Learning by losing

My whole body is sore. I feel every part of it. Even my fingers hurt.

Last Friday, we trained together with the advanced class. There was one black belt, a couple of purple belts, and the rest were blue and white belts. We started with an extensive warm-up: lots of running, different kinds of jumps, and forward and backward rolls.

And then the real training began.

We did about 15 rounds in a rotating format. Five people stayed in the middle of the dojo, and the rest had to approach one of them, right after he finished with the previous partner, and try to score a takedown. We had a maximum of 40 seconds. After several rounds like that, we repeated the same setup, starting from open guard and later from back control, and tried to escape.

In some rounds, the same people always stayed in the middle, no matter who won. In others, the winner stayed in. And sometimes, the loser. Needless to say, I was almost always the one rotating out — though with varying degrees of resistance.

At the end, I had two regular rolling rounds of six minutes each, switching partners afterward. My first round was with a purple belt, about 10 years younger than me, the oldest person there after me. We started in guard, with him playing guard. I couldn’t pass, but he couldn’t sweep or submit me either. We spent six minutes in a tight, static battle.

For me, that felt like a victory.

All in all, it was an exhausting training. I was completely tired, but more or less satisfied.

I often hear experienced Jiu-Jitsu instructors say that every time you tap, you should be thankful because you learn something, or that you only really learn when you’re losing, not when you’re winning. If that’s true, I’ll be a world champion in ten years… if I’m still alive.