog brain, not really sure.

and she hiked all the way to mile 250. Yep, 250!

And what was I doing all this time? Well, being awesome and supportive and opinionated, and doing some Jiu Jitsu of course. 

I had to head down the hill for a vet appointment, where Marley got his drain tube taken out. He’s doing great, no sign of infection, and he looks and feels like nothing happened. Except where they had to do a little hair cutting to get at his stitches. He feels great, but he looks a little off I think. 

I also had a chance to roll in Yucaipa. Yep, that’s what I said. Not only that, but I had options. There were three gyms in this little town at the base of the mountains. I chose the very nice but unfortunately named BloodSpiller BJJ. http://www.cjjfsocal.com/index.html

The class was being taught by a purple belt, who did a good job on a half-guard escape. Mostly white and a couple of blue belts in the small, clean gym. Very welcoming of course. After class the instructor asked me to roll, suggesting that we keep it playful. That means a lot of things to a lot of people, of course, and this was a prime example. We slap hands, fist bump, and I kind of casually slide into a buzz saw. Now, this guy was young, smaller than I by about ten or twenty pounds, but damn he was strong and quick. He also, let us be clear, was NOT being a dick, or going all world championship match on me, but his “playful” involved a lot more pretty hard choking than my “playful.” He got on top, and I tried to survive and escape, and keep his damn hands out of my collars and off my throat. I would like to say that after about ten minutes of this, he gave up on choking me. Which is true, but only because my choke defense eventually gave him a Kimura, which I tapped to. 

It was a really good roll, and I think he wanted to test his Purple level against mine, since he probably rolls only with the newer students, and his black belt, Aaron “BloodSpiller” Miller, whom I didn’t meet. Funny, of course, because I did talk to him on the phone, and he sounded about as nice a guy as you could want. However, I’m not sure I’d want to roll against a guy like that as my primary opponent. It’ll make you better, if you don’t quit, which you’ll want to. 

I headed back up the hill, and picked Jen up at mile 250, and we had a little celebration. 

As I’d mentioned, I was being my usual awesome supportive self. That’s a giant red velvet cupcake, with the “250” in icing on it, which I picked up special for Jen. 

I also had a bunch of cookies to share with other hikers to help them celebrate, but only one guys showed up. I could neither remember or pronounce his name, since he was Hungarian, but it was the Hungarian equivalent of Paul, or so I told myself. He had a cookie, hung around politely for a while, and hiked on. 

Jen came back to the trailer with me, now parked at Barton Flats on the Angeles Crest highway near Big Bear, and rested up. Her blisters were still killing her, not really healing, and it was time. We had an intervention, and she broke up with her bad boyfriend boots, for now. We drove into the smog, found an REI, and got her some new boots, some Chinese food, and a diet Pepsi. 

For now, Jen is going to let her feet heal. We’re taking a few days off, heading to the beach, and holing up in a VRBO in Dana Point.