2008/10/09 -- First Practice
2008/10/16 -- Hakama and Keikogi
2008/11/15 -- Bogu
2009/02/11 -- 1-kyuu Shinsa (Passed)
2009/09/06 -- 1-dan Shinsa (Passed)
Monday, September 7, 2009
Shodan (1-dan) Shinsa
I had my shodan (1-dan) shinsa the other day at the city gym, which was the same place I had my 1-kyuu shinsa at. The city gym has a fairly large dojo for kendo, which was good, because there were a TON of people there this time.
This shinsa was only for 1- and 2-dan grading, but there was quite a crowd nonetheless. There were probably almost three times as many people trying for 1-dan than 2-dan. The people trying for 1-dan were largely second-year junior high students, but there were also a few late beginners from high school and five or six adults (four of us being men).
Since I couldn't find a ride, I biked to the gym -- it was about five kilometers. Since I had my shinai/bogu with me, it took a little longer than it normally would have. I arrived before registration, but well after a lot of other people, it seemed. Sensei saw me and took me to a corner in front of the emergency exit to change, since the locker room was filled with bags from everyone else who'd arrived a lot earlier than I did.
There was a bit of registration panic because I didn't have everything on my form filled out that I should have, despite having checked with sensei earlier this week about it. Oops. So he filled those places out for me (with amazing handwriting), then we ran into a second bump... Registration was 12,300 yen, I brought 13,000 yen because I didn't want coins falling out of my pocket while I biked or something. Well, apparently they wanted exact change... so sensei ended up fishing out some coins. I felt really bad.
I was actually quite nervous on the spot; a lot of it was procedural nervousness. Not only is my Japanese listening comprehension not that great, but the dojo also had absolutely terrible acoustics, with quite a bit of echo. I stuck with two students from my junior high who'd come and relied on them a bit to tell me what was going on.
The first half of the day was kata practice. I found the girl I'd practiced with for the 1-kyuu shinsa, so we practiced together this time as well. The 1-kyuu shinsa required kata 1-3, this one required 1-5. I technically know 1-7, but it was nice to have the refresher. The hardest parts of the kata practice were when we were forced to stay in sonkyo or jodan while the sensei walked around talking and checking people. My arms were definitely sore after the jodan bit!
It was also hard to tell who was supposed to lead, since the words (uchidachi and shidachi) tend to sound about the same to me with the echo. Again, I ended up relying on the two junior high students I knew.
After the kata practice wrapped up, we split up into our respective groups (guys and girls testing for 1-dan, then all of the 2-dan people together) to get our numbers. This was a fairly tedious process; there were four adult men, and I was number 1. I'd really hoped someone ELSE would be number 1 so that I'd be able to watch the procedure, but it worked out okay.
We had a 50-minute break for lunch; I ate some meat and rice, then went back to get my armor on and prepare all of the cords so that I could put the men on quickly when it was my turn. It turned out not to matter since I was going after all of the junior high kids, all 76 of them. I had a lot of time to sit and watch; I watched how they did kendo and I watched the judging panel's expressions to see how my thoughts matched up with theirs. I noticed that the judges weren't at all shy about laughing; I wasn't sure if this was because someone made a joke, or because someone's kendo was just that bad. Sometimes it happens.
There were quite a few times when the process stopped so that the judges could explain the correct way to do something to a hapless kenshi who had the misfortune to do it completely wrong. I have a feeling those people didn't pass.
One of the major problems was that in uchikaeshi, people were doing massive side-to-side swings rather than angled up-and-down swings. I guess the need for speed and nervousness really got to a lot of people. Kiai and kakegoe often seemed weak or like they were used as an afterthought -- especially in uchikaeshi.
I have to admit, I had an underlying nervousness throughout the entire process because of the idea of the written exam. My keiko and uchikaeshi portions flew by (30 seconds for each, two bouts of keiko) and before I knew it, we were doing kata. All of the kata went fine up til the end (I was uchidachi) when my partner messed up really, really badly and I found myself kind of clueless about what to do and kind of stood there. They had us redo it and it went fine.
After the kata portion, they announced the people who had passed so far and told all of us to get our stuff for the written exam. We all sat down and they passed out large, blank sheets of B4 paper for the written exam. The sensei went out of their way to help me, knowing that as an American, my Japanese isn't anywhere near perfect. The sensei in charge read the three questions in Japanese; my sensei wrote them down in Japanese and gave me the paper, then another sensei came by to read them out loud and make sure I understood them. I was very, very grateful for everything they did to make it easier for me.
