The bumpy road to competition training
For many years I have trained in martial arts, across different styles and disciplines. I've always been drawn to the traditional side of things, the self defence side. Competition has never been of interest to me. Even during the short stint I had at a Kickboxing club in 2013 a small group of us would spar for the last part of the session, but I had no desire to ever compete, at any level, be it a small interclub or regional competition. The only person I've ever been in competition with has been myself. As a cyclist, my long rides have never been about speed, always about taking in the scenery and enjoying the ride. As a runner, running 10km organized runs with my wife, who has a naturally slower pace than me, I prefer to run alongside her for company than to run ahead and get a better time. When taking on the Yorkshire Three Peaks, I waited for the slower members of our group, even though that meant missing our target time of 12 hours. Even when I took part in a triathlon, I didn't care about my finish time, my only goal was to push myself to do something I had never done before. It's always about the journey, not the destination.
Now, don't take this as complacency, lack of enthusiasm, or half arsing a challenge... Anyone who has trained with me, whether in martial arts, gym, running, etc, will tell you that I put the work in. I rarely miss a session, push my boundaries and apply myself 100%, never to be better than this guy or that guy, but to be better than I was yesterday. Obviously, if I ever had to use my martial arts skills in a self defence situation, then I would want to beat THAT guy, but I'm sure you'll all get what I mean when I say that for me, I didn't learn martial arts to fight, I learned martial arts NOT to fight. Martial arts has always been about self discipline, overcoming personal challenges, never about competition. Until late last year, when I was presented with an opportunity ...
I was on a Close Quarter Combat course run by the British Combat Association. I have a customer called Brian G, who is a fellow Karateka, who was also on the course, and we buddied up for the day. A few weeks after, Brian told me that a club that he knew of in Wakefield was organising a tournament at the same venue, and asked if I might be interested in competing. At first I was dismissive, as this isn't the style of martial arts I was practiced in, and at 47 years old, it was a bit late in the day to start thinking about competitive fighting. However, after some consideration, and listening to my inner mantra of 'You only regret the things you DIDN'T do" I decided to give it a go. If I didn't do it now, I never would, and what did I have to lose? In October, I messaged Brian and said "Sign me up!"
I train at Shelf Karate Academy in West Yorkshire, and we have traditional, self defence based syllabus, which isn't well suited to points fighting. We learn katas, we dissect the katas, we extract the practical applications from the katas, we drill those applications with compliance, then we pressure test the applications on the mats. Our katas have to be practical, not pretty. And as we know what applications we are drilling on each night we train, we don't do much free sparring. Around this time, we had some big gradings coming up, including first and second dan black belt gradings, so there was a lot of focus on preparing these guys for grading. I couldn't expect the club to change the syllabus to suit me, so I needed to seek out some alternative sources of training.
Some months before this, I'd met Mark 'Spen' Spencer, a martial arts coach with a very well rounded background in Kudo, Kickboxing and BJJ. Spen is the man behind Fulinkazan fight team, SBG Bradford, and Yorkshire Kudo. Spen had run a Kudo taster seminar at our Dojo, and we'd kept in touch on Instagram since. I knew that Spen ran a kickboxing sparring session on a Tuesday night at Fulinkazan. I dropped Spen a message and explained that I was entering a tournament, and needed some practice in free sparring. Although the class is a Kickboxing class, it's attendees are diverse in their combative backgrounds. Among those that train there, there are boxers, kickboxers, MMA fighters, Karatekas, Taekwondo guys and Kudo competitors. The result is a maelstrom of different styles all in one melting pot. When you're sparring, and you switch partners, you just never know what you're going to get! This was possibly the best environment in which I could sharpen my reflexes, and develop my traditional karate skills into more of a match fighting style.
