This one goes out to the beginner-iest beginners out there...
Jiu Jitsu is hard. You're getting your ass kicked all the time and when you aren't getting your ass kicked, you're struggling to remember what happens in BJJ when you aren't getting your ass kicked. It's confusing, techniques go by too fast, and, possibly, you hurt all over. This is what the first year-ish of your training will look like. Some days are better than others, but this is pretty much how it's going to be for a while. But there are a few things you need to know.
1) You are not slowing the rest of us down.
If you feel like you aren't getting something and the rest of the class has moved on, make a note of the technique and pull someone aside in the future to drill it. If they're doing a different technique, ask if you can just repeat the first technique again during your turn. Either way, don't panic. Most techniques aren't learnable on the first try and any training partner worth his/her salt knows that even the simplest technique demands a great many repetitions to perfect.
2) It won't always be this way.
I can't tell you when it will happen, possibly you won't even notice it when it does, but one day you'll wake up, put your gi on, step on the mat and everything won't seem so hard. You may not be kicking the asses that once kicked yours, but you'll start to hold your own. You'll make them work a little harder. Even more importantly, you won't always feel lost all the time. Techniques and instruction you struggled with WILL become easy to follow. You'll "get" things on the first try sometimes. You'll still be confused some of the time, but it will gradually happen less and less.
3) This is kind of why you love Jiu Jitsu anyway, right?
On some level, we all do this because we love getting better. The only way to get better is to work with people who can teach and challenge you. When you work with those people, they're going to beat the crap out of you for a while. Enjoy those little victories. Enjoy knowing that last week you fell for an armbar setup that didn't even phase you this time around. Enjoy getting through a tough warm up only feeling like you're going to vomit when a month ago, you did vomit. It's your progress, so don't deny yourself.
And for those of us coming up through the ranks, here are a few thoughts, peer to peer:
1) Don't act like your partner is slowing you down. Ever.
Unless they are actually not trying, give your newbie friend the benefit of the doubt. Just because sweeps feel like second nature now, remember they didn't always. Don't be afraid to ask your partner if they'd like you to walk them through the more complicated movements. They are trying. Just like you were when you first hopped on the tatami with your belt tied wrong and your pants on backwards. Don't treat them like they're holding you up or ruining your training. Seriously, where do you have to be?
2) Cherish the times you can kick some ass.
As we all know, you weren't always able to collect arms or necks or ankles the way you do now. More than likely, depending on who you roll with, you still can't reliably submit everyone in your class at will. So use those rolls where you can to work on things that are hard for you. Set up the armbar, don't finish it, then sweep or create a technique chain instead. Work for surgical precision and minimal effort on every transition, pass and escape. This is your lab, test those hypotheses that occur to you in the middle of the night.
3) Enjoy other people's progress
It's easy to say and hard to do. Nobody likes feeling like others are passing them by, but enjoy being tested by someone who couldn't step to you six months ago. Don't be irritated by their progress or feel like you're losing your touch if they make you work. If you're putting in your time, you are where you're supposed to be. Besides, to get the best training, you want the best partners, right?
24 December 2012
30 November 2012
Clearly, We're Going to Die Here, Part Dos
It's hard to sleep when you're terrified, but it's a little less hard when you've also been traveling for nearly 24 hours, so after finding non-translated into funny-voiced Spanish reruns of Friends on El WB, we managed to fall asleep.
I guess exhaustion only beat back terror for a couple hours, because we woke up at 6-ish the next morning. The funny thing about Costa Rica, is that while it's culturally very, very different from the US, it's not a backwards country in the least. The majority of cars are low emission Toyotas and Hondas, and while the houses in the countryside were smaller than the majority of American homes, nearly all of them had satellites mounted to their roofs. As such, El Motel Seis had wifi.
After we grabbed codes from the front desk, we stationed ourselves at our laptops (bring a laptop if you can, don't be one of those people who thinks they're too cool for technology. No one is cool when they are stranded. Remember Tom Hanks in Castaway? Friends with a volleyball. Not cool.) and set to the task of how to get the hell out of there.
After some research, we settled on potential hotel in the nearest beach town to the airport (just in case that went to hell too, at least then we could probably just sprint back to catch our flight) and Rosie called them and set up our reservation, as well as a shuttle to drive us the two hours back through the jungle.
We arrived at our new hotel, settled in and, aside from an inconvenient baconing incident at lunch, things calmed down for a bit. There were a few other suggestions that cosmically, CR still didn't want us there: our rainforest tour was cancelled and I was prompted to develop a new term called "terror farts" which I can explain at a later date, but on the whole it was a nice couple of days.
Then we had to come home. Customs at the CR airport was easy, then we boarded one of the new Boeing 737s that those stupid ads they make you watch before the safety videos on planes keep talking about. We landed in Miami, grabbed our checked bag and made it through the second part of customs. When I got to my agent, I couldn't understand what he was saying and accidentally gave conflicting answers, leading to a mildly embarrassing scene in which he yelled across the customs line to Rosie to confirm my identity so he didn't have to throw me out into the Atlantic Ocean, or something.
The final frontier of re-entering the country turns out to be hand swabbing. They take a little test strip, run it across your palms and feed it into a machine. The machine makes happy beeps and they send you on your way. Or at least that's what happened for Rosie.
