The History of Japanese Boxing

At The Budo Journeyman, there was a post describing the history of western boxing in Japan, as well as a look at striking in general. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

I recently read an interview with Okinawan karate expert Patrick McCarthy, in which he said; (worth quoting in its fuller version, to give context):

“Rare as they may be, I witnessed several street/pub confrontations with salary men, over the many years I resided in Japan. I never paid much attention to the fact that not once did I ever see a Japanese kick or punch each other in such encounters. Rather, it was more aggressive shoving, slapping and wrestling than the kind of physical brutality we’ve become so used to in the West. In a conversation with my Fujisawa boxing coach, Mr. Yamagami, I was surprised to learn that Japanese did not have a history of using a kobushi (clenched fist) in street confrontations. In fact, according to him, such a thing did not become popular until the post-war years and even then, it was mostly amongst Yakuza-type Japanese. Later, when I was doing some research …, I discovered a 1921 article written by Sasaki Gogai, in which he talks about how excited the Japanese all were about (kobushi-based fighting) after watching the Jack Dempsy [sic] vs Georges Carpentier’s world title bout in New Jersey earlier that year. When I started asking a few questions here and there I was very surprised to learn that the said fight was the first time a nation (Japan) had ever seen boxing!”

Source: https://www.usadojo.com/one-on-one-with-hanshi-patrick-mccarthy/

I had never thought about this before, and so started to dig into it.

Early boxing in Japan.

It seems that boxing (in a small way) was experienced by the Japanese as early as Matthew Perry and the ‘Black Ships’.

In 1854 there was a kind of sporting bout between a western sailor and a Japanese sumo wrestler. I am pretty sure the wrestler would have tried to use the sumo-style slaps and then bounce the guy, but would have probably suffered against the boxing methodology of the sailor, (which, I wouldn’t have imagined was very sophisticated. In England at the time, the champion boxer was Tom Sayers, who would have been of the bare-knuckled fighting breed). It’s difficult to find any reliable details.

This wasn’t necessarily a full cultural exchange, or the springboard for the Japanese to embrace boxing. That was to come much later.

The establishment of Japanese boxing.

According to Wiki, ‘The first boxing gym Meriken Training Institute (メリケン練習所) was established in Ishikawachō, Yokohama, Kanagawa by James Hōjō (ジェームス 北條) and Toranosuke Saitō (齋藤 虎之助) in 1896. After the first tutorial book, Bōgeki Jizai Seiyō Kentōjutsu (防撃自在西洋拳闘術) was issued in 1900, followed shortly by International Jūken Club (国際柔拳倶楽部) was opened in Mikage, Kobe by Kenji Kanō in 1909’.

Boxing as a sport in Japan became a real thing in the 1920’s with the setting up of professional organisations. So really, boxing had at least forty years of development before the Dempsey fight.

I suspect Mr McCarthy is making a quiet case for the novelty of the Okinawan method of attacking with the fist in a ‘punching’ manner (as it might have appeared to 1920 city dwellers in Tokyo and Osaka). But we know that fighting with the fist had a very long tradition in China, which then leaked across to Okinawa.

Striking arts in Japanese martial arts.

It depends how pedantic you want to be about this. I mean, what do we mean by the fist? Is anything with a closed hand a fist?

The older forms of unarmed combat in Japan had hand strikes a plenty, but not really with the intent of repeatedly bludgeoning someone into submission or unconsciousness. The hand strikes in jujutsu had many nuanced uses; anything from a distraction to an incapacitating nerve strike (strikes to neck, the philtrum or the temple, or multiple other hits to the head, have always been there).

Just to be clear, the sumo slap (harite) is mainly a distractor, or a head turning strategy, not that it wouldn’t be a painless experience to be on the end of it.

 

 

 

Classic Japanese Martial Arts Documentary

In 1978, Budo: the Art of Killing, a documentary on Japanese martial arts was released.

 Despite it's unfortunate title, it remains a classic and may be viewed below.

Enjoy.

 

Tae Kown Do Knockouts

Deep down, who doesn't enjoy spectacular knockouts?

