Ron Goin's Blog

HORDES OF NINJA“Ninjas don't wish upon a star, they throw them.” Jarius Raphel

I see him almost everyday.  He's waiting to catch the school bus, standing near the corner not far from the Waffle House.  He's probably, what, 7 or 8 years old?  Reminds me of me at that age.  Just a little chunky.  As mine did for me, his Mom probably buys his blue jeans in 'husky' size.  

He is totally oblivious to the world around him.  Cars and trucks whiz past him, only feet from the curb where he stands.  The bus won't be here for another couple of minutes.  No worries.  He has all the time he needs.

This is war, all-out chaos.  The hordes of ninjas offer no respite.  No quarter is asked, none is given.

They always come at him the same way.  First with stealth, hiding behind trees, standing behind a telephone pole, or squatting in the shadows of a mail box.  They creep up, real quiet like.  They're good at their job.  They get maybe 3 or 4 feet away before he becomes aware of their presence.  Usually it's the slight whirring sound of a shuriken.  Okay, maybe it's luck, perhaps it's just battle-hardened instinct honed from the daily stress of war, but his lunch box saves him and catches the spinning blade of death.

The realization that he has had a close brush with death awakens his fighting instinct, and he springs into frenzied action.  

He is a blur.  His lethal hands and deadly feet move at blinding speed.  The first 3 attackers fall quickly, but there are more...there are always more.  Move! his brain commands, and move he does!  He leaps, he turns, he twists, slips, ducks and spins.

By now the ground is littered with their bodies, the sidewalk is slick with their blood.  He must move carefully now.  They never send in the best fighters first.  These are mere cannon fodder, sent in to weaken him for the true terror that is to come. 

But from which direction will the real danger arrive?  He looks around, but the shadows are deceptive.  He is tired from the combat, and he could easily succumb to panic at this point.  The body count is impressive for one so young, but the fear he has held at bay desperately wants to be set free.

Like a zen master he calms himself.  Becomes still.  Takes a deep breath and...get this...actually closes his eyes and gathers his energy in what can only be described as quiet meditation.  He is unexpectedly tranquil, like the calm eye in the middle of a chaotic hurricane.

Suddenly, and without telegraphing his movements, he engages the final elite squad.  These are seasoned pros he realizes quickly, and his actions up to now must shift to overdrive if he expects to live to see another sunset.

He leaps the bench and darts around the fire hydrant with a grace that dancers only dream of.  The power of his blows is tangible, and many of the attackers go down with only one strike...a shuto to the temple, a spinning heel kick to the wind pipe.  

This is no game.  They all fall before him.

Finally the head ninja, maybe the sensei of the others, and obviously a skilled and respected veteran, does not bother to hide.  He is immense.  The boy steps back and has to look up to see into the dull, lifeless, shark-like eyes.  The boy is scared.  But he does not run.  

He takes another step back and another, and turns to get on the bus.

As he takes his seat he looks out the window.  In his hand he holds the shuriken he has removed from his lunch box.  He brings it up, defiantly waves it in the beast's face, and grins.  He continues to watch as the bus pulls away, the giant warrior diminishing, fading from sight.

His day will be long and full of other challenges.  He must regain his strength and rest tonight.

For tomorrow they will gather, and they will not be satisfied until he is vanquished.  

   

IN THE AIR TONIGHT

 One day, way back in 1987, I was walking through a local restaurant in Madison, Tennessee, a suburb of Nashville, when I recognized martial arts legend Leo Gaje sitting at a table eating breakfast.  I stopped at his table, paid my respect, and he graciously asked me to join him.  He told me that he and his family had recently moved to town, and after a brief conversation he asked if I would like to drop by his house sometime for a little one-on-one training.  

A few days later I took him up on his offer.  He was so generous, showing me all kinds of incredible techniques, both with a stick and a knife.  He also had an empty-hand component to his system which was very effective.

In one of the training sessions he took me out to his backyard and handed me a thick stick made out of durable hard wood.  He instructed me to hit a tree with forehands and backhands, essentially just big figure 8's.  

"How many times?" I asked.  
"100 repetitions," he answered, adding "and be sure to hit it hard each time."  

"What do I do when I've finished 100 reps?" I asked.  
"Switch to your left hand," he replied.  
"And after that?"  
"Switch back to your right hand.  I'll be back to check on you in awhile."

About an hour later he did check back.  I think he was surprised that I was still going at it.  My arms and shoulders were exhausted, and my hands already had blisters.  If I thought it was over, I was mistaken, because now he wanted me to continue hitting the tree but with different combinations.  It was tough, but it was great training.  It also explained why he was able to hit so durn hard!

In too many of the classes and seminars I've attended over the years, we've mostly just hit the air.  Punching and kicking the air over and over, just snapping our techniques out towards imaginary opponents.  

I usually didn't like that approach.

My best teachers always made sure we hit something--a tree, a tire, a heavy bag, speed bags, double-end bags, focus mitts, and especially another person wearing protective gear.

I don't think you can get a feel for a technique unless you hit something...hit something hard...really REALLY HARD.  In the best training you actually should hit something that's trying to hit you back.

Learning to hit, learning to move, trying to avoid getting hurt by someone else, all of this is such an important aspect 
of combat, and yet it's not always done.  I know of some schools that don't allow contact at all.  Or if it's allowed, it must be light contact only.

In one of my first seminars with legendary instructor Hock Hochheim he told the class that they needed to pick up their sticks every now and then and go and hit something and hit it hard.  Hock understands this concept all too well, and at his seminars he encourages people to suit up so they can train hard.  I once was on the receiving end of one of Hock's leg kicks, not even one of his hard kicks mind you.  The pain was intense, and completely took over my thinking.  Imagine, I thought to myself, just imagine what that would feel like in a real fight if he were to do a full-contact, adrenalized version!

