BJJ Journal #3: Just call me MJ. Or Heath.

I have a problem. It's probably not unique to me, but it still sucks. Balls. And now I'm self-medicating like a drug-addled celebrity to get through my grappling day, popping pills in a hopefully fruitful manoeuvre to negate new pain, ease compression, and make my evenings generally go more swell. Oh wait... you probably have no idea what I'm talking about so I should probably backpedal here a little, eh?

Okay, here goes.

Maybe it's part of what some friends have called training burnout, but in the past few weeks I've been mired in an almost constant agony in my joints, muscles, bones... even seemingly into my marrow. Everything just hurts. Whine, whine, whine, I know, but I've worked out for the majority of my adult life in some capacity or other, and this just feels different. My ribs and spine actually ache at times in a fashion completely unfamiliar, and I'm wondering what's going wrong in there. It's a really deep-seated discomfort that transcends the garden-variety soreness you get from working out hard, and as someone who normally gives massages rather than receives them, I'm almost gratified to the point of tears on the odd occasion anyone actually reaches over and gives me an impromptu rub.

But what's going on? I can pinpoint the main beginning of this Stunning New-Ass Pain (SNAP) last Tuesday. I woke up that morning feeling particularly stiff and achy, and that distracting discomfort slowburned for the bulk of the day. Nevertheless, I ignored it as I figured it was just from training hard the previous Saturday. (I'd worked with an old buddy who hadn't been in for ages, but when we drilled guard passes together he kept tossing and submitting me in a very matter-of-fact, systematic manner despite my genuine attempts to free myself. Needless to say, this was a horribly humbling and daunting experience that still required a lot of energy and left me feeling such a spineless failure. Hence, my easy attribution for the SNAP a few days later.) Then came Tuesday night, where despite almost crushing fatigue and sense of general malaise, I soldiered on through class with a fantastic new partner ~ a deceivingly-delicate 17-year-old female judo champion who's been training for ten years and competing hard for three. However, every time she swept me onto my back, it knocked the wind out of my lungs and left my back aching. Was I not falling right? Was I not bracing myself properly so I ended up landing harder than I should've? What?

And then... the coup de grâce. While drilling in that class, I was on the mat about to reset to be tossed again when one of my favourite big guys landed hard (that pair was going fast) and essentially roundhouse-kicked my ear/cheekbone. Boot to the head... literally. I apparently screamed this dying animal cry as I collapsed headfirst, stunned. After I realized I wasn't deaf in that ear, I relaxed a bit, only to allow the acute agony and shock come flooding over me in this overwhelming need to bust out and cry. As my buddy frantically kept asking to see if I was alright, I responded by staring hard at him, forcing a scary rictus of a grin on my face and the tears to stay at bay, insisting I was fine... just fine, no worries. My new partner kept watching me with widened eyes, saying the kick looked really bad, but it was surprising how you couldn't even tell what had happened since I didn't bruise or physically swell much there at all.

Suffice it to say, though, the rest of the night I pulled through with every ounce of crushed fight in me, and if I was feeling miserable even before class started, I was fully acknowledging the full-on crappy physical/emotional/mental funk into which I was spiralling deeply. If I've ever had a bad night of training, that one might've just taken the sweet cake, whipped cream, berries, and all. Not to bitch about it too much, but it still hurts now whenever I give hugs and even slightly mush that area. Should I be glad it looks perfectly fine, or do I want something that reflects how bad it feels? Am I aiming for fighter over girly vanity these days?

Then, for the first time in around four weeks, I skipped out on Thursday morning rolling with a bunch of cool dudes, including wonderfully kind G-Spot. I felt terrible not going, but I simply couldn't bring myself to go with my worsening SNAP... much less walk all three kids there and back, make breakfast, lunch, clean up, and do three loads of laundry before my Thursday night classes. I mean, I could barely even rotate from side to side for my back muscles hurting so much and feeling kind of wrong against my ribcage both front and back. Thus, I stayed in bed an extra hour and slept, which did help a tiny little bit.

Nevertheless, I've still been crazy achy, where even breathing sometimes hurts. Thus... tonight, I caved in and tried something that I'd briefly considered doing before, but totally pooh-poohed before I acted on the thought.

Just as my sweet friend, the Back Adjuster, was coming to pick me up, I popped two ibuprofen, partly to ward away current pain, but also to see if they could help my muscles and joints stay looser and SNAP free throughout class. And you know, since we were working on switching bases and concentrating on focussing pressure, it was a little painful at times, especially the side control/squeezed ribs thingie. But it was actually bearable. And I was thrilled with the way I rolled tonight, where I made it super hard for people to submit me, and I actually sank a real gi-choke submission on someone far more advanced... it was my very, very first gi-choke ever while rolling with a dude.

Obviously, the meds were helping because I felt waaay better training tonight than I've felt since last Tuesday, so I may just break down and do it again on Thursday for all the help I think it gave me. I was at least able to concentrate on technique tonight, not fight to concentrate through my protesting body.

At the same time, I can't make a practice of this because it's ideal to either fix the cause itself... or suck up the pain. I really should listen to friends and at least try the epsom salt baths, ingest some fish oils, and remember to take my nightly vitamins and minerals. And stretch more. Get back into Pilates when the kids are distracted. Maybe it's a whole host of things and not just impending geriatricism.

Regardless of which, I'm going to try and glean a lesson out of this SNAP ordeal: If you really feel you've thrown every bit of yourself into something and are down to just the lint in your belly button and odd bits of body jewelry, just tap out and reset yourself. It's no use fighting yourself down to the ground or locking yourself in meaningless attrition because then you become ineffective and stagnant.

And if you need a painkiller, just take the damn thing, albeit prudently. Otherwise, you might eventually be found naked and in various stages of rigor mortis on your bed by the traumatized help. Not that you'd have anything to live down at that point... but still. Think of the children. Think of the children.




(photo credit: this molecule strand of Advil comes from this informative little site.)