BJJ Solo Practice Drills

54 Solo Grappling BJJ Drills in 12 Minutes

 

Gracie's All The Way Down

At the Budo Journeyman blog, is a series of articles about martial arts dynasties. There was a recent post about the celebrated Gracie family of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu fame. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

Still looking at the three-generation rule I want to carousel through other family dynasties.

In this third piece, I will look at:

Gracie Jiu-Jitsu.

I always liked the simple historical fact that the Gracie’s originally came from Scotland. It made me think of ‘The Clans of the Highlands’, you couldn’t get more tribal than that.1

In reading around the subject (another one which I have zero practical experience of) I found myself going down a whole Brazilian rabbit hole, and really had to discipline myself to stick with the ‘three-generation rule’.

This is going to be a lightning tour and I do hope the GJJ and the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu community will forgive me.

First impressions: the Gracie family really do go for huge families (yet the ‘Mrs Gracie’s’ never seem to get a mention. They must have been heroes in themselves. Incidentally, Carlos Gracie is said to have fathered 21 children, most of them became black belts in Jiu-Jitsu; I wonder if that’s some kind of record?).

So, this leads me to the second observation; patriarchal family structures. I would posit that this particular dynamic promotes a strong brand of masculine-based family loyalty and pride, a distinct kind of energy. Possibly here we see some of the ingredients for success.

Gracie’s triumphant.

I found myself looking for some references on a kind of Gracie family business model. What did the clan get right? Before I fully get into the whole brand identity thing, let me dip into the origins story.

Early decades of the 20^th century. The Gracie family have already worked to develop an entrepreneurial spirit; but this needs a little background.

The beginnings.

It all really starts with a Brazilian chance encounter for one of the early family patriarchs, Gastão Gracie, who in 1916 went into the circus business and came across a Japanese ex-pat called Maeda Mitsuyo who used to be a rising judo star in Kano’s Kodokan from 1895 to 1904. In that same year, 1916, Maeda travel to the Americas and barnstormed his way through open fighting circuits all the way through to his arrival in Brazil. Read up on Maeda’s life; it’s a hell of a story.

 

First generation.

As I understand it, Gastão Gracie did not train under Maeda, but two of his sons did; the elder, Carlos Gracie and younger brother Helio. Both of these are generally considered as first generation of what was to become Gracie Jiu-Jitsu.

This was the founding of the generations.

The impression I get is that this form of fighting, so far removed from Japan, does not deserve the name its detractors give it, i.e. ‘Pseudo-judo’. It has Japanese origins but developed its own distinct identity that suited the environment it was later to flourish in.

Some people say that the Gracie/Maeda style came out of a Kodokan project intended to break the ground impasse; hence the emphasis on the ground game. I am not qualified to comment, but it sort of makes sense.

 

 

Less Discipline

As martial artists, we arrange our lives around discipline. 

The Art of Manliness blog as some thoughts on this. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

When it comes to keeping your New Year’s resolutions, you probably think you know the secret to success.

Whether you’ve resolved to lose weight, eat better, use your time more effectively, or even to amor fati, you’ve simply got to get more disciplined.

Right?

Certainly, discipline plays a crucial role in making any mindset or behavioral change. We’ve said as much ourselves.

But the exact nature of this need for discipline is frequently misunderstood.

When most of us think of changing our lives, we think we need to become a more disciplined person. To increase our level of discipline permanently, indefinitely.

The problems with this idea, however, are two-fold, and partly account for why so few people are able to keep their resolutions longer than a few weeks.

First, it’s incredibly difficult to permanently increase your level of discipline, which is a disposition that seems to be semi-fixed and innate. Just as our weight has a default “set point” that it wants to return to despite effort to put on or take off pounds, our discipline seems to have a set point which it wants to snap back to as well. That doesn’t mean discipline can’t be developed and enhanced in strength, it’s just an extremely arduous task in which change is measured incrementally rather than by large leaps and bounds.

Second, living a more disciplined life, forever, is an incredibly daunting prospect — both practically and psychologically.

