It’s no secret that my knees are deteriorated far beyond what is deemed acceptable for day to day life, let alone for competition purposes. You can hear the clickety-clacking and gravel crunching from clear across the room, you can feel the bones grinding and overlapping with every movement, and you can see the grimace on my face as my knee buckles beneath my weight. Yet here I am, unable to give up on the joys and challenges that competition gives me, despite being unable to walk without a limp or sleep soundly through the night without waking up in debilitating pain. If that wasn’t stupid enough, how about always competing in the absolute, open weight divisions whenever given the chance and even registering in younger age divisions or higher weight divisions in order to get matches? Sometimes I wonder what the hell is wrong with me, but I am certain of one thing, and that is that as hard-headed as I am, I am also one tough son of a gun.
Take for example, the photo accompanying this article. This past weekend, I competed at the IBJJF Virginia Open. In the gi division I dropped down to the adult division, challenging myself against the possibility of younger and more able-bodied opponents and for a longer duration match (10 minutes). It was my only option for competition and I would rather do that than pull out altogether. Then, of course, I also registered for the absolute. Needless to say, things did not go all that great for me. Feeling pretty defeated, I was trying to muster up the enthusiasm for competing the next day, where I was going to compete up at the heavyweight division for no gi. When it was time to step on the scales, I weighed a whopping 119.8 lbs, competing at the division which has a 169 lb allowance. The table checker audibly said “holy shit” when I weighed in, but I knew it was my only option. My first match I gave everything I had, even getting out of a tight arm bar attempt (the aforementioned photo), and I came up short on points. I was bummed but determined. I ended up winning my second match on points, before going back against the first opponent again where she beat me with a sub. Still though, silver at heavyweight meant so much to me.
My opponents were wonderful women and great athletes I never would have met had I not taken the plunge and dove in headfirst to such intimidating divisions. I also learned how much resiliency and a strong willpower can get you. I was so hard on myself, and only later did I learn that my first no gi opponent had been a black belt longer than I had trained Jiu Jitsu and was a champion many times over in much larger weight classes. Still, I will always hate losing, but at least I gave it my all and put up the best fight I could with my smaller and somewhat decrepit body. I’d like to think I earned a little bit of respect by going into those divisions, but perhaps everyone just thinks I am incredibly stupid. Like I said in the title, it is probably a good thing I am at least very tough, or at least, tough enough to not cry too easily from physical pain (leave my emotions out of this).
Of course today, I am backing the gym, back to lifting, and back to training. After all, I have a whole IBJJF Master’s Worlds to prepare for. This time, at my weight and age level, but at black belt, experience level can vastly differ. Still, it is what I sign up for and I am more than willing to put in the work. I do have lofty aspirations of winning gold alongside my husband, who also has to fight through incredibly difficult divisions and has suffered competition-ending injuries and surgeries as well. I guess we are just a couple of dumb-dumbs in a pod like some stupid peas. We do things such as injections and stem cells and physical therapy, but I can almost guarantee that most people with an L5S1 spinal fusion like him or zero cartilage requiring a knee replacement like me would have hung up the gi quite some time ago. But Mr. and Mrs. Dumb-Dumb are always out there competing, and always doing the Open Weight divisions as well.
Honestly, I don’t think I would be in a relationship with someone who easily gave into their bodies grievances. I need someone like me, pushing themselves beyond their capabilities and facing adversity head on, never relenting no matter how things play out. Whether it’s a bad competition season, or a rough injury, we will always keep signing up. I am also glad to be with someone who, just like me, has no fear competing in absolute divisions and always signs up for them too. Fortune favors the bold. You must take risks and keep challenging yourself to achieve greatness. And whether or not I ever do reach that far-fetched dream of world championship at black belt, perhaps my tough mentality and ‘never-quit’ attitude inspires at least one person out there. Just remember that if you throw caution to the wind, you better have the mental fortitude to pick yourself up should your physical self end up a wee bit smushed. Forever, Big Sam.