When I stepped up to the swabbing plate, they wiped my palms, fed the strip into the machine but in place of happy beeps, I got angry, vengeful beeps. Obviously I had wronged these beeps in some way, but since the security lady didn't say anything, just gestured at me with an open palm as if to say "keep it moving" I said to Rosie "I guess we can go?", turned to pick up my bags and was told in a very loud voice to "STOP RIGHT THERE" and put my bags on the table for inspection. They opened my bags, asked me about their contents then another woman led me to the corner of the room (not a separate room, nor a curtained area, just a corner of the room) and explained to me in great detail the style in which she was about to frisk me.
"I will use a gloved, flat, open palm against all of your general areas. When I approach your personal areas I will turn my hand over and use the back of my hand. Do you understand what I'm about to do?" I nod that I do, and she begins her frisking, narrating as she goes. "Open palm, open palm, open palm" she says as I wonder what happens next, is it a detention room? Do they throw out my only long pants and only jacket that I'd brought on the tropical vacation so that I return to Chicago in shorts and a dirty t shirt? Do they just throw me in the ocean? Is this another Tom Hanks situation (you know, that one where he lives in the airport because his home country stops existing for a while or something)? I'm working pretty hard at not freaking out as she continues "open palm, open palm, back of hand, back of hand, back of hand".
After she finishes narrating her boob touching, another security agent comes along, swabs her gloves and feeds the test strip into the machine. Keep in mind that no one has told me anything at this point about why they are testing me or what might happen next. Unbeknownst to me, during my public pat down, another security agent calmly explained to Rosie that I had tested positive for explosive residue, my bags were fine and that this sort of thing happens from time to time and isn't that big a deal. That all seems like info that I could have used, but whatever, making people think you're going to throw them out of their country into the sea or perhaps back to a country that, let's face it, didn't seem to like them all that much seems totally reasonable.
Finally, from my frisking spot I finally hear a faint set of happy beeps and I'm told without any positive intonation whatsoever that I could go. At that point, I was really kind of hoping for a "Sorry we thought you were a terrorist" sticker or something, but maybe they were out.
We finally made it to the ticketing area, waited for at least a half an hour to learn that our flight wasn't happening and that we'd have to wait in the airport until 9:30 the next morning for the next flight. Irritated but not defeated, we grabbed a bite to eat, checked in at one of those little kiosks and prepared to check our bags and I mentally prepared for the possibility of another frisking, since we'd have to go through security one more time.
Interesting thing about flying the next day but being stuck in the airport over night: you can't actually check your bag until 4am the morning of your flight. So, instead of sitting in actual seats near the gate, we spent the next 7 hours seated on the floor by the entrance you would use if you had taken the train to the airport. It was surprisingly chilly, given that it was Miami.
The rest of the night/next morning is pretty hazy. I know that Rosie and I each bought a day's worth of wifi access for $7.95, which is a very reasonable amount of money to ensure that neither person murders the other while sitting on a cold, uncomfortable floor. I remember a dude complaining to us about the price of airport food and I remember yelling at an American Airlines employee when I went to reprint our boarding passes because he was trying to help me...or something. Other than that, I'm not sure. I don't think I was frisked again, but maybe I was and I'd finally gotten used to it. Anyway, eventually we landed in St. Louis, then we picked up our dogs from my dad's house and we drove home.
And that's how I spent my Thanksgiving break, thank you.
I guess exhaustion only beat back terror for a couple hours, because we woke up at 6-ish the next morning. The funny thing about Costa Rica, is that while it's culturally very, very different from the US, it's not a backwards country in the least. The majority of cars are low emission Toyotas and Hondas, and while the houses in the countryside were smaller than the majority of American homes, nearly all of them had satellites mounted to their roofs. As such, El Motel Seis had wifi.
After we grabbed codes from the front desk, we stationed ourselves at our laptops (bring a laptop if you can, don't be one of those people who thinks they're too cool for technology. No one is cool when they are stranded. Remember Tom Hanks in Castaway? Friends with a volleyball. Not cool.) and set to the task of how to get the hell out of there.
After some research, we settled on potential hotel in the nearest beach town to the airport (just in case that went to hell too, at least then we could probably just sprint back to catch our flight) and Rosie called them and set up our reservation, as well as a shuttle to drive us the two hours back through the jungle.
We arrived at our new hotel, settled in and, aside from an inconvenient baconing incident at lunch, things calmed down for a bit. There were a few other suggestions that cosmically, CR still didn't want us there: our rainforest tour was cancelled and I was prompted to develop a new term called "terror farts" which I can explain at a later date, but on the whole it was a nice couple of days.
Then we had to come home. Customs at the CR airport was easy, then we boarded one of the new Boeing 737s that those stupid ads they make you watch before the safety videos on planes keep talking about. We landed in Miami, grabbed our checked bag and made it through the second part of customs. When I got to my agent, I couldn't understand what he was saying and accidentally gave conflicting answers, leading to a mildly embarrassing scene in which he yelled across the customs line to Rosie to confirm my identity so he didn't have to throw me out into the Atlantic Ocean, or something.
The final frontier of re-entering the country turns out to be hand swabbing. They take a little test strip, run it across your palms and feed it into a machine. The machine makes happy beeps and they send you on your way. Or at least that's what happened for Rosie.
When I stepped up to the swabbing plate, they wiped my palms, fed the strip into the machine but in place of happy beeps, I got angry, vengeful beeps. Obviously I had wronged these beeps in some way, but since the security lady didn't say anything, just gestured at me with an open palm as if to say "keep it moving" I said to Rosie "I guess we can go?", turned to pick up my bags and was told in a very loud voice to "STOP RIGHT THERE" and put my bags on the table for inspection. They opened my bags, asked me about their contents then another woman led me to the corner of the room (not a separate room, nor a curtained area, just a corner of the room) and explained to me in great detail the style in which she was about to frisk me.
