2023 Class 2

A month had sauntered by since my maiden voyage into the seas of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. It was a pleasant little interval in the theatrical production I'd somewhat unwittingly cast myself into. During this hiatus, I'd obtained my own gi, thus emancipating myself from the shared, slightly over-sweaty ones at the gym. And with a stroke of a pen, my wallet and I pledged our mutual commitment to this martial endeavor.

Day 2 was a more populated affair than my debut. There were the familiar faces, the fresh faces, and then there was the owner. He was a virtuoso of violence, a conductor of combat. Our day's curriculum featured the art of the arm lock and the nuance of the collar choke - our duet of instruction for the session.

The maestro took it upon himself to demonstrate the choke. The imprint of my gi, etched onto my skin, was a bit like a signature of pain. During our practice, my training partner paused to kindly rearrange my facial foliage. My beard, my face's loyal companion for over a year, was to become an unexpected casualty of my new pursuit, as it would have to go.

The class didn't really end so much as it gradually petered out. The owner suggested we could carry on with the rolling if we liked. Some silently slipped away like cats in the night, and I, in my novice wisdom, joined their ranks. But some warriors remained, locked in their training like two wizards in a magical duel. I bid the owner a few words of farewell, and exited the stage.

As I departed, one thought echoed in my mind. There lay before me an entire cosmos of knowledge, of unspoken rules and martial traditions to unlock. This was but the overture to my symphony of learning. My grand adventure was only just taking shape.

Keep your shell hard and your roll steady. Oss, turtles!