Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week is want to talk about results. Or, more specifically, a result oriented versus process oriented paradigm.
I recently competed in the IBJJF Pan championships. In the the world of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu in the gi, this is considered a grand slam event.
People travel from all over the world to compete and watch this tournament. It just so happens to take place right in my backyard. It also happens to take place during spring break time when I had time off work.
It seemed silly, given those factors, not to sign up and compete. Even though I knew I would be unable to train and prepare to the full extent I wanted to, I signed up for the competition with high expectations.
Having competed the previous year losing my first match 0-0 via a referee decision, I went into this tournament hoping to improve on my performance but also on my results. Two very distinct categories.
I wasn’t unhappy with my performance from last year, but the results were definitely a gut check. They led to a reassessment of my training and preparation.
This year I signed up for a smaller local competition a month before Pans. I wanted to get a more recent reminder of the competitive atmosphere in my memory than the previous loss at last year’s Pans. I wrote about that tournament here.
Through a freak accident to the wrestling coach at our gym, I ended up taking over teaching the class. This meant not only more reps and training, but also much more time thinking about the wrestling and takedown aspects of BJJ competition.
I also took over teaching the Gi class that I normally attended since that instructor had moved out of the country.
Again, this meant a lot more mental preparation and thinking about techniques, even if the amount of time spent physically training was less than I would have wanted it to be.
I felt good going in to Pans. Mentally strong. Physically strong. I had a solid three plus weeks of very clean eating and living in order to get down to the lightweight limit. A roughly 10 pound drop from my normal walking around weight.
I arrived to the convention center early so I could have a long, low, and slow warmup. Waking up the body and the mind, as much as working out the nervous energy, I jumped right out of my jump rope. After about an hour of watching matches and intermittantly jumping, the set screw gave way, and one of the rope ends flew right out of the handle. It was strangely self gratifying in my ability to outlast the equipment.
I made my way to the weigh in and the fighter holding pen. Mutch different from my wrestling days, weigh-ins are immediately prior to your match as opposed to first thing in the morning. The fighter pen is a small cattle herd of metal barricades, keeping in the nervous energy and testosterone, jittering bouncing and going over final preparations for the combat ahead.
I felt the anxiety of the impending competition. Those familiar butterflies in my stomach, even after all the years of grappling. If that feeling is no longer present, I will have to rethink further competition.
Like I have done before every wrestling or BJJ match I can remember, I started my final warmup with an our father prayer. I followed that with my own prayer to wrestle 6 minutes hard. 6 minutes strong. 6 minutes smart. 6 minutes safe. To have a performance that I can be proud of, and that my family can be proud of. To be gracious in victory or defeat. To keep myself and my competitors free from injury.
My name was called along with my opponent for the first match. We shook hands and hugged before walking to the mats.
I bounced and stretched at the mats edge, trying to clear my mind, creating a blank canvas for the match ahead.
I’ve written before about the special place that competitive athletic endeavors have for me. Like walking through a portal, I feel transported. Stepping onto the mat, for those five minutes, (high-school wrestling matches are six and my prayer has not been updated, better to err on the long side anyway) everything else fades away. The canvas is blank to create a piece of art and tell a story, together with my opponent, without any of our other baggage.
We stood wrestling for the first two minutes or so of the match. I felt I had the upper hand with takedowns and pressed my advantage. After a few near takedowns, I saw my opponent gasp for a deep breath and change his stance and posture. I knew my next shot would be successful.
After scoring the takedown, I followed my game plan and won the match on top, threatening to pass his guard and attack his left arm. The match went about as well as I could have hoped for and I advanced to the quarter finals.
I had plenty of time to catch my breath, stretch, and recover before being called up for my next match. Again, I shook hands and hugged my opponent before walking from the pen to the mats.
Already in a better spot than I was the previous year, I knew winning this match would see me on the podium. That was the goal I had set for this competition, make the podium.
The match started similar to the first. We wrestled standing for a minute or so were I felt I had an advantage. My opponent recognized this and pulled guard.
We ended up in his 50/50 guard, a leg entanglement where our respective right legs are interlaced, knees to knee with him laying on his back and me standing.
It is a difficult position to get out of, and comes with the risk of an easy transition from bottom to top. That would give my opponent 2 points for a sweep and in all likelihood a deficit that would be hard to overcome.
I pressed forward, testing the flexibility of his hip and the strength of his lock on the other leg. With enough pressure I could break the lock and potentially attack the knee. I had to be careful to keep my balance, falling backward even if i stayed on top could give my opponent and advantage point that would be hard to overcome.
At one point, I was able to break the lock of his legs and press forward. He recovered, but i felt i was making progress. Before I knew it, the match was over.
0-0 no advantage points given. Under the circumstances, the match would be decided by the referee. My opponent won the referee’s decision.
To say I was disappointed by the results would be an understatement. It is hard to walk away with a loss, without feeling like you were beaten. It is a confusing mental space.
In contrast, I was happy with my performance. I was aggressive. I didn’t make any tactical or strategic mistakes. Every position I found myself in, I had a clear mental path forward. I was gracious in victory and in defeat.
I’m still not sure how to process the outcome. It isn’t a win, but it doesn’t feel like a loss either. Complaining isn’t helpful, nor is beating myself up or second guessing my performance. There are always areas to improve upon, but there was no glaring hole in my game that was exposed by those two matches.
I’m trying instead to shift focus away from the result, and back to the process. I have much more control over the latter than the former.
Focusing on the process is something I can change. I can take the frustration over the results and direct it somewhere positive. There are levers that can be pulled and dials that can be turned. The results, are what they are, and revisiting them is unproductive.
I can continue to work on my wrestling in the gi, not giving my opponents the chance to pull guard, or forcing them to do so from a place of weakness.
I can continue to develop a style that is aggressive and attacking. I can work to improve positions where I find myself stuck. I can find additional time to train, and prioritize bjj as i approach competitions in the future.
I’m disappointed with the results, but I’m content with my preparation and performance. Resetting my focus back to the process has brought some much needed serenity in the face of uncertainty over those results.
Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.