Trying to permanently live at a higher level of discipline is like running a long-distance race of indeterminate length. When your legs ache and you feel like you can’t go on, you call out to those on the sidelines, “How much further to the finish?” To which they reply, “We don’t know. A long ways though. Just keep going.” The idea of continuing on at the same pace seems impossible, and with no end in sight, all your motivation drains away and you throw in the towel.

Catch Wrestling

 

 

Head Injuries in Martial Arts

At the Budo Journeyman, there was a very good post about head injuries in sports in general and combat sports in particular. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

There has been an ongoing discussion involving scientists, medical people and those with a vested interest in their favoured sporting activity.

The usual suspects; (sports most likely to…)

Boxing.

It might have started with boxing.

If you have any knowledge of the history of the sport at professional level you might be aware of the tragedies of the boxers Michael Watson who suffered catastrophic brain damage in 1991. Or Welsh bantamweight Johnny Owens who died from a dramatic head injury received in the ring in 1980. The debate has continued ever since.

As early as 1949 a British neurologist, Macdonald Critchley wrote a paper called, "Punch-drunk syndromes: the chronic traumatic encephalopathy of boxers", but at that time it was assumed that it was only boxers, and other sports escaped scrutiny.

Football.

Then there was the discussion around professional footballers who suffered accumulated brain damage just through heading the ball. Certainly, from the 1960’s onwards. But, back in those days, the way footballs were designed and the heavyweight leather involved, it’s not surprising. Recent research with historical elite-level players revealed a shocking statistic; that outfield players (not goalkeepers) are 50% more likely to develop dementia than a control sample.

https://www.theguardian.com/football/2023/mar/16/footballers-50-more-likely-to-develop-dementia-study-finds

Rugby.

Rugby was the next sport to be put under the microscope. The debate centred around young players, and again, headline-grabbing injuries, broken necks and lesser injuries like concussions were splashed across newspapers.

Martial Arts.

For some reason the oriental-based contact sports seemed to escape the scrutiny, despite in the UK a couple of deaths in the early days of ‘full contact’.

Top Judo Ippons of 2023

Ok, a year late.

Enjoy.

 

Bruce Lee's Training Regime

Over at The Art of Manliness blog, there was an extensive article on the techniques and philosophy of Bruce Lee's training regime. I thought it was an impressive article. 

An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

Bruce Lee is a legend.

He revolutionized movies and martial arts.

He also boasted incredible strength and all-around physicality.

Lee could place his fist one inch from the chest of a man twice his size and unleash a quick, cobra-like strike that’d send his opponent flying. 

Lee could perform push-ups using just two fingers of one hand. 

Lee wasn’t huge, but his lean, chiseled, defined physique was widely admired, and bodybuilders like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Lou Ferrigno, Flex Wheeler, Shawn Ray, and Dorian Yates all acknowledged the impact it had on their careers.

Co-star and fellow martial artist Chuck Norris described Lee’s ripped physique as “muscle upon muscle.”

A woman who asked if she could touch Bruce Lee’s flexed bicep (a common request he appreciated receiving) described it as “warm marble.”

How did Lee develop his strength and physique? Was he simply a genetic freak?

Nope. If you look at early pictures of the Little Dragon, he was a pretty scrawny guy.

Instead of genetics, Lee systematically and relentlessly built his body with physical training.

Thanks to the meticulous research of martial artist and writer John Little, we know exactly what Lee did to achieve his results. Little shares the details of Lee’s fitness training in his 1998 book Bruce Lee: The Art of Expressing the Human Body. The book is an absolute gold mine of fitness history and information, and I highly recommend picking up a copy.

In today’s article, we take a look at the principles that informed Bruce Lee’s training and the components of his regimen that turned a man into a legend.

Throughout his childhood, Lee was incredibly active. He got in trouble at school, and his spiritedness drove him to mischief and street fights. If Lee had grown up in the 21st century, he probably would have been diagnosed with ADHD. His hyperactivity inspired his family to call him “never sits still.”

