It’s all about the image. But that’s a dangerous way to think.
I first made this mistake when given a choice between skiing and snowboarding.
“Snowboarding!” I thundered, as well-wishers begged me to start off with the more gentle and forgiving art of skiing, where injuries are considerably less painful. I refused to listen. In my mind, snowboarders surfed over ice and powder with elegant flicks of the waist and sauntered around the trail with boards tucked under their arms, while the skiers slipped like cows with their extra new limbs and constantly ended up in graceless splits mid-route.
After a chipped tooth, some strained ligaments, two dozen nasty falls and flips, a mild concussion and a back ache that’s still lingering as I write this article, I learned that it’s better to pick a sport based on your physical ability rather than the image associated with it.
I promptly forgot this lesson three months later when it came down to choosing a sports class for the new academic semester. The choices open to me were Fitness, Aerobics, Yoga and Wrestling.
I think you can guess how this went down.
“Oh, I do some wrestling in my spare time,” I imagined myself telling stunned acquaintances in a tone of utter nonchalance. Maybe flex my muscled arm a bit as I boast, or give an enigmatic smile that says, ‘what do you freeloaders do, huh?’.
Jokes aside, I had a deeper reason. After the 2016 release and international success of ‘Dangal’, an Indian Bollywood sports movie about that shows the life story of two sisters who worked their way up from mud wrestling in their village to international tournaments under their father’s brutal training, despite the lack of support from a misogynistic and cricket obsessed society, you could say that I was well and truly inspired.
Here’s the trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_7YlGv9u1g
(Not to mention, the college wrestling class was 100% attendance and effort and there was nothing mentioned about a test or reports, so I signed in.)
And on that bright blue, red and yellow wrestling pad, my former misconceptions and utter arrogance was flung to the floor and rolled over and crushed until there was nothing left.
First of all, speaking as an average sized individual on a vegetarian diet who’s able to exert herself every now and then when something truly terrible is about to happen (“The Taiyaki store is closing for the night! Run for the last piece!!”) I found out that I was painfully unprepared for a basic wrestling class, not to mention completely protein deficient. A diet change was necessary and after visiting the nutritionist, I found myself struggling to chew Japanese style cereal mix that turns the rice a terrifying shade of purple, and wincing as I ate more eggs in a week than I used to in a month.
Next…the running. I thought I was fit, really, but intense bursts of exertion don’t hold up to extended intervals of moderate exercise and while I can destroy punching bags and lash out with kicks that can knock people over, jogging for a straight six minutes left me whistling each time I took a breath. And let’s not even talk about my efforts to jump rope for five minutes. All I’ll say is that every time I need a break to catch my breath, my shoelaces mysteriously come undone. Most unnatural.
The team exercises were slightly better and I realized there that my only saving grace is that after two years of sleeping on a thin futon spread out on the wooden floor, I have a decent amount of flexibility that lets me regain some dignity through the stretching session.
Then, we came down to actual wrestling.
I expected a lot of things to be honest. Tension. Injuries. Shouted commands. Berating. And I was ready for it all. I wore contacts so as to not get my glasses smashed into my face and heavy sports pants to protect my knees from possible dislocation.
However, our teacher, an ever smiling wrestler of international acclaim, insisted on gradual progress and introducing the sport to us as a game instead of an actual fight. I also had a book ready to note down different grapples and locks and throws, but we were simply handed velcro ribbons to tie around our ankles, before being assigned to a partner and given a one minute long task: Grab your partner’s ribbons and protect your own. And try not to injure each other.
”Yoroshiku Onegaishimasu,” I managed to get out to my partner. The phrase changes meanings based on context, ranging from ‘pleasure to meet you’ to ‘please be good to me’. In that moment, I meant something along the lines of ‘please don’t kill me’. Feeling awkward and clumsy, I lowered myself down into that one crouching bear stance, the thing I’d seen in countless movies and WWF video grabs, my only point of reference, and waited with every muscle rigid.
The whistle rang and my opponent dove for my legs.
Something happened then. Theory and logical thought went out the window and something more primal took over as I dropped to the floor, rolled, and then shot back up to my feet, successfully shielding myself with a move I hadn’t even realized I possessed in my repertoire. It was an indescribable feeling and in that moment, I felt more connected than I ever had to a younger version of me, a more active and considerably healthier self who executed headstands and somersaults and ran through foliage filled summer afternoons and cannonballed into freezing cold pools and had to be begged to sit still. It was a jarring return back to the time just before academia took over and made me into something unnatural that was loathe to leave the chair and winced at people who did strange Yoga contortions and wanted to constantly run to the gym and work off their excess energy.
What have I done to myself? I wondered then.
My very own Bollywood style revelation ended there. Four seconds later, I was sprawled on the ground and my victorious opponent was handing me my own ribbons with an apologetic look.
In the next round, I was as terrible as before but managed to imitate the move that had brought me down the first time, and captured one single ribbon. However, two seconds later, I had lost both of mine but learned yet another manoeuvre.
By the end of the class every part of my body throbbed, I was drenched in perspiration, I’d nearly dislocated a knee yet again, there were scratches on my upper arm, my clothes were chafing against my raw skin and yet, I was grinning as I dodged, rolled and leaped.
Three weeks later, I think it’s safe to say that my life has changed. No, I definitely won’t be representing my country in the Olympics in this lifetime or the next, but I’ve learned how to get back up on my feet every time after being subject to a number of formidable throws, some of which include having your opponent pin you to the ground by falling on top of you or flipping you over by using your own leg. There’s more protein in my diet and I’ve become a little more conscious about the food I eat as well as how hydrated I am. Since the wrestling class is in full Japanese, I’m able to get in a decent amount of linguistic practice as well. And finally, I actually go running of my own free will!
On a serious note, the self defence potential in wrestling is huge and far more than that of many other martial arts, in my opinion, as wrestling forces you to get over the discomfort that comes with close physical contact and trains you to take down another person without holding back or without being overly dependent on the comforting distance offered by weapons or long kicks.
I’ve drastically upped my home supply of antiseptic cream and muscle bandages and there are days when I end up limping to class, but it was exciting to challenge myself with first-hand experience of a sport I’ve always been intrigued by, instead of just admiring it from afar. After so many life-changing developments in just three weeks, I’m looking forward to seeing where I stand (if I’m left standing) in another few months or so.
My takeaway from this? When you get the chance to put yourself out there and do something that’s not quite ‘you’ or even remotely reasonable by any stretch of the imagination, take it. Worst case scenario? You’ll have a twisted story to amuse others with.
But if all goes well, you might just end up changing the course of your own life.
Photo Credits:
MAZA FIGHT http://www.flickr.com/photos/123913273@N06/33396635044″>8Y9A2581 via http://photopin.com”>photopin https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)
morten f http://www.flickr.com/photos/23713973@N06/33526796081″>Jagged Vision via http://photopin.com”>photopin https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>(license)
jrsachs http://www.flickr.com/photos/59597344@N04/13514477225″>2013 World Cup India vs Turkey via http://photopin.com”>photopin https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>(license)