I wrote and wrote; my handwriting isn't that great and I really didn't care, since I wanted to make sure I got out everything I could in the time allotted. I filled an entire large sheet of B4 paper and rushed up to the panel. It turned out that I had plenty of time left, about 5-10 minutes, actually... but time seems to pass faster when you don't have a clock and you're writing in a foreign language.
There were five people on the panel checking papers; I went straight for my sensei since I figured he's used to "my kind" of Japanese. He read it over, hmm'd approvingly a few times, and laughed at how much I wrote -- he even passed it to the other judges so they could laugh, too. I looked at the junior high kids' papers and a lot of them hadn't even written half of what I had. Oops.
I don't think anyone actually failed the written portion.
After that, we all finished up, said our thanks, cleaned, and went home.
I still feel sore the day after -- sitting on a hard, wooden floor the entire day while trying to keep my back straight didn't do my lower back any favors. My foot hurts where a callus peeled off, too. But I'm 1-dan!
Here's to 2-dan in a year!
This shinsa was only for 1- and 2-dan grading, but there was quite a crowd nonetheless. There were probably almost three times as many people trying for 1-dan than 2-dan. The people trying for 1-dan were largely second-year junior high students, but there were also a few late beginners from high school and five or six adults (four of us being men).
Since I couldn't find a ride, I biked to the gym -- it was about five kilometers. Since I had my shinai/bogu with me, it took a little longer than it normally would have. I arrived before registration, but well after a lot of other people, it seemed. Sensei saw me and took me to a corner in front of the emergency exit to change, since the locker room was filled with bags from everyone else who'd arrived a lot earlier than I did.
There was a bit of registration panic because I didn't have everything on my form filled out that I should have, despite having checked with sensei earlier this week about it. Oops. So he filled those places out for me (with amazing handwriting), then we ran into a second bump... Registration was 12,300 yen, I brought 13,000 yen because I didn't want coins falling out of my pocket while I biked or something. Well, apparently they wanted exact change... so sensei ended up fishing out some coins. I felt really bad.
I was actually quite nervous on the spot; a lot of it was procedural nervousness. Not only is my Japanese listening comprehension not that great, but the dojo also had absolutely terrible acoustics, with quite a bit of echo. I stuck with two students from my junior high who'd come and relied on them a bit to tell me what was going on.
The first half of the day was kata practice. I found the girl I'd practiced with for the 1-kyuu shinsa, so we practiced together this time as well. The 1-kyuu shinsa required kata 1-3, this one required 1-5. I technically know 1-7, but it was nice to have the refresher. The hardest parts of the kata practice were when we were forced to stay in sonkyo or jodan while the sensei walked around talking and checking people. My arms were definitely sore after the jodan bit!
It was also hard to tell who was supposed to lead, since the words (uchidachi and shidachi) tend to sound about the same to me with the echo. Again, I ended up relying on the two junior high students I knew.
After the kata practice wrapped up, we split up into our respective groups (guys and girls testing for 1-dan, then all of the 2-dan people together) to get our numbers. This was a fairly tedious process; there were four adult men, and I was number 1. I'd really hoped someone ELSE would be number 1 so that I'd be able to watch the procedure, but it worked out okay.
We had a 50-minute break for lunch; I ate some meat and rice, then went back to get my armor on and prepare all of the cords so that I could put the men on quickly when it was my turn. It turned out not to matter since I was going after all of the junior high kids, all 76 of them. I had a lot of time to sit and watch; I watched how they did kendo and I watched the judging panel's expressions to see how my thoughts matched up with theirs. I noticed that the judges weren't at all shy about laughing; I wasn't sure if this was because someone made a joke, or because someone's kendo was just that bad. Sometimes it happens.
There were quite a few times when the process stopped so that the judges could explain the correct way to do something to a hapless kenshi who had the misfortune to do it completely wrong. I have a feeling those people didn't pass.
One of the major problems was that in uchikaeshi, people were doing massive side-to-side swings rather than angled up-and-down swings. I guess the need for speed and nervousness really got to a lot of people. Kiai and kakegoe often seemed weak or like they were used as an afterthought -- especially in uchikaeshi.