"I will use a gloved, flat, open palm against all of your general areas. When I approach your personal areas I will turn my hand over and use the back of my hand. Do you understand what I'm about to do?" I nod that I do, and she begins her frisking, narrating as she goes. "Open palm, open palm, open palm" she says as I wonder what happens next, is it a detention room? Do they throw out my only long pants and only jacket that I'd brought on the tropical vacation so that I return to Chicago in shorts and a dirty t shirt? Do they just throw me in the ocean? Is this another Tom Hanks situation (you know, that one where he lives in the airport because his home country stops existing for a while or something)? I'm working pretty hard at not freaking out as she continues "open palm, open palm, back of hand, back of hand, back of hand".
After she finishes narrating her boob touching, another security agent comes along, swabs her gloves and feeds the test strip into the machine. Keep in mind that no one has told me anything at this point about why they are testing me or what might happen next. Unbeknownst to me, during my public pat down, another security agent calmly explained to Rosie that I had tested positive for explosive residue, my bags were fine and that this sort of thing happens from time to time and isn't that big a deal. That all seems like info that I could have used, but whatever, making people think you're going to throw them out of their country into the sea or perhaps back to a country that, let's face it, didn't seem to like them all that much seems totally reasonable.
Finally, from my frisking spot I finally hear a faint set of happy beeps and I'm told without any positive intonation whatsoever that I could go. At that point, I was really kind of hoping for a "Sorry we thought you were a terrorist" sticker or something, but maybe they were out.
We finally made it to the ticketing area, waited for at least a half an hour to learn that our flight wasn't happening and that we'd have to wait in the airport until 9:30 the next morning for the next flight. Irritated but not defeated, we grabbed a bite to eat, checked in at one of those little kiosks and prepared to check our bags and I mentally prepared for the possibility of another frisking, since we'd have to go through security one more time.
Interesting thing about flying the next day but being stuck in the airport over night: you can't actually check your bag until 4am the morning of your flight. So, instead of sitting in actual seats near the gate, we spent the next 7 hours seated on the floor by the entrance you would use if you had taken the train to the airport. It was surprisingly chilly, given that it was Miami.
The rest of the night/next morning is pretty hazy. I know that Rosie and I each bought a day's worth of wifi access for $7.95, which is a very reasonable amount of money to ensure that neither person murders the other while sitting on a cold, uncomfortable floor. I remember a dude complaining to us about the price of airport food and I remember yelling at an American Airlines employee when I went to reprint our boarding passes because he was trying to help me...or something. Other than that, I'm not sure. I don't think I was frisked again, but maybe I was and I'd finally gotten used to it. Anyway, eventually we landed in St. Louis, then we picked up our dogs from my dad's house and we drove home.
And that's how I spent my Thanksgiving break, thank you.
28 November 2012
Clearly, We're Going to Die Here, Part Uno
DISCLAIMER: This post is not about Jiu Jitsu, but it's my blog, so try and stop me.
Due to the Great Thanksgiving Eve Midwestern Fog, we were rerouted and delayed getting into Costa Rica. While we were set to arrive around 7:30pm, we actually showed up around 10:30, which seems to be a bit past CR's bedtime, because the buses and trams had long since stopped running for the night. Given that our choices were take a cab or sleep in the airport, we chose a two hour cab ride, through the jungle/mountains/countryside of Guanacaste. It was a well-paved "highway", but tiny and winding, with no shoulder to speak of a lot of drastic roadside drop-offs (I think there were drop-offs. It was also really dark out there).
After two or three years of riding in absolute silence, save for the quiet Reggae that Cab Driver seemed to dig, we arrived in the town of Samara, and followed the signs to our resort. By now its around 12:30am, so at first the sight of a huge wall, guard building and closed gate out front aren't that alarming, even if it is pitch black inside, because there are probably beds in there somewhere, we think. We pull into the drive and Cab Driver rolls down the window and starts speaking (in Spanish, of course) to a very surprised guard. Rosie and I don't really speak Spanish, so whatever they're saying is a mystery, but it's probably, hopefully about how happy they are to see us and how the beds here are the comfiest in all of CR. After a while, it becomes pretty clear that something's amiss. After being asked to understand Spanish (a request we were unable to fulfill) and writing down our names and reservation number on a very unofficial-looking legal pad, Guard spends some time on his walkie talkie and returns to talk to Cab Driver, who probably really just wants to go home. Cab Driver takes in the mystery information and looks concerned, we look concerned, Guard looks concerned, so we look concerned again.
Finally Cab Driver (who is probably about 19 years old) calls his English-speaking girlfriend and she explains that the hotel is closed for renovations and our reservation has been canceled, but that Cab Driver is going to take us to a hotel down the street. It's only when we start to ask follow up questions that we learn that she doesn't actually work for the hotel. We thank Girlfriend, mutter "gracias" to Guard and drive down back down the pitch dark street, past a free-wandering horse, toward our new hotel. After a couple of turns, we come upon a tiny gravel lot on what looks like one of the oldest, tiniest Motel Seis ever. It's after 1am by now, so the front desk area is empty and mostly dark, so Cab Driver gestures for us to stay put (where else would we go?) and makes enough of a ruckus to draw the attention of the night watchman, to whom he explains, I assume, that he has two very stupid white girls in his car and he's going to leave us for dead if Night Watchman doesn't let us have a room. Night Watchman agrees to let us have a room (and probably that we're stupid) and Cab Driver gets our bag from the back, we pay him a million, billion dollars for not killing us and leaving us in a ditch and send him on his way.