To channel Lee’s energy into less destructive activities, his father signed him up for kung fu instruction under the tutelage of master Ip Man. Thus, at age thirteen, Bruce began the lifelong practice that would make him a worldwide legend.

By the time Lee was in his twenties, he had developed enough physical conditioning to excel as a martial artist, but remained a skinny guy.

Then came a moment that would take his physical training to the next level.

In the early 1960s, Lee lived in Oakland, CA, and had begun teaching kung fu. Lee didn’t discriminate in who he took on as a student, and according to some accounts, some traditional Chinese kung fu masters in the area weren’t happy with him teaching the martial art to non-Chinese. So in 1964, they presented an ultimatum to Lee: take part in a kung fu battle against their best fighter; if Lee lost, he had to shut down his kung fu class.

While different versions of exactly how the fight went down exist, according to Bruce, the fight lasted three minutes and primarily involved him chasing his opponent around a building until he forced him to submit.

Despite winning, Lee was disappointed with how he performed. He was unhappy about the shape he was in and had begun to feel that the parameters of traditional martial arts were impractical for street fights. He concluded that to realize his full physical potential and become the best martial artist in the world, he’d need to move beyond kung fu and expand his repertoire of physical modalities.

This moment of discontent not only inspired Bruce Lee to get serious about his physical fitness, but birthed a martial art and overall life philosophy he called Jeet Kune Do or the Way of the Intercepting Fist.

In moving forward from the fight, Lee sought to develop a physical training system that emphasized “practicality, flexibility, speed, and efficiency” and drew from a wide range of training methods.

While Jeet Kune Do sounds like a formal martial art style like Tae Kwon Do, Lee intended it to be “the style of no style” — a martial art that transcended formal rules and incorporated the best ideas from various disciplines.

To find these ideas, Lee became a devoted student of the art and science of physical training.

Even though Bruce had struggled in school, he had a strong commitment to continuous learning and was a voracious reader throughout his adulthood. Over his life, he amassed a huge personal library of over 2,500 titles.

He trained his mind by reading Eastern and Western philosophy (Summa Theologica by St. Thomas Aquinas; The Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi), as well as American self-help (As a Man Thinketh by James Allen; How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie).

He also religiously studied everything he could get his hands on about training the body.  

Lee thought there was something to be learned from all combatives and read books about boxing by Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis, and Rocky Marciano, texts on karate and aikido, and over sixty volumes on fencing.

In the 1960s, bodybuilding magazines were the primary sources of information on strength training, and Bruce Lee subscribed to them all. If he found an article that contained useful information, he’d clip it and put it in his filing system.

Lee also browsed used bookstores and bought copies of health and fitness books from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, including Strength and How to Obtain It by bodybuilder and strongman Eugen Sandow and The Application of Measurement to Health and Physical Education written in 1945 by H. Harrison Clarke.

Lee continued to add fitness books to his extensive library throughout his life and never let a set lens contort his reading choices; if a book or magazine had some useful info in it, he bought it and read it.

Besides magazines and books, Lee would ask his friends and students for training advice. Two men who had a huge influence on Lee’s physical education were James Yimm Lee and Allen Joe. James Lee (no relation to Bruce Lee) was an Oakland-based martial artist and weightlifter, and Allen Joe was the first Chinese-American bodybuilding champion. Both men introduced Lee to the way of the iron and helped develop his first weightlifting program.

 

Lee’s study of all aspects of physical training led him to experiment with different fitness modalities, including barbell training, isometrics, plyometrics, circuit training, running, and stretching.

His practice of these diverse modalities all had a single goal: becoming a better martial artist.

While Lee only chose exercises that would help him improve as a fighter, because martial arts require the full spectrum of physical capabilities (strength, power, speed, endurance, and flexibility), Lee systematically trained all these capabilities; he didn’t specialize.

 

What is Your Training Style

Below is an excerpt from an article that appeared at Kenshi 24/7, on different personal styles of Kendoka. The full post may be read here. 

What's your training style like?