I turned up to Fulinkazan mid-December, with a pair of old boxing gloves, shin guards, gum shield and a stomach full of butterflies. Everyone was nice, made me feel welcome, and soon set my nervousness at ease. However, after some pad work drills, it was time to pitch my limited sparring skills against some really good fighters. Although there are definitely some transferable skills, I soon realised that there was a massive chasm between the skillset I had, and the very different skillset I needed if I was to fight in a Karate tournament. I would need a different stance, different guard position, I'd have to move differently, block differently, have eyes on all my opponent's limbs at once, and increase my stamina. I had my work cut out. I had two sessions before Christmas, and I used these two sessions as a self diagnostic test, to figure out what I needed to change, and used the Christmas week off to think about how to implement those changes. I wasn't aware, at his stage, what the ruleset for the tournament was going to be...
I'd like to point out, at this stage, that I am still a Karate guy. I'm not trying to be a Kickboxer. I didn't have either the time or the inclination to learn a new form of Sport Karate, geared towards match fighting. In my mind, the best way for me to develop my footwork, control of space, handspeed, reflexes, fight IQ, etc, was to jump in at the deep end with a bunch of kickboxers who are really good at match fighting.
Karate is learned and honed though repetition. We drill each technique over, and over, until it becomes a natural response. Conditioning of the mind and muscle memory as one. To try and un-learn traditional Karate techniques and replace them with a new set of techniques is difficult at the best of times, but in my case, I didn't want to un-learn seven years of Karate. In fact, I was still training in traditional Karate twice a week as well as kickboxing. At first, I was trying to create a partition in that part of my brain, to keep the two disciplines compartmentalised. However, the more I trained in both styles, the more I saw similarities, and crossover skills that I could carry across from one style to the other. I began to see Karate with a new set of eyes, and what were once two parallel lines, destined never to meet, slowly started to merge.
In order to instill good fighting habits, Coach Spen was on me; Keep your guard up, keep your chin tucked, use your jab, keep moving, guard up, don't reach down to block kicks, check them. Guard up, keep that chin tucked. Guard up, keep moving, don't forget about body shots, move, move, move, GUARD UP, KEEP THAT CHIN TUCKED.
This was EXACTLY what I needed. But no sooner had coach set me straight, he had to move onto the next person, to offer guidance to them. And without that constant pressure, I soon slipped back into old ways. Coach Spen gave me as much of his attention as he could, but it's a busy club, and his time has to be shared among the whole class. I decided I needed a few one-to-one coaching sessions.
Another of my clients is an MMA fighter. His name is Raushan Sandhu. He's doing very well on the amateur circuit, and he's certainly one to watch. Raushan was giving up work to train full time, and was offering one-to-one coaching sessions to help fund his training. I booked in some sessions, and we got to work. Raushan isn't a Karate teacher, but has a wealth of knowledge on fight IQ. We built on Spen's coaching, guard up, chin tucked, don't cross your feet, as well as working combos on the pads. We worked on checking low leg kicks, controlling the space, throwing feints, hooks, uppercuts, teep kicks, duck & roll, slipping the jab, GUARD UP. KEEP YOUR CHIN TUCKED!! Having Raushan constantly applying pressure worked wonders, and I was starting to form new habits. What Raushan taught me on a Monday I would put into play when sparring at Fulinkazan on a Tuesday, and I'd see how that could be applied to Karate on Thursday. It was all coming together.
In early February I was sparring with a lad called Joe. Our stances were mirrored, we were just out of jabbing range, and as Joe looked like he was ready to step in with a jab, I thought I'd keep him at bay with a short, snappy front kick to the body. Joe was actually shifting his weight to his front foot to throw a teep kick off his back leg. I heard a crunch as my toes collided with Joe's shin guard. Joe heard it too, and immediately stopped to ask if I was okay. Adrenaline in my veins, I didn't feel any pain, so we carried on sparring. It was only at the end of the session, when my adrenaline had subsided, and I was trying to put my trainers on, that I realized I'd broken my toe. With the tournament less than two months away, and with a lot of training still to go, it wasn't good.
I took a week off training, kept my toe strapped to it's neighbour, and tried to rest it as best I could. I was very aware that I didn't have much time to get ready for the tournament. I was back training after a week off, but with a strapped up toe. I could feel myself getting better at sparring, I was much more relaxed, meaning my technique was snappier, and less telegraphed, my stamina levels were improving, my guard was up, my chin was tucked, I just could not kick with my left leg.