Inside the lobby, Night Watchman pulls out a composition book (the kind with the marbled cover and non-perforated, lined pages) and writes our names and our passport numbers then explains in vvveeerrrryyyy ssssslllooooowww Spanish that there may be someone who may be there sometime in the morning who maybe speaks English and can explain to us what is happening/has happened, probably, so go to sleep. We walk up the stairs to plain, mid-sized hotel room with a bathroom that's covered in fire ants and try to get some sleep.
After two or three years of riding in absolute silence, save for the quiet Reggae that Cab Driver seemed to dig, we arrived in the town of Samara, and followed the signs to our resort. By now its around 12:30am, so at first the sight of a huge wall, guard building and closed gate out front aren't that alarming, even if it is pitch black inside, because there are probably beds in there somewhere, we think. We pull into the drive and Cab Driver rolls down the window and starts speaking (in Spanish, of course) to a very surprised guard. Rosie and I don't really speak Spanish, so whatever they're saying is a mystery, but it's probably, hopefully about how happy they are to see us and how the beds here are the comfiest in all of CR. After a while, it becomes pretty clear that something's amiss. After being asked to understand Spanish (a request we were unable to fulfill) and writing down our names and reservation number on a very unofficial-looking legal pad, Guard spends some time on his walkie talkie and returns to talk to Cab Driver, who probably really just wants to go home. Cab Driver takes in the mystery information and looks concerned, we look concerned, Guard looks concerned, so we look concerned again.
Finally Cab Driver (who is probably about 19 years old) calls his English-speaking girlfriend and she explains that the hotel is closed for renovations and our reservation has been canceled, but that Cab Driver is going to take us to a hotel down the street. It's only when we start to ask follow up questions that we learn that she doesn't actually work for the hotel. We thank Girlfriend, mutter "gracias" to Guard and drive down back down the pitch dark street, past a free-wandering horse, toward our new hotel. After a couple of turns, we come upon a tiny gravel lot on what looks like one of the oldest, tiniest Motel Seis ever. It's after 1am by now, so the front desk area is empty and mostly dark, so Cab Driver gestures for us to stay put (where else would we go?) and makes enough of a ruckus to draw the attention of the night watchman, to whom he explains, I assume, that he has two very stupid white girls in his car and he's going to leave us for dead if Night Watchman doesn't let us have a room. Night Watchman agrees to let us have a room (and probably that we're stupid) and Cab Driver gets our bag from the back, we pay him a million, billion dollars for not killing us and leaving us in a ditch and send him on his way.
Inside the lobby, Night Watchman pulls out a composition book (the kind with the marbled cover and non-perforated, lined pages) and writes our names and our passport numbers then explains in vvveeerrrryyyy ssssslllooooowww Spanish that there may be someone who may be there sometime in the morning who maybe speaks English and can explain to us what is happening/has happened, probably, so go to sleep. We walk up the stairs to plain, mid-sized hotel room with a bathroom that's covered in fire ants and try to get some sleep.
Continued in part two. Stay tuned.
27 October 2012
The Machine
Like most girls, I had a lot of body image issues growing up. Most my friends were average to skinny sized gals and I wasn't. I was a bit chubby as a kid, but more than that, my body just didn't look like theirs. This perplexed me for the longest time. I didn't overeat, I got way more exercise than most of them, and I was naturally athletic so it ate at me every single day that my thighs were bigger than theirs, my shoulders broader and, eventually, my chest flatter. Sure, I was pleased that I could beat them at arm wrestling and outrun them (for the most part anyway, especially in a dead sprint for a short distance), but why did I look so weird? My parents were little help; my dad actually tried to bribe me into losing weight when I was 7 or 8. Looking back on it, this really wasn't their fault (though the reaction still strikes me as a touch harsh), as things like body types and nutritional needs were not yet common knowledge. No, this was still the age of aerobics.
So I took all this with me, grew up, gained and lost weight several times over, had a few different athletic pursuits, mostly successful, and still felt like there was something utterly wrong with me. It wasn't really until I started my Judo/BJJ journey that my thought pattern changed.
At the time I resumed my martial arts training, I was very, very heavy. I had worked too much and slept and exercised too little my last year of college, and in the year or so that followed, I had yet to find a way to shed the weight. When I started Judo and subsequently BJJ, I began to change the way I did things. I started being more cognizant of what I ate, I began running, cycling and sometimes swimming to augment my training. By the time I prepared for my second tournament, I was ready to commit to the diet and lifestyle completely. Once I had done that, a funny thing happened. I began to see myself differently. Sure, I had lost most the weight (it would all come off eventually) but more than that, I began to see myself not as a collection of flaws and rebellions against the notion of beauty, but instead I finally saw my body as something distinctly mine; my machine. My shoulders were no longer too broad and my super muscular (for a girl, anyway) upper body was no longer bulky and in need of sleeve cover. My legs, which I'd taken to calling the tree trunks, weren't ugly and stumpy, they were powerful. They could bridge my opponents and help me shrimp down the mat in less time than people much taller than I. Nearly every bodily quirk I had grown up trying to hide or fix suddenly had purpose in my game and my art and I was finding myself lucky to have a body that could do a pull up. Even more, the more I cared for that body by feeding it correctly and training and supporting it, the more it gave me back. The more hell I put it through on the mats and in my outside workouts, the more it gave me the next session.
