Saturday, May 02, 2020 by C. Michial Jones
In the spring of 2006, while attending the Police Academy, I was introduced to a martial art that would eventually challenge my body and my ego in ways my decades of Karate never had: Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ).
Having started Judo and Japanese Jujutsu in 1980, the techniques felt familiar, but the emphasis was entirely different. At the time, Gracie Jiu-Jitsu was sweeping through law enforcement. It was the “new frontier” of defensive tactics. I dove in, attending several Gracie Law Enforcement courses and earning certifications in programs like G.R.A.C.I.E. and G.R.A.P.P.L.E. I even passed my Blue Belt test, but life as a Deputy Police Chief and a Dojo Cho had other plans.
The Gap in the Mats
Back in Indiana, qualified instruction was scarce. I integrated the 36 core techniques into my Karate program, but the dream of a BJJ Black Belt faded into the background. My job demanded my time, and my body was already “saddled” with the heavy mileage of Goju-Ryu and Uechi-Ryu. For years, I was content to let BJJ remain a “memory” we drilled occasionally in Karate class.
Then came 2020. While the world slowed down for COVID-19, a new door opened. My “Karate Brother,” John Manley, had been training BJJ for years and began teaching in Noblesville. Despite the decades of rank I held in other systems, I decided it was time to step back onto the mat as a student.
The Struggle of the “Old Guard”
The transition has been a lesson in humility. On Sundays, my son Curtis and I make the trip to train. While the mental “map” of the techniques is still there, my body—tempered by 43 years of vertical, rooted Karate—often protests the horizontal, fluid demands of the ground.
The challenges are real:
- The Acclimation Gap: Training four times a month is a difficult pace for a body with nearly half a century of “standing” muscle memory. The recovery time for a 47 year old is significantly longer than that of the young athletes in the room.
- The “Stiff” Habit: In Goju-Ryu, we are taught to be an immovable object. In BJJ, if you are immovable, you are a lever. Learning to be “liquid” on the ground is a psychological battle as much as a physical one.
- The Comparison: Watching my son Curtis excel—benefiting from youth and a quicker recovery time—is a proud moment for a father, but a humbling one for a teacher.
Why We Roll
I am sure John, a strict taskmaster, sometimes thinks I am a “hopeless” case as my body struggles to execute the moves he demonstrates. But there is a profound value in being the “worst” person in the room.
For those of us who have spent our lives at the front of the class, being back at the end of the line—struggling, sweating, and tapping out—is essential. It keeps us tethered to the reality of the student’s struggle. It ensures that our “Traditional” arts don’t become stagnant or delusional.
Conclusion
I may not be moving at the pace I’d like, and my progress may feel slow, but I am still on the mat. Whether or not I ever reach that distant goal of a Black Belt in this system is secondary. The real victory is found in the Sunday morning drive to Noblesville, the shared sweat with my son, and the willingness to remain a “White Belt” in spirit, even after a lifetime in the arts.
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