Flowing with the Go Read Online Free PDF

he really does want to see you again, so I went to watch.
    â€œYou must do the thing you think you cannot do.”
    â€” Eleanor Roosevelt
    This was a gi class, so everyone was wearing their martial arts uniform that resembles a judo uniform. A gi is built for functionality. It is made of sturdy cotton in a weave that can take plenty of abuse. The jacket folds over in the front like a kimono and has a sturdy lapel. The lapel is a favorite place on the gi to “get your grips,” and it is thicker than the rest of the jacket. The pants have a drawstring and gusseted crotch so that you have plenty of freedom to move—and probably so that you don’t split your pants when you are in compromising positions that put a strain on the seams. The third piece is the belt. There is a special way to tie your belt, and it is very important that you tie it correctly. I looked it up on YouTube to make sure I had it right. To not tie your belt correctly or to drag it on the ground is dishonorable.
    Brick noticed I was wearing sweats, so he invited me to join the warmup. Okay, I can run in a circle, no big deal. But then they started getting down on the mat and doing line drills and contorting their bodies in ways unfamiliar to me. Sensing the questioning look on my face, I was taken aside and taught some basic moves and vocabulary.
    That day, I learned how to “shrimp” and hold someone in “side control.” ( “Mount” was seriously suspect.) I still wasn’t sold. I certainly was not going to wear one of those uniforms. It looked very cumbersome and hot. But I was nagged by the voice that anyone who has competed knows; the one that says, “You can do that. If you don’t even try it, then you have failed.” I bought a pair of fight shorts (which I thought were pretty cool) and started going to the no-gi class that was scheduled before the striking class.
    It turned out that submission grappling was as slimy as it looked. And there was touching for pretty much the entire one and a half hours. And there were no other girls usually. Being the only woman most of the time didn’t bother me. I grew up in the middle between two brothers. I was also the only girl on the block growing up, so I played with the boys. I grew fast and was taller than most of the boys as well. I remember always being in the middle of the back row for pictures in elementary school. I went on to play three varsity sports all four years of high school and played year-round club volleyball. Needless to say, I was no stranger to a gym or to being challenged by boys to athletic competitions. I could trash-talk and “good old boy” with the best of them. In graduate school, I was the only woman to join the faculty and other graduate students for “a run” —gym-speak for playing lunchtime basketball. This continued throughout my adult life. I played on two three-on-three teams (one was coed) at Hoopfest in Spokane two months after giving birth to Carly. And yes, I breast-fed between games. (Ah, but I digress to my younger days.)
    Eventually I bought a gi. A blue one because most of the people wore white and that seemed rather bland. In my mind, this uniform meant commitment. I told myself that I would give Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ) a year. A year would be enough time to gauge my aptitude and feel like I gave it an honest try. And so my journey began.

7
It Really is a Journey
    L et me stop for a minute and talk about “the journey.” We all know the saying, “it’s about the journey, not the destination.” In the gym during promotions, Coach would often remind everyone that we each had a personal Jiu-Jitsu journey, and it was not about rank or promotions. Some people advance quickly; some people take awhile. We all have differing backgrounds in martial arts, athleticism, and fitness, and we all have varying learning curves. People also have different schedules. Some people can