About a month before the tournament, Raushan asked me if I knew what the ruleset would be. I didn't know. I'd been busy learning to duck and parry and slip and counter and move off after striking and checking kicks and throwing combos that I'd not thought about what would or wouldn't be allowed on the day. I sent a message to Brian and asked if he knew what rules we would be competing under. I got a message back saying we were to be using the WKF (World Karate Federation) ruleset, and a link to a video explaining the rules. Brian also explained that, in true Karate style, there would be a Kata section to the tournament. Each competitor would have to perform 2 Katas, being scored on their delivery and execution. As I said before, we don't place a lot of emphasis on our Katas looking pretty. I had a month to make them look pretty!
It was around this time that I received a message from Tony. Tony also trains at Shelf Karate Academy and is a 1st Kyu. He and his girlfriend had a baby last year, and Tony's training had, understandably, been on and off since. Tony had heard that I was entering a tournament and was interested in signing up. I sent Tony the details, what the format was, the WKF rules, and asked Brian to put his name on the list. This was the last I heard from Tony on the run up to the tournament.
The rules used by the WKF are quite unique. No lower leg kicks allowed, but you can kick to the head. No hooks or uppercuts, but backfists are allowed. Leg sweeps are allowed, but don't score points, they're just a set up for a follow up strike. Once a strike is landed, a point is scored, you break, re-set and start again, so combos are pointless. And if you're going in for a big hit, and your opponent catches you first, with even a light, glancing blow, they get the point, you don't. I watched some WKF fights on YouTube, and the idea seemed to be, bounce on the balls of your feet, just out of range, make small subtle shifts, see an opportunity to strike, move in and strike your opponent with viper-like speed and accuracy, and move back out before they even see you coming. Receive a point, break, re-set and go back to bouncing on the balls of your feet.
It wasn't the ruleset I had trained for, I'd been hoping for a more 'Karate Combat' set of rules. I messaged Raushan and told him we needed to change tactics. I had two personal training sessions left before the tournament. Raushan also studied some WKF fights and put together a session for the following Monday. We trained in a much more WKF friendly style, we left out lower leg kicks, uppercuts and combos. We focused on using a more 'side on' stance, staying light on the balls of my feet, shooting in to land a strike, and moving back out of range. We replaced hooks with backfists, and used more teep kicks. Only off the right leg though, my toe wasn't healing and was still causing me a lot of pain. I filmed the session on my tablet for analysis.
That evening I played back the session, and was dismayed with what I saw. I wasn't light on my feet, I was clumsy. I didn't move in with viper-like speed, I was slow and awkward. My guard was getting lower by the minute, my chin was up, and exposed. I was crossing my feet when circling, and my reactions weren't sharp enough to see incoming blows. The reason? I was gassing out. Trying to fight in this style, constantly on my toes, chasing my opponent, buzzing around the mat like a moth around a lampshade, had sapped all my energy. I was exhausted, and it showed.
I could not fight like this. I didn't WANT to fight like this. It would take months of re-training, double the cardio, and a stone in weight loss. At 47 years old, this wasn't happening. I didn't relish the thought of competing in the Kata section either. I was ready to pull out of the tournament. I couldn't win a bout fighting like this, but more than that, I wouldn't enjoy fighting like this. And if I wasn't going to enjoy it, what was the point?