I had the incredible opportunity to be on the receiving end of some of Remy Presas' stick strikes, an unforgettable experience.  Remy wanted me to block his strike, and he made sure to warn me to hold onto the stick firmly.  When he hit it, the shock wave traveled up through my hand, wrist, forearm and shoulder.  I'm pretty sure he loosened up some of my fillings.  But feeling this impact made me aware that in a real fight it's full-on, hard contact, and if you don't have a good grip you're gonna lose the stick.  Then you'd really be screwed.

When my buddies Richard and JT and I trained we almost always added in some full-contact training.  Whenever we fought with sticks we'd wear fencing headgear, lacrosse gloves, and any extra padding we could scrounge, beg, borrow or confiscate.  We had some shin guards we got from a baseball catcher, some football padding, and some knee and elbow pads.  It was very tough training, and it was nothing to get bruised and banged up, but we understood stick fighting to be much much more than just going through fancy flourishes and twirling.  The guys we knew who didn't practice full-contact?  We derisively referred to them as 'baton twirlers.'

We used the heavy bag, and we really loved kicking the Muay Thai pads.  Sometimes a workout holding the pads for a skilled kicker was in itself a helluva workout.  You'd be forced to breath correctly to absorb the impact, which translated well into full-contact sparring.

I'm not suggesting that ALL training should be full-on full-contact all the time.  That would be unproductive and unsafe.  

But if one's training is mostly no contact or very light contact, the real impact of a real punch or kick is going to be a shock. 
How can you expect to hit hard in a fight if you've never hit something or someone hard in training?
 
Now, if you'll excuse me, in the words of the immortal THING from the Fantastic Four, "It's clobberin' time!" 

 

  

 
 

THE CPR MAASSTER--
A Breath of Fresh AirA PARABLE

Frank Johnson was a celebrity.  Maybe not as big a celebrity as a Hollywood actor or a sports legend, but in the world of CPR he was a star, and he had few equals.  Frank was a renowned CPR master, (or as he preferred to be called, MAASSTER), who owned several CPR academies and toured the world teaching his unique style.

Frank had learned his skills as a young man in the late 60s, when he had signed on as a life guard one summer at the local community pool.  His Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation (CPR) instructor was a harsh task master, and it was not uncommon for the students to be ordered into the pool to swim extra laps for messing up the sequence or for not performing up to the instructor's exacting standards.

He was lucky...he never had to actually use his CPR skills that summer.  Mostly Frank just stood at poolside, blowing his whistle when the horseplay became too intense or when kids wouldn't stop running at the edge of the pool.  But he was vigilant, always looking for signs of distress, carefully watching for the telltale symptoms of cardiac arrest.

Frank knew that if someone stopped breathing he only had seconds to respond, so he decided to excel at his CPR skills.  On many evenings when the other lifeguards took off for the local pizza parlor, Frank stayed behind practicing over and over again the vital steps of CPR on the training dummies, whom he had affectionately named Sonny and Cher after the stars of his favorite prime time TV show.

He visited the library to do additional research, and he even applied for a job at the local hospital so he could be around doctors and nurses, hopefully to gain just a little more knowledge.  Mostly he just emptied bed pans or pushed the patients around in their wheelchairs, but he picked up a tip here, a trick there.

Frank thought of himself as a Maass-man, named after Dr. Friedrich Maass, purportedly the first person to have performed documented chest compression on a human, way back in 1891.  Although there had been a number of advancements in the procedure since that time, Frank thought that the original way was the superior way.  

One day, in the mid 70s, Frank was given an incredible opportunity, one which would ultimately change his life.  Because of Frank's knowledge, dedication and persistence, he was chosen to be the new community CPR instructor.  The position involved teaching CPR not only to up and coming lifeguards, but also to soldiers at the local Army Reserve battalion, Boy Scouts, and civilians.

Frank approached his new responsibilities with the utmost gravitas.  He decided that each person who trained in these life-saving skills should wear the same hospital orderly uniform he had worn so many summers before.  He expected his student's uniforms to be clean and pressed when they showed up for class, and he began offering patches to reflect individual accomplishments.  If a particular student, for instance, received a perfect score in performing CPR, he or she would be awarded the coveted bellows patch.


Frank's classes became quite popular, and people all over town knew Frank by name.  When he went to the grocery or the barber shop, people would call him by his new nickname, "The Exhaler".

It wasn't long before Frank moved up in the CPR field, first teaching at the State level, and eventually taking on District and Regional responsibilities.  Ultimately thousands and thousands of people learned their skills as a result of Frank's tireless work.

Whenever new technology came along, such as Public Access Defibrillation (PAD) programs, Frank balked.  The old ways, the Maass technique, were, in his mind, quite sufficient.  They had worked for almost 100 years.  No need to introduce new technology, he thought, so he resigned from his position and began the first commercial CPR academy in the United States.

The first academy was small, just a storefront location near the downtown square.  He started off with a few of the former lifeguards, some retired Reservists, and one or two orderlies from the county hospital, but soon the classes grew.  Frank adhered to the old ways, and he became a stickler for perfection.  He expected each trainee to call him "MAASSTER."  The class did not use training dummies, there just wasn't enough money, and instead they were taught to visualize the victim.  They learned to shout, "YOU, CALL FOR AN AMBULANCE" in their loudest voice.  In unison they knelt down, began their chest compression exercises on imaginary victims, and counted out each one in a rhythmic cadence.

When one student suggested adding music to the class, Frank expelled him from the academy.  Larry Thompson began his own local CPR academy, the MBA (Modern Breathing Academy), and his modern approach became Frank's primary competition for several years.  More on him later.