Seito-ha (正統派)

My kendo is, I’d say, 95% bog-standard, super orthodox kendo. Sure, there are things that I do my own way, and some waza I prefer over others, but in general my kendo is basically of the margarita pizza variety: easy to prepare/make, mostly satisfying, and very little can go wrong with it (=not much to complain about). Sure, it’s ok, but not many people will travel to a pizza shop in another town just to have some.

In other words, even if you haven’t done kendo with me before you pretty much know what to expect:

Practice menu
- Lots of kihon
- Lots of kirikaeshi, uchikomi, oikomi
- Emphasis on correct execution of individual waza

Oji-waza choice
- Against men: debana men, degote, kaeshi-dou
- Against kote: kaeshi-men, aigote-men, suriage men

Jigeiko style
- Proactive “makko-shobu” style (see below)
- Fundamentally my central goal is to defeat my partner by debana-men

As you probably realise, my kendo can be kind of predictable, and isn’t flashy in the least. Maybe it’s even boring.

However, this type of “seito-ha” kendo – that is, the “orthodox style” – has an important (and highly attractive, at least to me) feature: a proactive “makko-shobu” style based on debana-men.  “Makko-shobu” (真っ向勝負) refers to a proactive, confrontational style. There is no (or we at least try to minimise it as much as possible) running way, blocking, use of the dreaded “amashi” waza, and overly flashy techniques or hikiwaza are generally de-emphasised. Debana waza (in particular: men) is where it’s at. 

 “Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.”

All the quotes in todays article are said to be from Marcus Aurelius

(I suggest re-reading the popular five-part “Pursuing the spirit and modern kendo” series, a translation of an essay by Morishima Tateo sensei)

As you already know, when two “seito-ha” kenshi face each other (assuming they are of equal skill) it can look a little bit (to the inexperienced kenshi) un-energetic or even boring I dare say. Seme is subtle and done with a combination of the spirit, kensen, and right foot, not feints, mysterious twirling of the shinai, and – of course – with shinai-to-shinai contact. The last one is extremely important, as the very conduit of communication is via this. 

Seito-ha kenshi know one another when they meet, and enjoy the battle for debana men. If they are struck, they admit defeat graciously. 

Nanken (難剣)

Like the section above, this part will be generalised… even more so because of the nature of what’s being discussed. 

 “If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment.”

Literally, nanken means “difficult sword.” This term has been used throughout the history of kendo to refer to those whose kendo was, to put it nicely, awkward. This doesn’t mean that they are weak or don’t have shiai (or grading – at least in the past) success, just that your average  “orthodox” kenshi struggles to cope with them. Perhaps their timing is different, their rhythm feels“off”,  their swing is larger or smaller than normal, they favour non-standard waza, and so on. It is almost as if they are speaking a slightly different language. Some other “features” include:

- their kendo is usually based on hitting and not being struck, so they like to evade or dodge, often bending their head or even body out of the way of attacks;

- sutemi is often lacking, which leads to hitting while standing in place (with no fumikomi);

- hitting out with their arms (zero fumikiri and often no fumikomi) then running away backwards (related to the above);

- overuse of feinting or whirling of the shinai;

- it is very common for them to just stand and wait for something to happen with no forward pressure;

- some (generally older people) fight from a very close distance;

- there is zero “aiki” so it doesn’t feel “friendly.”

(Some of these factors of-course lead to the timing being “off” as mentioned above)

Obviously, anyone who does jigeiko or shiai before acquiring a good grounding in basics will go through a sort of “nanken”phase. Only “sort of” because your average beginner will often honestly attempt to convert kihon into jigeiko use, which is very difficult even for the experienced. Usually, the less experienced will go back to kihon, work on it, then attempt to use what they have worked on in jigeiko, cycling round and round slowly getting out of the beginners phase and into a more “orthodox” style. 

However, some people never seem to get out of their “difficult” phase. Why, I am not sure. This is different from my kendo experience, so it is hard to comment on, but I’ll try anyway!