So, I guess the moral of my story is this: teach your kids that their bodies do not necessarily define them, but rather facilitate what they want to do with their lives. Remind them (and yourselves, for that matter) that food is delicious, delicious fuel that helps the machine run. Practice helps refine the machine's precision. Sleep helps charge the machine's batteries. Most importantly, while their machine might not look exactly like anyone else's, if they put the time into building and maintaining it, it will work beautifully for exactly what they need it to do.
12 September 2012
Talking Shop
I've done a lot of sports in my time. Some of them I've even played at a competitive level. Over the years, something I noticed about other ladies who played the sports I played is that they never wanted to talk shop. They played the game but didn't seem to be fans of the game. Maybe its the niche nature of BJJ, but by and large, BJJers from the whitest white belt to the most threadbare black belts all seem to love to talk shop. And that's awesome.
I love having a conversation with someone in love with BJJ regardless of their skill level. Often, I get to ask questions and absorb information and perspectives like a sponge. Occasionally, I get asked for my opinion which forces me to put my knowledge and perspectives into words. Sometimes I get to hear great stories about the skillful practitioners, masters and crazy people who came before me.
I hope the BJJ community never becomes mainstream enough that there are people out there who aren't interested in it as a lifestyle (arguably, of course, there are already people training who hold this mentality, but still) but merely a hobby or fitness activity. Talking shop helps me fall deeper in love with jiu jitsu every day, and I don't want to have to stop.
31 August 2012
Notes on Women's Gis...
I love gis, but this is not supposed to be a blog all about gis. There are other blogs for that. Really, really good ones. But, once again, the teammates are picking my brain about good gis for the ladies, so here are my top picks/brands to watch for ladies.
- Fushida LS--As mentioned in the last post, I own a GS (the men's or gender-neutral version of the LS) and bought that instead of the LS because I really wanted a blue gi and the women's model only comes in white or black. That being said, the GS is one of my favorite gis and I'm positive that the LS is just as awesome. This gi features top reinforcements, comfy and heavy-duty drill cotton pants (I think they'll last forever!) and it's tailored without being tight. It's not super light, but for training, you really can't beat it. It's $150-160, depending on color, which puts it right in the middle of the pack, price-wise, but I'm convinced it beats just about everyone on quality, regardless of price. Plus, white or black with purple hits is classy but sick! http://shop.fushida.ca/Fushida-COMPLS-Womens-Jiu-Jitsu-BJJ-Gi-Kimono-p/compls-wh.htm
- CTRL Aloha--I have another of their models in a men's cut with a second coming in late October (yay, Knight!). These guys make some of the most designed-out, sexiest gis the world has ever known, plus they throw a great deal of quality in the mix, too. It is sold out for the moment, but it looks like they'll be back in stock pretty soon. This one is sized interestingly, too because they use the standard A0, A1, etc. but only go up to A2 and offer a bunch of in between sizes to accommodate the stocky and the skinny lady, which is pretty cool. Also in the middle on price at $150, I'd jump on it if I wanted a CTRL, since most their stuff is $10-20 more than this model. http://ctrlindustries.bigcartel.com/product/the-aloha
- Killer Bee Gi--If you're looking for something a touch easier on the budget, take a look at the women's Ligustica. Split sizing is available (different pants size from jacket size) plus their pants singlehandedly restored my faith in ripstop. Comfy, non-waxy and thick enough to not be see-through when sweaty (I think...mine are blue, so I can't say for sure.) This is another little guy company that really takes care of its customers. When I bought my gender neutral model, they were already marked down by 40% and much to my surprise, I found a free t shirt in with my order. It's nice little touches like that, along with a quality gi and prompt answers to customer questions that separates KBG and a few others from the gi pack. http://www.killerbeegi.com/products/womens-ligustica-mk-ii-white-gi-top-1
- Atama Mundial #9--If you catch it on sale and are a leaner gal (aka "surfboard" aka "boobless wonder") this gi is, in my opinion, pretty great. I like mine for competition because the weave feels light on my body, but is roughly the texture of sandpaper. The sleeves are also really tapered, so keeping grips is a challenge. The pants are a true parachute-style ripstop, which I really love for their lightness, and once again, the challenge that such an unusual texture provides in keeping a grip. Retailing at around $200, this is not a budget gi. However, bjjhq runs them every now and then and a Black Friday deal can bring the cost down around $150, which is about where this gi belongs, if you ask me.
- Honorable Mentions/Gis I haven't seen yet:
- Da Firma Kimonos--I'm looking forward to these guys. They're releasing their first women's specific model really soon and I've been following the process on Facebook. They've had about a million beta testers to ensure the sizing and fit are just right. Another little guy in the game that is really doing it right.
- Kingz 420--Good lightweight gi for cutting weight but I feel that the finishes are lacking on this for the retail price ($150). Also, there are a few little holes forming in the pants which suggests a blowout is on its way. Since I got this gi in April, that's pretty weak, if you ask me. I will say that the curvier lady will be all set with this model, while the lankier among us will be wishing for more sleeve length and less body width.
- Tatami Estilo 3.0--Haven't heard many bad things about Tatami. This gi should be at my doorstep tomorrow night, so I'll let you know how it turns out.
- Fuji Pink Blossom--One of the best bargains on the list, a fellow camper at Women's Grappling Camp loved this one, but for some reason my only Fuji gi just didn't fit my body. That being said, if you're on a budget, Fuji gives you a lot of quality for just under $100.