Even with his emphasis on the past, Frank thought of himself as an open-minded instructor.  The ultra-white uniforms slowly began to be replaced with pastel-colored hospital scrubs and EMT-type utility uniforms.  He opened up a very successful kids' class, the "Elite Exhalers", and, surprisingly, he even began to allow Safar/Elam mouth-to-mouth techniques to be added to the curriculum.

Frank appeared on several community access TV programs, featuring demonstrations by his most skillful and accomplished students.  In unison they would go through the motions of CPR, with and without a human 'victim'.  Usually Frank would appear towards the end, sometimes doing a unique, dramatic and exhilarating multi-person CPR routine he had developed.

As Frank's fame spread, Larry Thompson struggled.  He felt that his new, modern, reality-based approach would catch on, but it seemed that people preferred the old ways.  Larry introduced Automated External Defibrillator (AED) certification at his academy, and stayed current on the newest methods, but Frank's school always had the largest attendance.

Larry developed the newest, cutting edge breakthrough in CPR when he developed Extreme Exhalation Gatherings (EEG).  These competitions brought in CPR experts from around the country, and eventually from around the globe.  There were several events:  Group unison CPR, Military CPR where participants competed in battle gear, and, of course, individual CPR demonstrations, often set to electronic music.

Larry's programs took off, and slowly and surely Frank's school was seen as outdated and impractical.  Frank fought back.  He decided to once again introduce dummies into the program, and he even reluctantly allowed some technology, but he tightly held on to tradition with few compromises with modernity.  

This approach ultimately prevailed, and Larry had to rely on teaching his method out of his garage.  

Frank took over the EEG competitions, and his students regularly come home with the bulk of the trophies.

Students liked Frank's traditional approach and applauded his stance against newfangled, unproven methods.  Many called Frank a "breath of fresh air" after an article came out about his work with local historical reenactors. 

Frank, Pictured Here in a Confederate Surgeon's Uniform, Attends to a Gunshot Victim
Frank eventually went on to win CPR Instructor of the Year and was named as a pioneer for his promotional efforts in the Who's Who in CPR Publication.  Here's how they described him, "IN YOUR HEART, YOU KNOW HE'S SMART."

Frank, a seasoned instructor, no longer gives demonstrations or teaches group classes at his academy.  He still teaches advanced CPR classes to an elite group of MAASTERS, and he continues to travel, occasionally teaching his method to very lucky attendees.

PRETTY IS AS PRETTY DOESWHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE

There's a quote from the movie The Dirty Dozen, where Donald Sutherland's character Pinkley is inspecting the troops, pretending to be a general.  He says, "Very pretty, General.  Very pretty.  But, can they fight?"

I see it all the time...martial artists doing elaborate, 
acrobatic moves, and I always find myself thinking like Pinkley...man, that's pretty, very pretty, but can they fight.

Do fancy, complicated moves translate to combat?  Why do we feel compelled to add fancy flourishes to simple, direct movements?

I can think of nothing uglier than hand to hand combat.  

It's a nasty, messy activity.  I talked to a Korean War veteran once about his combat experiences where entrenching tools, knives, rifle butts, fists and feet were used in a desperate, all-out battle.  The description of this furious fight was the stuff of nightmares.

I have seen the aftermath of a real knife fight, I have witnessed people being brought into the ER with street fight wounds, and I have watched as one man was stomped to unconsciousness in a violent street brawl.

Fortunately I have only been in a few real fights in my life.  They happened quickly and were over in seconds.  Only later did I feel the bruises, taste the blood, experience the stiffness from sore muscles.  

But I have known people and learned a few tricks from guys who have been in dozens of street fights; bouncers, long haul truck drivers, pipe line construction workers, tough guys, some soldiers from the 101st Airborne at Fort Campbell who had been on long range reconnaissance missions, and a few rednecks who really liked nothing better than a beer-joint bust up.  

One of my instructors had been a street cop whose beat was in some very rough parts of town.  Another one of my instructors had been a H2H combat instructor for the famed ROK Tigers.  He had combat experiences from the Vietnam War, some of which included up close and personal combat.

There was a common denominator with all of these guys:  all of them, believed in straight, to-the-point, no-nonsense tactics.  They all seemed to share a direct, nothing-fancy approach.  Not a thousand moves, not even a hundred.  Maybe a dozen or so solid, dependable, go-to techniques.  

Some moves from boxing for sure, that's a given.  Maybe a couple of take-downs from high school football and a trip or two from judo.  Knees and elbows most certainly.  Clinch fighting and grabbing the jacket collar, lapel or sleeves.  The concept of grabbing and using whatever's nearby as a shield or a club or something to throw as a distraction.  If they kicked at all, they kicked low--to the groin, the knee, the shin, or a stomp to the foot or to the face of a downed opponent.  

They could all wrestle, and knew how to get up or how to get someone off of them.  They knew how to get into and maintain a superior ground position where they could rain down destruction.  None of them thought in terms of rules or fair play.  Hit first, hit hard, hit often.  No concept of tapping out or yielding.  If the fight went to the ground, you kept fighting.  

With the exception of the martial arts instructor, most of these guys weren't what you would call fit, at least not by today's standards.  They drank a lot and a few of them smoked a pack or two of cigarettes a day.  But they were strong, probably from doing tough physical labor all their lives.  Farm work.  Construction work.  Not much flab.

I liked being around these guys.  I liked the way they talked. Loved hearing their stories, a lot of which was probably exaggerated bullshit, but you could tell when they were really telling the truth.  When they would show me a trick they would throw in a couple of tips:  Chin down, they'd say.  Hands up.  Move!  Don't be a sitting duck.  Be a moving target.  Don't square off, turn your body.  Keep your damn'd hands up!  

