After I was promoted to blue belt, my husband (who has a year of training on me) told me he could finally tell me the truth about my first year of training: I was awful. I was really, really bad. He was really proud of me for not quitting.
I've thought a lot about why I didn't quit, even when I was the shortest and slowest in class and when I seemed to get hurt every time someone put a little pressure on me and I went almost a year before getting my first submission or pass. True, I just loved my academy. I love the smell of the mats in the morning and the guys I train with, our stupid inside jokes, and my ability to let everything go once I got on the mat.
But I also had upper belts and more experienced white belts encourage me. Upper belts noticed when I started moving better, and offered suggestions on how to get even better. People asked where I was if I missed a few classes and asked me to roll. When I got a good pass or position, my training partners told me so. Just a few words of encouragement from a training partner meant the world to me.
I remember that every time there is a new white belt on the mat. I remember how hard it was to put myself outside my comfort zone and try something so new. I find something about each white belt I roll with that they have done right. Maybe they won't remember it, maybe it doesn't mean anything to them, or maybe it will be the thing that helps them show up to the next class and keep training.
No comments:
Post a Comment