1. They believe that their kendo is effective.  By doing or acting differently you can often surprise or even deceive people in a manner that opens them up to be struck. Of course, this is perfectly “valid” in a competition and ippon may be awarded, reinforcing their tactic. This is of course absolutely fine (and to an extent is expected) in shiai for lower ages and ranks. Some, however, will persist in doing this during jigeiko (not only shiai) throughout their entire kendo career. 

2. They don’t care. This is of course connected to the above. It might also be the case that kendo is just a hobby, something they do for fun sometimes. They aren’t aiming for hachidan or anything, and have no interest in it above and beyond having fun. That’s cool too, I guess (it’s not me however).

3. They don’t practice enough and/or have no direct model. A “model” of course refers to both an instructor (physical skill) as well as a teacher (guide). Again, this is something that is difficult but not a disaster: it just takes time, travel, and extra effort to improve… assuming the desire is there.

4. Something perceptual inside them is different. This is hard to explain and I am not a scientist or anything, but some individuals seem to have a different perception of time (3D space, interval, distance, etc) than others. Of course, this is wholly in reference to myself (perhaps it is me who is “off”). This is something I’ve become acutely aware of as a teacher of high school students (and younger) for over 20 years. This is not something that can be “cured” or “fixed” rather, it has to be understood for what it is. I believe that this is probably the most influential factor in the “nanken” scenario. People like this can still have successful kendo careers despite being “out of sync” with the majority of others. 

So yeah, some people end up having non-standard “difficult” kendo. Numbers 1 and 2 above can be problematic, but the potential for change (should the person wish it) is there. Number 4, however, is different. 

“Because a thing seems difficult for you, do not think it impossible.”

 

Judo Fundamentals

A brief video on the most fundamental elements of Judo.

Catch Wrestling

 

Brazilian JiuJutsu has a solid foundation with classical Judo, but the experience of the early BJJ guys was colored by the frequent matches they had against other martial artists. Capoeira and western wrestlers, including "Catch Wrestlers."

From Wikipedia: 

Catch wrestling (originally catch-as-catch-can) is a classical hybrid grappling style and combat sport. It was popularised by wrestlers of travelling funfairs who developed their own submission holds, or "hooks", into their wrestling to increase their effectiveness against their opponents. Catch wrestling derives from various different international styles of wrestling: several English styles (primarily Lancashire,^[2] as well as Cumberland and Westmorland wrestling,^[3] Devonshire,^[3] and Irish collar-and-elbow wrestling). The training of some modern submission wrestlers, professional wrestlers and mixed martial artists is founded in catch wrestling. 

Below is a documentary on Catch Wrestling.

Tae Kwon Do Knockouts

 Enjoy:

 

A Brief History of Kodokan Judo

 The video below presents a brief history of Kodokan Judo.

Budo as Physical Education in Japanese Schools

Apparently in Japan, Physical Education in schools offers a join of some sort of Budo study (or dance, which is what the girls mostly take).

Below is an excerpt from a post that appeared at Kenshi 24/7 regarding recent proposed reforms to Budo study in schools. The full post may be read here.

 

 

The lecture that I decided to attend was entitled “Further enrichment of budo classes in school physical education” by Seki Nobuo, a senior specialist for national curriculum (P.E.) at the Japan Sports Agency.  It was given on the 5th of September 2023 at Osaka University of Education. 

An ex-high school P.E. teacher before he moved into his governmental post, Seki has had a wide experience across difference P.E. related divisions. It is important to note that he travels across the country promoting the governments sports curriculum and, also, that he is NOT a kendo person. 

Here is the English outline provided for the lecture: 

“Budo has been compulsory subject based on the policy that students exposure to the unique traditions and culture of our country and establish enrich sport life in school physical education since 2012. In the fact that about 10 years have passed since budo became compulsory and the current revision of the Courses of Study, we would like to consider issues and measures for further enhancement of martial arts classes in physical education.”

(Note that the decision to add budo into compulsory education was taken in 2008, but it took 4 years of preparation before going into effect.)