When they showed me a technique, they'd show me once, and then come at me.  Usually half speed, limited power.  Soon though and they'd be coming in quick as a snake, punching for real.  If you snooze you lose.  Get hit, next time you'll get your hands up..throw 'em in the deep end.

Hard hands.  If they hit you, it'd feel like they had a roll of quarters in their fist.  Vice like grips.  And if you managed to get in a punch, their bodies felt like concrete.  

They knew about knives.  How to hold them in tight.  Knew enough to know that you should grab a pool cue if you could 'cause it was about to turn ugly.  Knew that running was okay and it wasn't about some stupid sense of pride or being a warrior or something noble.  Sometimes you had to stand up to a bully.  Sometimes you had to fight when you couldn't run.  Sometimes you were gonna catch a beating.  Does it hurt, I'd ask.  Hell yeah, it hurts.  Hurts like a som'a'bitch.  They'd show me a scar, or a chipped tooth, or an empty socket where a tooth used to be.  Some had gnarled, scarred hands.

I admired their animal courage.  I saw one of these guys knock out a guy who owed him money.  It was a short, snappy punch to the jaw, and the guy fell, as they say, like a bag of flour.  I was mesmerized by their ability to stay strong in voice, no trembling, no weak knees, when facing down a bigger guy or, in some cases, more than one opponent.

Most of them didn't brag.  A few tried to downplay their toughness.  Joked a lot, laughed like crazy at their own stories.  Always knew a bunch of guys tougher than them.  "There was this ONE guy..." they'd all say, some real tough-as-nails serious, straight up bad ass.  Guy who was long since dead or in jail.  

When they found out my interest in fighting, they'd say forget it.  You don't want that.  Stay away from bars.  Ain't nothing good gonna come from that.  When they learned I was into the martial arts they'd say, keep it simple.  Don't try anything fancy.  One guy gave me this advice, "When push comes to shove, kick his teeth in."

I always wondered what these guys would say if you were to show 'em some of the stuff people do.  Fancy, silly, outlandish uniforms, very precise, exact, overly rehearsed movements.  A stand there while I work you over approach.

I think they would laugh.  I think they would say, try that on the street, and you'll get your ass kicked.  

I'm pretty sure they would admire what the MMA fighters can do now.  They'd be intrigued with some of the stuff BJJ fighters know how to do...probably say, wish I'd known THAT move.  I know for a fact they'd have admiration for some of the basic moves from FMA knife work.

But when it turns pretty, if somebody threw in something flashy, I'm convinced they'd just stare and shake their heads.

KNOCK ON WOOD
Daniel: You think you could break a log like that? 
Miyagi: Don't know. Never been attacked by a tree.  Karate Kid II


Breaking stuff, boards, bricks and ice, is universally associated with martial arts training.  They go together like bacon and eggs, like spaghetti and meatballs, like Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker.  

When someone finds out that I'm into martial arts they invariably say, "Oh, so you do this!" and then they make that universal symbol of a karate-chop motion in the air, thumb extended, while saying "Hiii-ee-yah!"  

"No," I say, "that's not what I do."

"You mean you don't break bricks and boards?" 

"Uh-uh...nope."

"So, what DO you do then?" they ask.

"Fight training...hand-to-hand combat...personal protection skills."

"Oh," they say, usually sounding a little disappointed.

I've never really understood the importance of board breaking.  But lots of my friends do it...make a big production of it.  Some even hold clinics in which they teach their students the intricacies of board breaking.


"Board breaking," according to the Academy of Traditional Karate, in Washington, MA, "is a great confidence-boosting activity.  It helps you set goals and see the power and effectiveness of your karate strikes." 
Really?
In most demonstrations involving board breaks one or more people will hold one or more boards in a static position.  The person breaking the board(s) will take time setting up the break, making fine, last-minute adjustments to the angle, making sure the grain is aligned properly, and ensuring that the person(s) holding the board(s) use(s) a good tight grip.  They may take several preliminary practice punches or kicks, like a baseball batter taking practice swings.  They may get themselves mentally prepared with deep breathing, wild war-face expressions, and loud shouts.  They often bow before and after each break as if it's a ceremony or ritual. 

At one demo, I saw a guy who had unsuccessfully attempted to break some boards with a kick, berating the guy who didn't hold the board right, which resulted in a nice, loud 'thud' but no broken board.

What has any of this to do with fighting or self defense?

What did Bruce Lee mean when he said, "Boards don't hit back"?  Why do people still do it, and shouldn't they know better?

I mean, we all know this:  An attacker does not stand still, rigid, at just the right angle.  An attacker will not brace himself so that your punches and kicks hit a firm, stationary target.  Chances are an opponent will be moving around or hard-charging directly in towards his intended victim.

The reason that martial arts include board breaks is because they teach students to focus strikes on specific points and use full power. No matter how powerful a student is, if he or she can't hit a target (and boards are usually still, but that doesn't always help) then they can't effectively use their strikes. If they can always hit something but don't know how to apply power, they're no better off. (1)

But here's an entry from Wikipedia, which points out some of the issues with board breaking:  "Breaking is based on physics and selection of materials, and the most commonly seen breaking involves spaced, softwood boards. While very difficult to break even a piece of soft pine wood hitting against (perpendicular to) the grain, breaking is almost always done with (parallel to) the grain - which requires little skill or strength. The use of spacers means instead of breaking the entire stack at once, they break one at a time; each one helps break the next as little momentum is lost and gravity is helping.  Because of this, breaking is primarily used as an advertising gimmick to woo potential customers."

If it's true that "how you practice, is how you'll perform," or "how you rehearse, is how you'll react," then shouldn't board breaking be done differently?  Trying to break a board that's in motion?