- I realize this list leaves quite a few companies out in the cold, but based on my experience and a lot of other people's reviews, these are my suggestions if you were in the market for a gi today.
27 August 2012
I Heart Gis: My Gi History
A little while back, one of my training partners, upon hearing about this blog thing, suggested I include a gi review section. A lot of people out there already do gi reviews, some semi-professionally, so at first I thought it would be a pretty colossal waste of time. The more I considered it though, not too many people like me are doing them. Couple that with the fact that my teammates are constantly asking me about whatever fancy-pants piece of cloth I'm donning and then I tell them and they forget and then I end up linking it on Facebook for them and in the end, it just seems simpler to say "Dude, just go read my blog. It's got links and stuff."
So, without further ado, here's a semi-detailed account of the gis I've owned in the past few years:
Sirius Ultra Lite (x4)--Yep, these were my first four (4!) gis. Calling them "ultra lite" should have been at least a misdemeanor offense, as it's not only a gold weave, but also more bulletproof than the Popemobile. However, I was coming from Judo at the time, and these suckers felt feather light to me back then. Simple gi, few frills but amazing reinforcements, and shrink to fit, which was important because I had to order an A2 for my weight (I'm barely an A0 nowadays in most brands) and shrinking the extremities was very necessary. Eventually, they were all too big and I sold two to a friend, donated one and loaned the other to a friend to try out a class...never got that last one back.
Break Point Limited Edition (x2)--I mostly bought these because the school I was training in was pretty gross (I distinctly remember break falling over a pile of cheetos there once) and the mat had turned the knees of my white gis gray. One of my only black gi outings, I remember really being into the extra pair of pants made of gi material, even though I almost never wore them because they were stupidly heavy, especially after they'd accumulated some sweat. The top was way lighter than my Sirius, which was like a brave new world to me. I liked the lightness so much that I added a blue one when Budovideos did their Mundial sale back in '10. I was pretty content with these guys for a long time, though they also require some shrinking (biggest A1 ever!). Over time I really grew to hate their wizardly sleeves because I was always losing the grip game against bigger opponents who would just wrap their entire fists in the sleeves and play spider guard until I cried. Gave one away to a training buddy, and recently sold the other to another training buddy who had borrowed it and loved it.
Fuji Single--My other foray into black gis, for the same reason as the first. This gi was soft but strong, not unlike a single weave version of the Sirius. No frills, build like a brick house and shrink to fit (I can't remember if that one was an A1 or A2, but I remember shrinking it a ton, even after I wasn't trying to anymore). Interesting thing about the Fuji is it may be among the last in BJJ to have a cloth filled collar, as opposed to the new standard rubber or foam filling. I gave to another teammate who is a bit taller than I. It's her favorite gi.
Fushida Mantis--I'd had my eye on Fushida since my judo days, but never had the guts to pull the trigger. On their first try at BJJ gis (which I think might make up the majority of their business nowadays), they released the Mantis and the Komodo. I picked the Mantis, as it was the lighter model. The top on that gi is one of my favorites still today, in no small part because of its narrowness through the shoulders and upper back. Lots of dudes disliked that cut and they widened the shoulder for their second release, but I wish they hadn't. It's tough to grab, but not uncomfortable for me to wear. The pants, on the other hand, were some of the worst I'd ever owned. It was the early days of ripstop trousers, and no one had quite nailed them yet, except for maybe Atama. They felt waxy and stiff and were cut very narrow through the hip for a lady and, because they were ripstop, had absolutely zero give. The result? I ripped my pants from above my ass to mid-calf while visiting another academy. Thank god for compression shorts, amIright? Eventually I replaced the pants with some Jiu Jitsu ProGear (JJPG) ripstops and still wear that combo today.
JJPG Ripstop--Bought based on a friend's recommendation and discount. I think I paid $70, but instantly hated it as soon as I started warmups in it. It was too big out of the bag and didn't shrink an inch, so I was once again very easy to grip because of the lethal combination of light fabric and bagginess. Oddly, the website stated that it would shrink lots, suggesting people order up a size from their norm. At that point I learned that I should never trust the weight specifications a gi company gives me. Because of my muscular build and broad shoulders, I now tend to estimate 10-15lbs under my actual weight when assessing potential fit. I sold this to a teammate, who, come to think of it, never paid me!
Atama Mundial no. 9 Women's Cut (x2)--Found great deals on these gis at separate times. Got one from bjjhq and loved the tailored top and crazy-light pants, picked up another one on Atama's Black Friday sale. Still some of my favorites, though the F3 sized pants are a touch large nowadays.
Fushida CompGS--The first gi I ever pre-ordered, Fushida made some improvements and some less awesome changes from the Mantis to this. First, the pants are a very thick drill cotton, which couldn't be much further from the wax paper ripstop from before. They let out the upper back (bummer) and the sleeves and pantlegs got a little longer. I've shrunk my A1 (should have held out for an A0, but they don't make them in this model, I think) as far as it will go and while it's not my most tailored, it's nowhere near the BreakPoint or JJPG in terms of being oversized. It's a higher-end workhorse of a gi that I love to wear on judo days.
Kingz 420 Women's Cut--(F2) This was another bjjhq adventure. The lightest gi I've ever bought and my first and only experience with the rashguard material gusset. It's a great gi to use for weight-making purposes, and it is comfy, but honestly, it's nothing too special. It's clearly cut for a more lady-shaped lady than myself as there's ample room in the jacket for the boobs I don't have and in the pants for an ass that just won't quit. In the end, I'm giving it to my girlfriend as her first BJJ gi (she's got a lot of boob).