Prior to 2012 the only other time that budo has been mandatory in the education system in Japan was for boys starting in 1933/34 (girls were forced into very basic naginata training during the war).  This wasn’t as part of some sort of overall P.E. curriculum per-se, but was used to install nationalism (boys and girls) to create soldiers (boys) for/in wartime periods. This obviously stopped after the war. 

BTW, budo is not actually “compulsory” nowadays but rather, all first and second year junior high school students (approx. 12-14 year olds) have to choose between “budo” or “dance” as part of their P.E. curriculum. What budo is on offer depends on what teachers are at the school (at the moment across the entire country the rates are: 60% judo, 30% kendo, 10% others). Boys overwhelmingly choose budo, and girls dance. 

The inclusion of budo into the national curriculum only happened after years of work spearheaded by the Nippon Budokan foundation (NB) since it was formed in 1964. As such, only budo as represented by the NB can be allowed in schools, i.e. judo, kendo, kyudo, sumo, karate, aikido, shorinji-kempo, naginata, and jukendo. NB has also taken a lead in publishing teaching texts and methodology related to teaching budo in schools (and recently into exploring how to expand budo practice for special needs students).

 

Morning Training

Over the years I've tried many different home practice routines. Some years ago I came to conclusion that in order to practice at home regularly, I had to bite the bullet and get up earlier and practice before the day's events began intruding upon me.

One aikido dojo I trained at even had a 6 AM class for early risers.

Below is an excerpt from a post that appeared at Kenshi 24/7 regarding Asakeigo, or morning practice. The full post may be read here. Enjoy. 

 

A number of years ago I talked about a change in my kendo “mode” and in particular my flip-over to a sort of asageiko-main routine (despite not being a morning person). I had been an on-and-off asageiko person since about 2009-ish I guess (from about 2005 I did asageiko very occasionally, maybe once or twice a month, so that doesn’t count). By “asa” keiko I am of course referring to morning practise. Oh, and just to be clear, “morning” means keiko starting at 7am or earlier. A 9am start doesn’t qualify!

After my daughter was born in 2017 I basically stopped going to evening keiko almost entirely, just doing keiko in the morning and at work in the afternoons. 

As I mentioned in a prior post my asageiko sessions came to a screeching halt at the beginning of the pandemic as all the police dojo in Japan closed their dojo. After a year with no restart in sight I started my own morning sessions at my work dojo from about March 2021. Eventually the police dojo restarted, and I am now attending two asageiko sessions, averaging maybe 3-4 weekday mornings every week, sometimes more, sometimes less. 

My journey from a very-occasional morning keiko person, to an on-and-off one, then an asageiko-main person is complete. I still hate getting up in the mornings (especially in winter) but now even the thought of doing kendo after 6pm seems alien!

In today’s article I want to briefly give you guys a rundown on the content of my asageiko… in case anyone is interested! 

 

Conditioning and How to Develop It

Below is an excerpt from an article that appeared at The Art of Manliness on conditioning. The full post may be read here.

I’m a big fan of getting strong. 

Physical strength improves all areas of life, and hoisting heavy weights is just plain fun. At least, I think it’s fun. 

When I first embraced the gospel of the barbell with the zeal of a new convert seven years ago, I pretty much gave up on any cardio exercise, both the low-intensity and the high-intensity kind. 

I rationalized my neglect of cardio by telling myself, “It gets in the way of my gains, bruh.”

Honestly, I just didn’t like doing cardio. 

I’d never been into slow and steady exercise. Running and biking? Boring! I liked to ruck, but I tended to half-ass it. It never seemed like enough of a workout. That wasn’t rucking’s fault; it was my own. 

And high-intensity cardio, like sprints and burpees and the like, just reminded me of the unpleasant parts of playing high school football. 

I’d half-heartedly do high-intensity cardio at the end of my barbell workouts since my coach, Matt Reynolds, programmed it for me. But I always approached it as “Do it if you can get to it.” And I found myself finding reasons to skip out on these cardio sessions more often than not.

What was the result of my neglecting cardio?

A couple things. Neither of them good.