I don't dispute that board breaking takes strength, accuracy, precision and explosive force.  Especially when someone breaks 3 or 4 or more boards without using a spacer between them.  Especially speed breaks with little set up, or that trick that some martial artists do where they toss a board in the air and break it with a spin kick.  That takes incredible skill.

But it's an outdated, potentially fraudulent stunt that really does not translate into real-world fighting skill.  To my friends who have a don't-knock-it-til-you've-tried-it philosophy, I can say that I have indeed broken boards.  In fact, I used to take beginners and have them break a board in their first session just so they could say they've done it and hopefully get it out of their system.

I just don't understand its allure.  It's just another example of much ado about nothing.



http://www.dontow.com/2008/06/the-physics-of-martial-arts-breaking-boards/ 
http://www.martialdevelopment.com/blog/board-breaking-tips/

DON'T TOUCH THAT DIALSLOW TRAINING vs FAST TRAINING


“If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough.” Mario Andretti
I doubt if anyone would dispute that slow, methodical, deliberate training is needed in order to eventually become fast.  Walking through a series of movements--getting familiar with the sequence, letting the action steps settle into your muscle memory--will ultimately pay off when you pick up speed.  Learning at a calm, slow pace until the moves begin to feel familiar just makes sense.

But there's nothing like good, dynamic, explosive training from time to time.

If training is always at a certain speed, then explosiveness may not be there for you when you really need it.  You just don't see NASCAR drivers using cruise control.  Sometimes you gotta kick out the jams, go all-out, full-power, pedal-to-the-metal, full-speed ahead.

Dial the intensity all the way up to 11 every now and then!

Some researchers contend that explosiveness training is just inviting injury, but others have reached different conclusions.  
University of Alabama researchers, for example, found that doing weight resistance exercises slowly, what some have called super-slow lifting, usually just end up making workout super-long.  The up phase of a lift, they concluded, should be done at a moderate to fast tempo, while the down, or lowering phase, should be done at a slow, controlled pace.

But I guess it really depends on what you want to accomplish.  Sprinters probably do some slow-paced runs every now and then to maintain or improve aerobic capacity, but mostly they just run really fast.  Or they do things which contribute to speed, such as plyometrics, strength and power training, and sport-specific drills using drag sleds and parachutes, to develop shot-out-of-a-gun acceleration.

That's why it's surprising for me when I see some martial artists always training at a certain, comfortable speed.  Instead of ratcheting up the training, they have a don't-touch-that-dial philosophy, and they always train at a deliberate cruise control pace.

Reality tells us this is not a smart plan.  The action of a violent assault is fast, blink-and-you'll-miss-it fast.  If you've ever been in a real fight, or if you've watched real fights on security footage, it becomes all too clear that a methodical approach and a leisurely pace just won't cut it.

How to Add Explosiveness

• Work towards obtaining maximal strength:  Strength is the root of power, and power is strength in motion.  Fast people are also strong people, and strong where it matters.  Just look at the incredible, statuesque physiques of fast runners.  The common denominator resistance exercises, seen in most any sports training program, are military presses, deadlifts, bench presses, curls, lunges and squats.  Many sports trainers adhere to the 'big-butts-big-power' philosophy and use glute exercises to overcome the quad dominance found in slower, untrained athletes.

• Transition to explosive training:  Once adequate strength gains are made, it's time to start working on power and acceleration.  A solid base level of strength is required to ensure injury-free training.  Adding speed to your resistance lifts to increase the intensity is appropriate once you have developed a strong base. Squats and burpees are fantastic, and so is heavy bag training.  I remember doing what seemed like thousands of 'touch your boots' squats, pull-ups and push-ups in Airborne training at Fort Benning Georgia to prepare us for the rigorous demands of landing after jumping out of perfectly good airplanes.  These standard exercises build explosiveness, endurance and strength and should be a part of any fighter's training program.

•  Utilize plyometric exercises:  'Eccentric' is not just your crazy uncle.  In the world of elite athletes, plyometrics, in which you merge both eccentric and concentric contractions in specialized exercises, helps develop explosiveness.  Performing unique jumping and bounding movements, such as squat and jumps, doing push ups/press ups in which you launch yourself from the ground and attempt to clap one or more times before you hit the ground, or lying on the ground and catching a dropped heavy medicine ball and explosively sending it back to your partner standing above you on a chair, will make your techniques more powerful.

• Overload training helps:  Wearing weight vests, wrist weights, and/or ankle weights in a smart way can pay off down the road.  Of course it's recommended that you avoid snapping, fully extended movements while wearing wrist and ankle weights.  Off-road trail hiking on uneven terrain while wearing a backpack loaded up with sand bags is dynamite training for back, core, quads, glutes, and ankles.

• Reduce work-to-rest ratios:  As Vince Lombardi said, "Fatigue makes cowards of us all."  Speed training can very quickly deplete energy reserves.  Learning how to work through this fatigue by gradually changing the work-to-rest ratio will provide you with confidence.  Go and watch a high school or college wrestling team train some time, and you'll see athletes who push themselves way past what would turn the average athlete to mush.  This type of training can feel like punishment, but world class athletes swear by it.

• Use periodization:  You can't train fast ALL the time.  Cycle your training so that speed training and plyometrics are specifically scheduled, and progressively work towards those specific weeks and then gradually taper down before attempting it again a few weeks later.

• Hit the road, Jack:  Boxers will often do long, slow distance or LSD running, and so should we all.  But sprint training on the high school track and hill training (both uphill and downhill) are also needed.  When I coached a full contact kickboxing team back in the 80s we used 100 yard dashes to condition the fighters.  When I prepared U.S. soldiers for NATO courses such as German Ranger school or French Commando training, the soldiers would jog uphill with a buddy on their back.

