Recovery is a bitch. We’ve all been there, whether it’s injury or sickness. You have that burning desire to get back to what you love most, but the sensible part of you says no. That part is your brain, your big stupid fucking brain.
I work in an office, one that happens to be fucking huge, has several floors, doors, etc the usual. With that comes DISEASE. The common cold spreads like wildfire in my workplace, and it fair kicked me in the balls for the past week or so.
Today was my first BJJ class in FIVE YEARS. No wait, two weeks or so. It felt like five years, because the common cold has been wrecking my body with each painful symptom. Naturally I was apprehensive going back, so I loaded up on painkillers (paracetamol and ibuprofen), had a big swig of sugar (Coke), and threw myself merrily onto the mats. Fuck anxiety, I’m doing this.
The warmup was painful, and the drills weren’t much better. My movement was pretty damn awful throughout, because my hips just haven’t had to move beyond walking recently. I really should stretch more at home, but I was ill, so fuck that.
We then set up nine minute rounds to roll. There were four of us there, so we were to roll three times with a minute rest in between. I kept myself chilled throughout the rolls, and did everything I could not to get flustered. I wasn’t anywhere close to being tapped, and I tapped each of the people I rolled with. This is where a fresh false sense of security comes in.
A long time ago, I would have left the mats beaming, impressed with my performance, but today I came away with one thing in mind. I can do better. I will do better. I’m going to beat the person that I was yesterday, and that will always be my goal going forward. Whether I tap a thousand people, or get tapped by a thousand people, nothing changes if I don’t progress past where I am currently. I have Marc Walder and Speedy Elliot to thank for this mentality, and it’s one I believe everyone in combat sports should adopt, if you haven’t already.
STOP! Bacon sandwich time.