First, I got kind of chonky. Strong, but pudgy. 

Second, I started getting winded doing everyday things. Sure, I could take a long hike on a backpacking trip, but I’d need to take more breaks than I would have liked. Intense games of ultimate frisbee left me sucking wind and asking for extended timeouts to catch my breath. 

In short, I was out of shape. 

I lacked conditioning. 

During the past year, I’ve shifted my focus from just concentrating on pure strength to also investing in my conditioning. Matt has been with me 100% on this shift and has helped me stay strong as I’ve developed the other aspects of my fitness.  

The results have been stellar.

I’m trimmer and in the all-around best shape I’ve been in in a long time. And the fact that I’ve been feeling so good, has changed my feelings about cardio.

To help us unpack the wonders of conditioning and how to do it, I consulted with Nick Solyen at Barbell Logic for his insight and advice.

What Is Conditioning, Anyway? 

“Conditioning” is a word that gets thrown around a lot in the fitness world. 

If you played football, the guy in charge of the team’s athletic performance was probably called a “strength and conditioning coach.”

If you’ve done CrossFit, you may have done “metabolic conditioning,” or “met-con,” workouts. 

We all likely have a general idea of what conditioning means, that it has to do with cardiovascular fitness and that it’s training that gets you ready for some kind of event, i.e., you do gassers in basketball practice so that you won’t be gassed in a game. 

That lay understanding of conditioning is a good starting point, but there’s more to it. 

To understand conditioning, it helps to understand the body’s energy systems. We’ve discussed this in previous articles before, but it’s helpful to review. 

All cells in your body are fueled by adenosine triphosphate, or ATP. When you walk, you’re using ATP. Deadlifting? Powered by ATP. Reading this article? ATP.

 ATP can be produced in three ways:

1. Through oxygen-dependent metabolism that utilizes fatty acids (oxidization). This is how most of the ATP you use throughout the day is created. When you breathe, oxidation turns fatty acids into ATP. Oxidation creates a lot of ATP. You get a lot of bang for your buck. Oxidation occurs within your cells’ mitochondria.
2. Through non-oxygen-dependent glucose metabolism (glycolysis). If you’re doing an intense exercise like sprinting or lifting weights, your body switches from oxidizing fatty cells to produce ATP to burning glycogen/carbs to replenish ATP stores. Glycolysis produces large amounts of ATP but not as much as oxidation. Glycolysis doesn’t occur in your mitochondria but rather in your cells’ cytosol.
3. Through the recycling of previously stored ATP. When ATP transfers energy to cells, it breaks off one of its phosphates and becomes adenosine diphosphate (ADP). Creatine then comes along and says, “Hey, ADP, you can have my phosphate,” turning it back into ATP to once more be utilized as energy. Creatine supplementation can help this process.

Which system we use to generate ATP depends on the intensity of the activity we’re engaged in. 

Low-intensity activities like walking, slow jogging, and leisurely swimming primarily use fat to generate ATP. When your body is using fat for fuel, it’s called oxidation or aerobic activity since your body is using oxygen to help convert the fat to ATP.

As the intensity increases, you start using more carbohydrates. So if your slow jog turns into a speedier trot, your body starts using more carbs to generate the ATP your body needs to haul your carcass along the running trail. When your body uses carbs to create ATP, it’s called glycolysis. It’s also called anaerobic activity since it doesn’t use oxygen in the ATP creation process. 

When you do an intense activity like sprinting or a heavy set of squats, your body uses creatine phosphate to create ATP. Like glycolysis, ATP created from creatine phosphate doesn’t use oxygen. Thus, activity that uses creatine phosphate for ATP is also called anaerobic. 

When physiologists and fitness scientists talk about “conditioning,” they’re talking about your body’s ability to create energy using these aerobic and anaerobic systems. The more conditioning you have, the more efficient your body is at creating energy in a given metabolic system.

Capoeira in MMA

Capoeira is a unique martial art. MMA is probably the last place I would expect to see Capoeira.

Enjoy.

Epic Karate Knockouts

Enjoy.