• Use equipment:  Drag sleds, parachutes, and bungee cords are fantastic pieces of equipment.  Or for a cheap alternative simply use your martial arts belt with a partner holding on to the ends of the belt attempting to hold you back as you try to move forward.  This type of training can help in working to overcome resistance.  Judoka will often use bicycle inner tubes or elastic bands to practice moving in for a throw, and wrestlers will use harnesses and bungee cords to add resistance as they attempt to shoot in for a takedown.  Using a grappling dummy who feels no pain or fatigue regardless of your best efforts to slam it into oblivion can help get your lungs quickly begging for precious O2.

• Stand in the corner:  I love having students get in a corner and try to punch and kick their way out while surrounded by training partners holding kicking shields.  This is exhausting, but realistic training.  To make it even more intense set an egg timer and tell the student to make it out before the bell rings or they'll have to do it again!  

• Change directions:  Being able to move fast in one direction is not enough.  Being able to change directions quickly is key.  Zig zag, quick-feet footwork drills or having the student engage targets in multiple directions helps develop this much needed skill.  You can surround the student with 4 partners holding kicking shields.  Give each attacker a number and randomly shout out a number to signal one of them to charge in.  This forces the defender to change directions quickly and be ready for an attack from any angle. 

• Get wet:  Training in a swimming pool is phenomenal at providing resistance and enhancing speed.  I have done judo, wrestling, and stand-up sparring in a pool, and I have even practiced trying to run full speed in a lane intended for swimming.  After a little of this you'll feel like the Flash when you try to run on solid ground.  Don't believe me that it's great training?  Just look at this picture of the greatest himself! 

OBSESSION WITH PRECISION
"Welcome to the real world." 
The Matrix

When I first started training in martial arts, it was not uncommon to find a poster in every dojo showing the body's vulnerable areas.  Little red arrows pointed to the eyes, nose and chin, the ribs, the solar plexus, the groin, the kidneys, the knees, etc.  The poster implied that the body was just chock full of vital areas which, if struck, would produce agonizing pain, mind-searing trauma, and absolute unconsciousness or worse.

I still see these old posters from time to time, and sometimes I'll see newer, revamped versions.  What's odd is that the number of vulnerable areas seems to have grown.  With the popularity and growth of so-called 'pressure point fighting' techniques, a typical poster now looks like a picture in a medical journal of a victim of measles.  

Here's what they don't tell you:  Hitting those targets, especially on a living, breathing, highly agitated, resisting, bull-charging, coked-out, brain-numbed, adrenalized attacker ain't that easy.   And here's something else they may forget to say:  Even if you are lucky enough to actually hit one of those targets, the result may not be as dramatic as you have been led to expect.

It's not just that you're trying to hit a moving target.  You're trying to hit a MOVING-AT-YOU target.

Many martial artists, it seems, are absolutely obsessed with precision.  They obsess about achieving the proper stance and perfect posture and other trivial matters.  I once watched a class in which 3 different types of praying mantis hands were described along with the merits of each.  Too many martial artists worry about the art and forget all about the martial.  They obsess over fine nuances of techniques, concerned for how good they look.  

A clue:  If your favorite piece of training equipment is the mirror, you may be approaching your fighting skills all wrong. 

Precision, or exactness and accuracy, are goals in many sports and recreational activities--golf, darts, archery, bowling, etc.  In dance, in gymnastics and in other performance-driven arts, precision is indeed important.  An artist will be judged on the merits of his or her precise movements.  Perhaps, in the arena of combat sports, such as boxing, MMA, K-1, Muay Thai, precision is a major factor. 

"I believe in precision," said professional boxer Alexis Arguello.  "I'd take precision any day over power."  

But in the world of hand-to-hand combat, and life-or-death personal protection, precision is just one of many factors.  I would contend that there are a number of other factors and attributes that are key:

• Positioning.  Finding a stance (fighting platform) that is both stable and mobile.  Chin down, hands up.  Knees bent.  Ready to pivot.  Room to move.  Move like an athlete.  Agile.

• Power.  Achieving stopping power.  Mass times acceleration.

• Redundancy.  Back-up plans and follow-up tactics.

• Tenacity.  Stubborn, never-say-die, honey-badger-don't-care mindset.  

• Flow.  Not some flippy-dippy small stream flow.  I'm talking a raging torrent of techniques.  Machine-gun mentality.

• Emotional control.  Just the right amount of fierce anger. Not yielding to fear, not succumbing to panic.  Not giving in to energy-sapping emotion.

• Breathing.  Keep breathing.  Force the breath out.  Bring air in.

• Pain management.  It'll hurt tomorrow, but not today, not now.  Put it out of your mind.

• As Morpheus told Neo in the movie "The Matrix":  "You have to let it all go, Neo. Fear, doubt, and disbelief. Free your mind."  Don't get fixated.  Don't evaluate, don't measure, don't judge your performance.  Don't think too much.  Allow the machine to do what it has been trained to do.  As George Clinton said, “Free your mind and your ass will follow.” 

ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY SURE THIS IS GONNA WORK?KEEPING IT REAL
"Making the simple complicated is commonplace; making the complicated simple, awesomely simple, that’s creative.”
Charles Mingus


The martial arts world is chock full of techniques which are often very complicated and highly imaginative...a lot like a Rube Goldberg machine.  

In case you're not familiar with the cartoons of Rube Goldberg, there's a spot on description from a character in Adam Felber's Schrödinger's Ball:  "You know: a lever is pulled, causing a boot to kick a dog, whose bark motivates a hamster to run on a wheel which winds a pulley that raises a gate that releases a bowling ball and so on? Until, at the end, finally, the machine does something incredibly mundane, like making a piece of toast.”
Here's a simple question to ask when evaluating a martial arts technique or tactic:  Are you sure, ABSOLUTELY SURE, this is gonna work?
Just because it looks good in a demonstration or a choreographed fight sequence, or just because it appears to work in a training environment with a cooperative opponent, does not mean it will work when push comes to shove in a real-world situation.