The next day I was training at Fulinkazan. I was trying not to think about the tournament. Trying not to think about yesterday's coaching. I was just trying to enjoy my session, and take it for what it was - a kickboxing class. During the sparring rounds, I didn't overthink what I was doing. I wasn't thinking about whether what I was doing was technically Karate, or Kickboxing, or if it was conducive to a WKF style Karate tournament. I just sparred intuitively. Whichever strike, whichever block, whichever evasive movement, whichever counter came naturally, I just did it. And it worked, and I enjoyed it. Right then I made the decision to go ahead with the tournament, but fighting in my own Karate/Kickboxing fusion that I'd developed over the previous 3 months. As long as I followed the rules, and didn't throw in any illegal moves, then I could fight in my own style. If I lost, I lost, but at least I would enjoy the tournament. As long as I knew that I'd given it my best shot, and put up a good fight, I would be happy with that. I had one PT session left, so I messaged Raushan and told him that I wanted to go back to how we were training originally, and my reasons why. He agreed with me completely. And with the Karate club gradings out of the way, I messaged Sensei Charley Walker and asked him if we could set aside some time to brush up on the finer points of my chosen Katas, and maybe a few rounds of open sparring for good measure. I was feeling really positive.
The week leading up to the tournament and my broken toe still hadn't healed. I did some research online and I think I'd shattered the toe knuckle. As the bones have set, the fragments have fused, so now my toe, the one next to my big toe, is thicker and shorter than it should be, sits at a funny angle, and doesn't bend in the middle. Even as I write this, it is still painful. I knew I still wouldn't be able to throw kicks off of my left leg, but I wasn't letting that stop me. I was going to compete, and I was going to enjoy it. I had my final PT session, one Kickboxing session and two Karate sessions, a rest day on Saturday, and the tournament on Sunday. The PT session was the best one I'd had. At Fulinkazan, Coach Spen had tailored some of the class to simulate competition rules, which was a really nice touch, I'll always be grateful for that. At Karate on Thursday, Senseis Charley and Robert helped me refine my katas. On Friday, we ran through the final tweaks on my katas, then had some sparring rounds, loosely based on WKF rules. Everything was going swimmingly, I was feeling fighting fit, until the last round of sparring, when I went to block a front kick with open palms, and sprained my ring finger on my right hand. I went home and put it on ice. I wouldn't know the full extent of the damage until the morning.
When I woke up the following morning, the ring I normally wear on that finger wouldn't pass the knuckle. My finger was swollen and had taken on a purple-ish tinge. It wasn't overly painful, but I couldn't make a fist. How was I meant to fight if I couldn't make a fist? I remembered when I was a teenager and sprained my ankle badly whilst skateboarding, the physiotherapist at the hospital had got me to put my ankle in iced water, then hot water, then ice, then hot, to get the swelling down. I jumped out of bed, swallowed a couple in Ibuprofen, and got the ice from the freezer. I did this routine a few times during the Saturday, and whilst drying my hand, I found that if I squeezed the towel, then released, squeezed, released, I could close my fist a little tighter each time. I did plenty of this, until I could fully make a fist. My only concern now was if I blocked another kick with an open hand, injured it further, would I be able to carry on the fight? I decided that if I taped this finger to the next, same as my healing toe, I should be good. I ran through my Katas a few times and got some rest. Big day tomorrow...
On the morning of the tournament, I was getting myself ready, packing my bag, running through my Katas, and I got a message from Tony. "Are we still on for today mate?" I thought Tony had changed his mind, but no, he was still coming. This was a big boost for my me. My staunchly supportive wife, who was currently in the kitchen making us a pack up, was coming along to cheer me on, but to have someone from my club there to compete alongside me made me feel much more at ease. We made Tony a pack up too, and we went to pick him up en-route to the British Combat Association dojo.
When we got there, we were greeted by Sensei Peter Consterdine, Phil from West Yorkshire Shotokan Karate Association, as well as Brian G. It was nice to see some more familiar faces. As other competitors started to arrive, I loved the energy, a Dojo full of Karateka of all ages, sizes and abilities, all come together for this tournament. It wasn't the World Championships, it was only a small, interclub tournament, and there were only thirty odd competitors, so maybe I had built this up a little too much in my mind. Maybe joining a kickboxing club was unnecessary. Maybe having personal training sessions was overkill. But this just serves to reinforce what I was saying at the beginning of this post, and that is that I always push my boundaries and apply myself 100%. If I've trained four months for one 3 minute round, then so be it. After all, for me, it's about the journey, not about the destination. At 11am, the tournament was about to start. We were sorted into four classes; junior Kyu gardes, junior Dan grades, adult Kyu grades and adult Dan grades. I was in the latter.
