A Mesmerized Mom Jumps Into the Act

Am I nuts?

I ask myself this question, but only in jest. And only on Wednesday mornings when my body seems to hurt the most.

My karate class is Tuesday night: 90 minutes of takedowns, jujitsu, fighting, forms, preceded by a warm-up of stretches, pushups, crunches, jumping jacks, kicking drills and other assorted forms of torture.

On Wednesday mornings when I wake up, my neck is stiff, my stomach is sore, and my arms and shins are often black and blue. On at least two occasions, I’ve had a shiner.

And I love it.

Gail Sheehy, in “New Passages” (Random House, 1995), writes that a woman’s stage of life after 45 is inspiring “more women to soar into the unknown,” scoffing at the idea that “losing their youthful looks” means “losing their power. On the contrary!”

Right you are, Gail. Every time I take down one of the men in my class, I can feel the testosterone surging through my body!

There is something exhilarating about learning to do something you never in a million years thought you could do. And for goal-oriented, Type-A personalities like me, the martial arts--with its belt rankings--provides the perfect stepladder of achievement.

I blame my 8-year-old daughter, Barra, for this. Two years ago, she decided she wanted to learn karate. She begged me to enroll her. So I signed her up in Ken Krulik’s class (see main story).

For the first few weeks, I was one of those parent watchers. I was fascinated by the skill of the children (not to mention Ken) and impressed with the discipline, the control and the mutual respect that seemed to flow.

I also became mesmerized by the grace and flow and beauty of the kata (forms) that simulate combat, and by jujitsu techniques that could enable a small child to send a 200-pound man to his knees with a simple, perfectly executed wrist lock.

And I loved watching the fighting--the power and control of the free and one-step sparring. I’ve always believed in nonviolent solutions, so this may seem contradictory. But my school requires no contact--a policy that forces you to learn self-control and ensures a high degree of respect between opponents. I like that.

I signed up, thinking I’d try it for a few weeks. That was more than two years--and half a dozen belts--ago.

Today I am a blue belt. This is just below brown, which is just below black (although there are several degrees each in brown and black).

Make no mistake about it, though: It has been a real challenge.

I took up running more than 15 years ago and have run nine marathons. Running definitely expands your horizons, but destroys your flexibility. I have none.

This does not bode well for success in the martial arts. I am un-gazelle-like in my forms, and I can’t kick very high. I pray, if I ever have to face a real opponent, that he has fragile knees--because that’s about as high as I can kick. One form I’m now learning requires a crescent kick with the right leg to slap the left hand, which is outstretched in a pierce at chest height. I simply cannot do it.

On the other hand, jujitsu may be my thing.

It does not require the kind of grace necessary to perform a perfect form. Power is more important here. I yell loud, and I am ferocious and aggressive. Recently, in an intramural tournament, I scored second place--and a trophy--in my belt division in jujitsu. The euphoria of this accomplishment was second only to that of finishing my first marathon.

My biggest regret is that I started this in my late 40s. I envy Barra. She has athletic opportunities I never had as a child. When I was growing up, girls didn’t do sports. Paradoxically, Barra quit karate this spring. She decided she would rather concentrate on soccer and baseball. It saddened me, but I didn’t push it. When it comes to sports, I subscribe to a “no-pressure” philosophy with my children. If it’s not fun, they don’t have to do it.

I don’t know about a black belt, but I’d sure like to make it to brown someday. I don’t know when that’s going to be. I go to class only one night a week, not nearly enough at my belt level to advance very quickly. If I ever faced the threat of a real attacker, I don’t know that I could successfully defend myself.

I’m a long way from being proficient. These skills must become second nature to work.

But that’s not why I do it.

I do it because it’s a good workout that is different from running and provides a new challenge for my body.

I do it because I like setting goals, and each new belt level serves as a brand new goal.

I do it because, to echo Sheehy, it is empowering and liberating.

But mostly I do it because it’s fun.