What do we even mean when we ask "will it work?"  And is it even all that important that we train with this purpose in mind?  

Some techniques may be said to 'work' but have no immediate or direct combat applications.  Look at Karate's sanchin kata for example.  It consists of strenuous deep breathing, isometric type contractions of the major muscle groups and a specific stance with limited mobility.  Proponents will tell you that it 'works' because it helps in developing one's inner power, focus, and breathing.  Judo has kata which train specific throws, pins, and self defense moves, but there are also kata which demonstrate more subtle movements--for example, Koshiki No Kata, with its almost waltzing type footwork.  I am sure that judoka will tell you that there are important attributes in this particular kata, and that ultimately one becomes better in action after having mastered these moves.

But I'm not really talking about attribute training or exercise routines that may or may not have direct relevance to fight training.  I'm talking about combative moves.

I like the motto of the TV show Mythbusters:  "They don't just tell the myths, they put them to the test."  Using scientific protocol the cast of the show looks at myths and urban legends, and after rigorous testing they determine whether the myth is confirmed, plausible or busted.

In the field of physics there are theoretical physicists and experimental physicists.  "Theoretical physics is the kind of physics that Einstein did," says Jonathan Gardner. "He would think of things, and then do the math, and find out interesting formula and patterns, and new ways to describe old things."  Experimental physicists, on the other hand, "spend the majority of their brainpower figuring out how to coax new results out of nature, which is very difficult given the constraints of technology and limited resources."

A martial artist involved in a combat sport has an approach more similar to experimental physics.  In most combat sports the question of whether a technique works rarely comes up.  Like the Mythbusters, there is ample opportunity to put a technique to the test in MMA, Boxing, Wrestling, Sambo, Muay Thai Kick Boxing, Savate, Judo, and BJJ.  In these sports there is a resisting opponent and conditions which allow an outcome where one competitor may be able to dominate the other using superior tactics.  But in non-competitive martial arts, there is often only a subjective analysis of the efficacy of a technique.  For the non-competitive martial artist, determining whether a technique works is usually a matter of conjecture--a 'what if' mind experiment similar to what a theoretical physicist would do.  


Janet Stemwedel, in Scientific American, says that credible scientists can lay out the following:

• Here’s my hypothesis.
• Here’s what you’d expect to observe if the hypothesis is true. 
• Here, on the other hand, is what you’d expect to observe if the hypothesis is false.
• Here’s what we actually observed (and here are the steps we took to control the other variables).
• Here’s what we can say (and with what degree of certainty) about the hypothesis in the light of these results.
• Here’s the next study we’d like to do to be even more sure. (1)

I recommend a similar approach in evaluating the techniques and tactics in one's curriculum.  Here's the technique.  Here's what is expected to happen when you use this technique.  Now, let's put the technique to the test.

A technique can be said to be effective if the result or outcome of using the technique meets specific goals and objectives:  

• It must work in a highly mobile, chaotic environment
• It must work against a resisting, non-compliant attacker
• It must neutralize the attacker's force
• It must work with little or no preparation
• It works in a wide spectrum of situations

Techniques which are downright worthless, or at least suspicious, would be those which are:

• Dependent on some force beyond physics
• Dependent on very specific conditions
• Dependent on very specific responses from the attacker
• Highly technical and/or difficult to explain
• Complicated, containing too much precision and flourish, with too much emphasis on aesthetics
• Too dependent on rote memory
• Too risky; i.e., a poor cost/benefit ratio
• Too constrained by rules and standards

"At this time the fashion is to bring something to jazz that I reject. They speak of freedom. But one has no right, under pretext of freeing yourself, to be illogical and incoherent by getting rid of structure and simply piling a lot of notes one on top of the other. There's no beat anymore. You can't keep time with your foot...  There's a new idea that consists in destroying everything and find what's shocking and unexpected; whereas jazz must first of all tell a story that anyone can understand."Thelonious Monk

GROUNDHOG DAY AT THE DOJOS.S.D.D.

"You're so lucky," said my friend who ran a very large and successful martial arts studio.

"Why's that?"

"Because, you get to teach the cool stuff.


"Define 'cool stuff.'"

"You know, self-defense, knife and stick fighting, disarms, joint locks, ground fighting, cool drills, stuff like that.  I have to teach punch-block-kick.  I have to teach boring patterns and foreign terminology.  I have to deal with pesky parents.  I have to prepare students for their next belt test.  I'll get a new batch of students.  I'll teach them to punch and kick and break boards.  I'll teach them how to move up and down the floor in unison.  And they'll make it to yellow belt, maybe a little further, but most quit along the way.  They try it for a while, but they get bored, lose interest, play other sports, move on to other hobbies.  Few make it to the upper ranks where we introduce our own cool stuff."

"Sounds like the movie 'Groundhog Day,' where Bill Murray's character wakes up to the same day every day.  

"Yep...same sh*t, different day."

So why not teach the 'cool stuff' early?"

"Well, they have to learn the basics before they can get to the cool stuff."


"Why?"

"Because they won't have the skills they need to do the cool stuff if they don't first learn the basics."


"But I thought you said that a lot of them quit before they get there."

"Most do."


"I thought you said they get bored and lose interest."

"That's right...they just don't have the same discipline we did when we were younger."

"So what would happen if you taught the cool stuff first and then worked on the precision later?  Or what if you taught the basics in a cool way."