First up was the Kata competition. I had chosen and rehearsed two traditional Shotokan Katas, Tekki (Niahanchi) Nidan and Bassai Dai. The scoring was done by three judges, watching from three separate corners of the mat. Scores were given as Mark's out of 10, with increments of 10, i.e. 6.2 or 7.9. The three individual scores were added up to give a total score out of 30. It reminded me of the judging on Dancing On Ice! Watching the other competitors before me, I saw that the standards were high. The lowest individual scores were about 5.5/10 and the highest were around 8.2/10. I told myself that if I got a total score of 20/30 then I'd be happy with that. I got 20.9 for my first Kata, and 21.5 for my second Kata. I was happy.
Next up was the kumite competition. Names were put into a hat, and competitors drawn. We were each meant to have two initial fights, then the winners on to a further round, and so on until semi finals, then a final fight to decide the overall winner. My first opponent was drawn, another Phil, a very good Karateka who runs a club in Rothwell, and experienced in this style of competition fighting. Phil is tall, flexible, accurate and fast. I had seen the evidence of this when he had won the Kata section hands down, taking a gold medal. 4 months ago I would have been terrified about going up against this guy, but I knew I had trained hard, and was as prepared as I could be. I believe a certain amount of nervousness is a good thing, and I let that wash over me as I waited to hear my name called.
For those unfamiliar with the WKF rules, each bout is 3 minutes, and the winner is the one to score the most points for strikes landed. The bout is concluded early if one competitor reaches a 5 point lead, in which case he or she is declared the winner.
Phil was a tough competitor, very focused, fast and accurate with his strikes. I was on the defense from the word Hajime! I managed to block a number of punches and kicks, but despite my best efforts,Phil did manage to land a couple, and score a couple of points. None of my strikes had landed yet and I was determined to not leave this bout with zero points. I had to become more offensive. We continued to exchange blows, landing a couple each, and seeing my score card go from 0 to 1 to 2 was a great feeling. A couple of minutes in and Phil had gained 6-2 lead. Could I land another to stop him getting a 5 point lead? I saw an opening to throw a front kick to Phil's stomach, but still daren't kick off my front leg. Instead I threw from my back leg, and Phil saw it coming. He caught my foot before it connected, and as I turned to break free, Phil tagged me with a punch to the kidneys. Match over, Phil had won. There was no sadness in defeat. No shame, no disappointment, in fact, it didn't feel like defeat at all. I felt like I'd done what I set out to do... Fight in a tournament. I was happy with my performance, I'd enjoyed myself, and I had the taste of competitive fighting. And, I still had a fight to go. I decided I was going to use my left foot in the next bout. If it hurt, it hurt, I was ready to go out with a bang.
Phil went from strength to strength, winning the next couple of rounds. I was informed that two of the competitors had had to leave, as it was getting late in the day, including my would-be opponent. So, sadly, I didn't end up having a second fight. I stood in the wings and watched the quarter, semi, and finals with the other competitors, and saw Phil trounce his opponents and take another gold medal. I literally couldn't have lost to a better man.
I realise, as I write this, that some of you will think this story has a bit of an anticlimactic ending, but as I said earlier, it's about the journey, not the destination. And it had been an awesome journey. If I had not taken the opportunity, I would have never gone to Fulinkazan and trained with the awesome guys and girls there, and I continue to enjoy training with them still. I would have not got to train at the prestigious IMA martial arts club, or had one-to-one coaching from an up and coming MMA fighter. I'd have never met the other competitors, who I know I'll see again at future events. I'd have never stood against another Karateka in a competition with a (small) crowd around us, cheering us on. I'd would never have seen competitive sport Karate the way I see it now. I would never have the taste of competing, which has left me wanting to compete again in local tournaments. And I would not have a broken toe, thicker and shorter than it should be!
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