Killer Bee Gi--(A1) KBG was having a huge inventory clearance which gave 40% off. They were already one of the cheapest buys on the market at $112, so I took a chance and dropped the $67-ish dollars on a blue A1. It arrived when I was at a pretty rough point in my training, so it sat unworn for over a month. Now it's another go-to for Judo days as it's a little larger and heavier (not Sirius heavy, but on the beefier side) and is just plain cozy to wear. Plus it guarantees that everyone on the mat will refer to you as "KillahB" all session long, so that's fun.
Ouano Women's Gi-- Apparently, Ouano plays by their own rules when comes to sizing because this F2 would be called an F4 by any other brand. I got it in the mail, got really nervous about size and shot an email to Ouano asking if it would shrink and how much. The guy who responded (not Ouano himself) said that it would shrink, possibly a lot if I really tortured it. I soaked it in near boiling water, washed hot, dried hot, set it out in the July afternoon sun and a weird thing happened: while the torso shrunk significantly, the sleeves and pant legs shrunk very little, if at all. I ended up having the sleeves tailored to the specs of my Mantis, but the fit was still a little off. Again, I sold it to a teammate who is just a little bigger and way better-endowed than I. She's enjoying it, which is great because it's a pretty cute gi.
Ctrl Carioca 1.1--(A0) After my Ouano-related heartbreak, I decided to get back in the saddle with Ctrl, a brand I had oft made fun of for its goofy name(you're supposed to pronounce it "control" but I insist on "kit-arl") and Shoyoroll-esque pre-sales. But, I had read great things about it and was lusting after something Brazilian flag colored for some time (I basically wanted a gi version of their national team's away soccer jersey). I'm really glad I pulled the trigger because this may be my most-tailored, comfiest gi. Plus it's sexy as hell. Shrunk the top just a touch and it fits like a sexy, sexy glove.
So, I think that's everybody.
I've had some close calls on Koral, Bad Boy, Isami and Vulcan (I think a Vulcan gi may be stalking me) but I've never quite pulled the trigger on these badboys. I also got really close to picking up a SYR Yank when I ended up grabbing my second Atama, but this is my only close call with SYR.
I have two more gis in the pipeline. My second Ctrl (the Knight) will be here in about a month and a half and I just grabbed a Tatami Estilo 3.0 (Women's Cut) in white. Later on, a small gi company called Da Firma is coming out with a slick-looking women's gi and I'll likely get one of those, since I love supporting the little guys (see Killer Bee entry above.)
At this point, my top 5 gis for my body type and fit preferences are:
Yes, I am a crazy person. No, I don't spend money on regular clothes. That's how I afford gis. It should also be pointed out that with the exception of my Mantis and Ctrl gis, I have never paid full retail price for a gi but have instead opted to check bjjhq vigilantly, troll Sherdog for coupon codes and hit the Black Friday sales. If the BJJ industry sent out newspaper coupons, you'd better believe I'd be clipping the hell out of them.
So, without further ado, here's a semi-detailed account of the gis I've owned in the past few years:
Sirius Ultra Lite (x4)--Yep, these were my first four (4!) gis. Calling them "ultra lite" should have been at least a misdemeanor offense, as it's not only a gold weave, but also more bulletproof than the Popemobile. However, I was coming from Judo at the time, and these suckers felt feather light to me back then. Simple gi, few frills but amazing reinforcements, and shrink to fit, which was important because I had to order an A2 for my weight (I'm barely an A0 nowadays in most brands) and shrinking the extremities was very necessary. Eventually, they were all too big and I sold two to a friend, donated one and loaned the other to a friend to try out a class...never got that last one back.
Break Point Limited Edition (x2)--I mostly bought these because the school I was training in was pretty gross (I distinctly remember break falling over a pile of cheetos there once) and the mat had turned the knees of my white gis gray. One of my only black gi outings, I remember really being into the extra pair of pants made of gi material, even though I almost never wore them because they were stupidly heavy, especially after they'd accumulated some sweat. The top was way lighter than my Sirius, which was like a brave new world to me. I liked the lightness so much that I added a blue one when Budovideos did their Mundial sale back in '10. I was pretty content with these guys for a long time, though they also require some shrinking (biggest A1 ever!). Over time I really grew to hate their wizardly sleeves because I was always losing the grip game against bigger opponents who would just wrap their entire fists in the sleeves and play spider guard until I cried. Gave one away to a training buddy, and recently sold the other to another training buddy who had borrowed it and loved it.
Fuji Single--My other foray into black gis, for the same reason as the first. This gi was soft but strong, not unlike a single weave version of the Sirius. No frills, build like a brick house and shrink to fit (I can't remember if that one was an A1 or A2, but I remember shrinking it a ton, even after I wasn't trying to anymore). Interesting thing about the Fuji is it may be among the last in BJJ to have a cloth filled collar, as opposed to the new standard rubber or foam filling. I gave to another teammate who is a bit taller than I. It's her favorite gi.
Fushida Mantis--I'd had my eye on Fushida since my judo days, but never had the guts to pull the trigger. On their first try at BJJ gis (which I think might make up the majority of their business nowadays), they released the Mantis and the Komodo. I picked the Mantis, as it was the lighter model. The top on that gi is one of my favorites still today, in no small part because of its narrowness through the shoulders and upper back. Lots of dudes disliked that cut and they widened the shoulder for their second release, but I wish they hadn't. It's tough to grab, but not uncomfortable for me to wear. The pants, on the other hand, were some of the worst I'd ever owned. It was the early days of ripstop trousers, and no one had quite nailed them yet, except for maybe Atama. They felt waxy and stiff and were cut very narrow through the hip for a lady and, because they were ripstop, had absolutely zero give. The result? I ripped my pants from above my ass to mid-calf while visiting another academy. Thank god for compression shorts, amIright? Eventually I replaced the pants with some Jiu Jitsu ProGear (JJPG) ripstops and still wear that combo today.
