WEEK 20--Karate Kata Class

Once in a while it is good for us to attempt something we are utterly useless at. To embrace the role of hapless novice. This is especially good for the kind of person who likes to feel competent and who devotes a good deal of their time and energy to avoiding making mistakes. Or avoiding being seen to make a mistake. In private I am quite happy to cock up a crossword, for example. If there's a chance someone will see my efforts, however, I will fill in any gaps with made-up words, so that it looks as if I've completed it. (This scandalises my father-in-law. But he uses an electronic clue-solver, so we may safely disregard his opinion here.)

Anyway, back to adopting the role of novice. This is certainly what I did last Tuesday night when I went along to my first karate kata class. For those not in the know, a kata is a set series of choreographed moves, performed to teach/demonstrate certain aspects of a martial art. It is short for katastrophic balls-up of elementary technique. Here's what we did:

Karateka will immediately recognise this as pinan nidan. According to our sensei (Japanese for 'person at the front shouting'), most people master about half of pinan nidan by the end of their first hour long session. I warned him I am am hopeless at this kind of thing. He reassured me it would be all right. I think even he was taken aback when the hour was over and I had only managed to get my head round move 1, (essentially, taking a sidestep and raising your arm, see diagram). Naturally, I could remember odd snatches of later parts of the kata, but not in the right order. Or with the correct limbs, or facing in the proper direction. It's the same when I stop and ask people for directions. Remembering the last three instructions is no use when you turn left instead of right at the beginning.

Still, I know from judo that if you repeat something enough times, it will eventually enter the muscle memory. By 'enough times', I think we are talking something in the region of 500 hours. Maybe I'll write a book about my quest to get a karate black belt before I'm 90.

WEEK 14--First Ever Karate Grading

Result!!!

'Are you nervous?' this was something I was asked a lot in the run-up to the grading last Sunday Morning. Answer: 'Not really.' I hesitate to say it was a piece of pish, partly because that would be vulgar, but mostly because I have no doubt that steps could be taken to ensure future gradings are hellish if I make light of the experience.

But the truth is, after judo gradings on the 1st Dan mat (i.e. people fighting for their black belt) last Sunday held few terrors. The only ghastly moment was when I asked how much it would cost and was told £80--which I believed. (£25 in fact.) To use an analogy from the world of dentistry, if novice level karate gradings are a scale and polish, judo gradings are root canal fillings. And at black belt level, they are root canal fillings when the dentist is John Geilgud off The Marathon Man.

For a start, last Sunday's examination was done within the club by our own coach. It was held in a small private room at the Leisure Centre. (Rather than in a hall the size of an aircraft hanger reeking of testosterone and populated by psychotic teenagers and blokes with half their teeth missing.) Our sensei (coach) held a brief training session before the grading to refresh us on our various waza (techniques), then we were away. For those of you interested in such things, (basically, my Mum), I came away with a level 2 pass. There are 3 pass levels, with 1 being 'teacher's pet' and 3 being 'could do better'. I gather it gets a lot harder as you progress through the grades, culminating in a 3hr exam for 1st Dan. They speak of passing out from terror and exhaustion, of bleeding toes and other things the Geneva Convention was supposed to put a stop to.

But that's a long way off, and at this point, I would gladly spend another Mothering Sunday in this manner. Our new belts were awarded yesterday night at the training session. I was warned not to wash it with my kit. Hah! I knew that already! Martial arts laundry-waza is obviously a transferable skill.

Week 4: Top Secret, Press Embargo

This is frustrating. I have done my new thing for the week, but it is so secret that I’m not allowed to tell you about it until after the official press releases. So instead I’ll tell you a bit more about that first new thing I did—karate.

There’s karate and karate, it turns out. According to the fount of all wisdom—and here I mean wikipedia, not my judo sensei, Keith—these are many styles: Budōkan, Chitō-ryū, Gensei-ryū, Gōjū-ryū, Gosoku-ryu, Isshin-ryū, Kobayashi Shōrin-ryū, Koei-Kan, Kuma-Ryu, Matsubayashi-ryū, Motobu-ryu, Mushindo Kempo, Ryū Te, Ryūei-ryū, Shitō-ryū, Shohei-ryu, Shōrin-ryū, Shōrei-ryū, Shorinjiryu Kenkokan, Shōrinji-ryū, Shōtōkai, Shotokan, Shūdōkan, Shūkōkai, Shuri-ryū, Tōon-ryū, Uechi-ryū, Wadō-ryū, Yoseikan-ryu, Yoshukai. (NB. Don’t rely on that list. ‘This article is being considered for deletion in accordance with Wikipedia's deletion policy.’ I bet you didn’t bother to read it, even, did you? Blah blah blah. Skim, skim. It was just martial arts white noise to you.)

The class I’m currently enrolled in is Wado ryu, which I believe is Japanese for ‘mad bastard’. Though scanning down the wiki descriptions, I see that in the hard/soft league table, Wado ryu includes techniques in both categories, but is ‘primarily soft’. I glimpsed some mats tonight, but it was a false dawn. They were for the Junior class before ours, and vanished before we started. Bye bye, mats. I love you. I have grumbled about you thousands of times as we put you away at the end of a judo session, but I miss you guys!

Because tonight we novices were learning break falls. Sensei said to me ‘You’ll know this, of course.’ Why yes. I know exactly how to fall on a hard floor. And exactly how much it will hurt WITHOUT MATS. Sigh.

I walked home afterwards. It’s about a mile from the Leisure Centre to The Close, and it takes you down Bird St, where all the restaurants are. Interestingly, this was the street we were warned against when we first moved here. Don’t go down Bird St at night! Very dangerous, Bird St. Binge drinking, fights, you name it. I’d have to say that after Walsall town centre on a Friday night, we found we were able to hold our nerve anywhere in Lichfield. I probably shouldn’t say that in this blog, as I know it’s read by Lichfeldians, and dissing the local crime rates puts people’s backs up. What do you mean, no crime? We have crime! It’s like when Americans sneer at our snow.

Anyhow, as I walked past the smells of garlic and curry, and heard a riff of saxophone from an upstairs window, I realised that I was feeling… alive. That’s what taking up something new can do for you. I recommend it. Hey, man up--it’s primarily soft, after all.