Chapter One.

Hello, I’m Barry. And this is where I’m going to let my mind spill. Hopefully with a bit of time, you’ll learn to tolerate me. I am the lazy grappler.

Currently I train BJJ two times a week, with the intent to train submission wrestling once a week. I never make the submission classes, because I generally find something else to do. Whether it be listening to music, watching a film, or screaming bloody murder on the 360.

I’m a blue belt in BJJ. I’ve been training BJJ for a couple of years, and it’ll be three years this November since my first class. I think it was November, I remember it being cold as fuck, doing a load of leglocks, and then getting snapped in half by a tiny brown belt and getting manhandled by a child that had just gotten his blue belt.

Before that I dabbled with submission wrestling, wrestling for MMA, and other little bits and bobs. I started all this stuff near four years ago now at a local kickboxing gym after getting hooked on MMA. My aim was never to be a fighter, but to be fit and to understand what the hell was going on when the fight hit the deck.

Fast forward back to today, I’m no longer at the kickboxing gym, and my current club offers a variety of classes, with a wealth of talent teaching them. I’ve attended seminars of David ‘Speedy’ Elliot, Robert Drysdale, Marc Walder & Jeremy Horn. So where’s my motivation?

I don’t do cardio, I don’t lift, I just turn up to BJJ, drill, roll & then go home. I’m putting on weight, without any visible difference in my body, which is pretty remarkable. I broke my collarbone last year doing this stuff (my fault), and I guess I’ve stifled my own progress by being lazy since then. I had a lot of time off waiting for the all clear to train. And upon coming back, I was very tentative until I got slammed into my shoulder one day. Sure it’s sore, but it’s not going to snap again with a big fucking metal plate across it.

I’m happy to plod on, stuck in this rut that I am currently. My mentality is jarred. I’m doing BJJ because I love it. But often, I’m very aware of how dangerous it is, and how quickly it is effecting my body. I ache on a daily basis, hands/feet/shoulder/knees/hips/neck/back just seem to take turns in pissing me off. Can’t remember the last day I didn’t suffer some sort of pain, which is nice. But I’ll keep pushing forward, at my own pace. Lazily, as if travelling through mud.

I may not look the most enthused, and I also may look like I can’t be arsed at all but there are brief moments of clarity in this sport for me. All my problems disipate. I focus, and I’m having the time of my life. Whether it’s a fancy new move, an old favourite or just rolling.

Today, I practised some basic spider guard stuff. A sweep, an omoplatta and a triangle. Drill. Drill. Drill. I’m still rolling over the shoulder that’s sore, and still making a cunt of a move when I do so. After that, we rolled. I made my goal three things, for three different opponents. First opponent, try a top heavy game and look for chokes. Second opponent, try and stifle their offense and stop them from using their strength. Third opponent, defend, move, defend.

Today was positive, I’d like more of that soon please. This concludes today’s mind spill of thick yellow pus. Enjoy.

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