"They won't be ABLE to do that stuff.  You have to walk before you can run."


"But can't they at least jog a little?  Why so rigid?"

"Look, I'm proud of what I teach...the tradition, the intricacies of the style...I like focusing on the 'art' aspect of the martial arts.  It's a structured approach."


"So, let me see if I understand this:  You have a revolving door of undisciplined people coming into your school who apparently have short attention spans. Correct?"

"Sounds about right."

"But these students need a highly regimented, structured approach to help them become excellent martial artists, right?"


"Yep."

"So they may start out highly motivated, with dreams of becoming black belts or martial arts champions, but they start to become disillusioned.  They end up not making martial arts a life-long passion.  Sooner than later, and for lots of petty reasons, they quit before they get to the higher echelons of your program.  It's a high attrition activity."


"Correct again!"

"And this 'Program,' it's immutable?  It was carved on stone tablets and handed down from the heavens like the Ten Commandments?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, but according to you, there's not much flexibility or variation.  The way you learned is the way you teach.  Let me ask you a question."

"Okay."
"How long do you think people have been fighting each other?"

"Since the beginning, I guess...from time immemorial as they say."

"So Neanderthals and cave-dwelling Troglodytes were probably fighting each other?"

"Probably....yeah, most certainly."
"You could almost say that aggression and violence are part of our genetic makeup.  We have emotions which give us the impetus to fight, and while we may not have the claws and fangs of other members of the animal kingdom, we have muscle, bone and sinew.  We have big brains, the ability to process information quickly, and the ability to remember what we have seen and heard and learned.  You with me so far?"

"I'd probably agree with all of that."

"But we also have a tendency to over-think things.  We are a superstitious lot, and we also have a tendency to overemphasize the trivial.  We label certain things and certain events as 'IMPORTANT,' and we latch on to them, pass them on from generation to generation.

"Remember that kid's game where we whisper a secret to the person next to us, and by the time it gets back around the message has changed?  Well, we forget some of the details.  The message changes.  What we end up with is not what we started out with.  You with me so far?"


"I think so."
"Things, places, words and phrases, and specific actions may take on symbolic value...representing something that was once considered important enough to pass on.  But key details may fade, and the original meaning or the specifics may have been lost over the years.  This was especially true before we had books and computers to record key details.  Traditions can thus quite easily turn into stylized ritual, only vaguely resembling the original.  Would you agree with that?"

"I guess."

"Okay, stay the me.  A violent battle from the pre-historic past, for example, in which the danger was very real, the casualty rate was quite high, and the losses were hard on everyone, well, this battle would be remembered and discussed around the campfire wouldn't it?  

"It's an event that a neuroscientist would refer to as salient.  It stands out in our minds in a very vivid way.  We would feel compelled to remember the event...remember the individual acts of courage and heroism, remember the tragic losses, remember the hardship and sacrifice.  But each telling of the story, each remembrance, might take on a slightly different detail or minor change.  

"Remember the movie 'Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome?'  Well, one of the characters, one of only a handful of survivors of a plane crash around the time of the apocalypse who have grown up with only scattered memories, says, 'Time counts and keeps countin', and we knows now finding the trick of what's been and lost ain't no easy ride. But that's our trek, we gotta' travel it. And there ain't nobody knows where it's gonna' lead. Still in all, every night we does the tell, so that we 'member who we was and where we came from.'  

"They all know that it's important to keep the story alive, but key facts have long since been forgotten. They may remember the gist of the story, but the details have faded.  What they end up with is ritual, and symbolism, and slogans.

"Turns out we're not that much different.  We replay vivid, salient events in our minds, both consciously and unconsciously.  I had a friend who had seen me in a minor street altercation where I had to defend myself.  In his mind the story grew, and years later, in his telling of the story, I had successfully fought off 3 guys.

"So we end up with a story that is much different from the original circumstances.  Before long we have something that barely resembles the past, and we end up with something that is merely a symbolic representation of the distant event.  

"A veteran of the battle may describe what he did as he engaged the enemy in hand-to-hand combat.  If it worked, we reckon, it's worth knowing.  If it happens again, we convince ourselves, we'll be ready.  We should all learn those moves just in case, and when the enemy does this, we will do that.  Before long we build a system of movements around those events, those unique circumstances.  Before long the system becomes important as the original details are forgotten.  Before long the system becomes more important than the original event that inspired it.  Before long 'getting it right' becomes more important than 'making it work.'"

"What's all of this got to do with me?"

"It's just that you seem frustrated with what you're doing.  Let me ask you a question...I noticed a Bruce Lee poster in your school.  Are your students fans of Bruce Lee?"

"Sure, I guess most of them are."

"So here's where I get confused.  Bruce Lee was all about individual freedom and personal expression.  He eschewed what he called the 'classical mess,' and promoted a take-what-is-useful, experimental approach in which training methodologies and techniques which had merit should be used, while those which weren't practical or useful should be discarded.

"He railed against those who were rigidly bound to established, traditional systems.  He famously said, 'Truth cannot be structured or confined.  I hope to free my comrades from bondage to styles, patterns and doctrines.'  

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, why not break free yourself?  Why not step back and take a fresh look, get a new perspective, on your program.  Are there things you could do to keep your students interested?  Could you introduce some training methods that are action-oriented, reality-based?  Couldn't you take your curriculum and apply it to a modern sensibility?  Let go of the some of the stuff that doesn't work, doesn't last, doesn't keep your students' attention?  Couldn't you revamp the program, loosen it up a little bit?  Maybe play around with the class structure, experiment with some drills and exciting skills?"

"I really wish I could.  That would be cool.   But I can't.  This is my program.  This is what I do.  Man, I really envy you....you're so lucky."


"It's like deja vu all over again."Yogi Berra