JJPG Ripstop--Bought based on a friend's recommendation and discount. I think I paid $70, but instantly hated it as soon as I started warmups in it. It was too big out of the bag and didn't shrink an inch, so I was once again very easy to grip because of the lethal combination of light fabric and bagginess. Oddly, the website stated that it would shrink lots, suggesting people order up a size from their norm. At that point I learned that I should never trust the weight specifications a gi company gives me. Because of my muscular build and broad shoulders, I now tend to estimate 10-15lbs under my actual weight when assessing potential fit. I sold this to a teammate, who, come to think of it, never paid me!
Atama Mundial no. 9 Women's Cut (x2)--Found great deals on these gis at separate times. Got one from bjjhq and loved the tailored top and crazy-light pants, picked up another one on Atama's Black Friday sale. Still some of my favorites, though the F3 sized pants are a touch large nowadays.
Fushida CompGS--The first gi I ever pre-ordered, Fushida made some improvements and some less awesome changes from the Mantis to this. First, the pants are a very thick drill cotton, which couldn't be much further from the wax paper ripstop from before. They let out the upper back (bummer) and the sleeves and pantlegs got a little longer. I've shrunk my A1 (should have held out for an A0, but they don't make them in this model, I think) as far as it will go and while it's not my most tailored, it's nowhere near the BreakPoint or JJPG in terms of being oversized. It's a higher-end workhorse of a gi that I love to wear on judo days.
Kingz 420 Women's Cut--(F2) This was another bjjhq adventure. The lightest gi I've ever bought and my first and only experience with the rashguard material gusset. It's a great gi to use for weight-making purposes, and it is comfy, but honestly, it's nothing too special. It's clearly cut for a more lady-shaped lady than myself as there's ample room in the jacket for the boobs I don't have and in the pants for an ass that just won't quit. In the end, I'm giving it to my girlfriend as her first BJJ gi (she's got a lot of boob).
Killer Bee Gi--(A1) KBG was having a huge inventory clearance which gave 40% off. They were already one of the cheapest buys on the market at $112, so I took a chance and dropped the $67-ish dollars on a blue A1. It arrived when I was at a pretty rough point in my training, so it sat unworn for over a month. Now it's another go-to for Judo days as it's a little larger and heavier (not Sirius heavy, but on the beefier side) and is just plain cozy to wear. Plus it guarantees that everyone on the mat will refer to you as "KillahB" all session long, so that's fun.
Ouano Women's Gi-- Apparently, Ouano plays by their own rules when comes to sizing because this F2 would be called an F4 by any other brand. I got it in the mail, got really nervous about size and shot an email to Ouano asking if it would shrink and how much. The guy who responded (not Ouano himself) said that it would shrink, possibly a lot if I really tortured it. I soaked it in near boiling water, washed hot, dried hot, set it out in the July afternoon sun and a weird thing happened: while the torso shrunk significantly, the sleeves and pant legs shrunk very little, if at all. I ended up having the sleeves tailored to the specs of my Mantis, but the fit was still a little off. Again, I sold it to a teammate who is just a little bigger and way better-endowed than I. She's enjoying it, which is great because it's a pretty cute gi.
Ctrl Carioca 1.1--(A0) After my Ouano-related heartbreak, I decided to get back in the saddle with Ctrl, a brand I had oft made fun of for its goofy name(you're supposed to pronounce it "control" but I insist on "kit-arl") and Shoyoroll-esque pre-sales. But, I had read great things about it and was lusting after something Brazilian flag colored for some time (I basically wanted a gi version of their national team's away soccer jersey). I'm really glad I pulled the trigger because this may be my most-tailored, comfiest gi. Plus it's sexy as hell. Shrunk the top just a touch and it fits like a sexy, sexy glove.
So, I think that's everybody.
I've had some close calls on Koral, Bad Boy, Isami and Vulcan (I think a Vulcan gi may be stalking me) but I've never quite pulled the trigger on these badboys. I also got really close to picking up a SYR Yank when I ended up grabbing my second Atama, but this is my only close call with SYR.
I have two more gis in the pipeline. My second Ctrl (the Knight) will be here in about a month and a half and I just grabbed a Tatami Estilo 3.0 (Women's Cut) in white. Later on, a small gi company called Da Firma is coming out with a slick-looking women's gi and I'll likely get one of those, since I love supporting the little guys (see Killer Bee entry above.)
At this point, my top 5 gis for my body type and fit preferences are:
- Atama Mundial no 9 (only truly worth it if you catch it on a sale, never retail)
- Fushida CompGS (favorite?)
- Fushida Mantis
- Killer Bee Gi
- Ctrl Carioca 1.1 (favorite?)
Yes, I am a crazy person. No, I don't spend money on regular clothes. That's how I afford gis. It should also be pointed out that with the exception of my Mantis and Ctrl gis, I have never paid full retail price for a gi but have instead opted to check bjjhq vigilantly, troll Sherdog for coupon codes and hit the Black Friday sales. If the BJJ industry sent out newspaper coupons, you'd better believe I'd be clipping the hell out of them.
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