I have to admit, I had an underlying nervousness throughout the entire process because of the idea of the written exam. My keiko and uchikaeshi portions flew by (30 seconds for each, two bouts of keiko) and before I knew it, we were doing kata. All of the kata went fine up til the end (I was uchidachi) when my partner messed up really, really badly and I found myself kind of clueless about what to do and kind of stood there. They had us redo it and it went fine.
After the kata portion, they announced the people who had passed so far and told all of us to get our stuff for the written exam. We all sat down and they passed out large, blank sheets of B4 paper for the written exam. The sensei went out of their way to help me, knowing that as an American, my Japanese isn't anywhere near perfect. The sensei in charge read the three questions in Japanese; my sensei wrote them down in Japanese and gave me the paper, then another sensei came by to read them out loud and make sure I understood them. I was very, very grateful for everything they did to make it easier for me.
I wrote and wrote; my handwriting isn't that great and I really didn't care, since I wanted to make sure I got out everything I could in the time allotted. I filled an entire large sheet of B4 paper and rushed up to the panel. It turned out that I had plenty of time left, about 5-10 minutes, actually... but time seems to pass faster when you don't have a clock and you're writing in a foreign language.
There were five people on the panel checking papers; I went straight for my sensei since I figured he's used to "my kind" of Japanese. He read it over, hmm'd approvingly a few times, and laughed at how much I wrote -- he even passed it to the other judges so they could laugh, too. I looked at the junior high kids' papers and a lot of them hadn't even written half of what I had. Oops.
I don't think anyone actually failed the written portion.
After that, we all finished up, said our thanks, cleaned, and went home.
I still feel sore the day after -- sitting on a hard, wooden floor the entire day while trying to keep my back straight didn't do my lower back any favors. My foot hurts where a callus peeled off, too. But I'm 1-dan!
Here's to 2-dan in a year!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Shinsa
The shinsa was held as part of a sports event at the city gym; there were near two hundred people, though I was one of only three adults being graded. Oddly enough, all three of us were trying for 1-kyuu. Most of the kenshi there were female, too, which I found surprising.
I arrived around 8 AM, since registration opened at 8:15; I was traveling with two kids from my dojo, who were also testing for 1-kyuu. We practiced our kata for a while until registration opened, then registered -- it was fairly straightforward: pay them 4000 yen and give them the application form.
Registration closed about an hour later and we all gathered for the opening remarks by my sensei. He told us what they would be looking for and gave us some advice (try your best, kiai loudly, cut/move/think straight). After that, we were split up between the kendojo and judojo for kata practice. I was sent to the judojo -- it was really odd practicing on that bouncy floor.
Several sensei came with us to the judojo and we were split even more -- two groups going for 1-kyuu, then a group going for 1-dan, and another group going for 2-dan. We were all together while the sensei talked about the history of kendo and the katana (for a long, long time) -- then we went to different parts of the room to practice.
For us 1-kyuu wannabes, that meant watching two sensei perform each kata (1-3) multiple times, commenting on important parts. They also talked a lot about reigi and how/when/where to bow, since it was our first shinsa.
After a lot of watching and a little practicing (3 or 4 times as shidachi/uchidachi), we had a quick break to stretch and get a drink before we gathered again for another round of practicing. We finally wrapped up around 1 and were told to prepare our bogu, then eat lunch.
Our lunch break was about half an hour -- I was kind of mystified by the fact that we had the shinsa AFTER lunch, since it seemed like a good way to get a stomachache, but I guess it works.
When we came back, we were split into our respective testing groups again and sent to a third of the kendojo -- each third had a grading panel of five sensei. The 1-kyuu group was then further divided into elementary kids (6th graders can test for 1-kyuu), junior high kids (tons testing for 1-kyuu, a few for 1-dan, and then even fewer for 2-dan due to age), and then high school kids and above (the group I was in). The order was elementary -> high school -> junior high, since there were only 14 or so elementary kids, 5 of us, and then around 140 junior high kids.
First, the elementary kids went up for uchikaeshi and keiko; it was all lumped together on what seemed to be a 3-5-minute time limit. 1 vs 2, with both doing uchikaeshi, and then keiko, then 2 vs 3, with 3 doing uchikaeshi, then keiko, and then 4 vs 3, with 4 doing uchikaeshi, then keiko, etc. At the end, the last person would do uchikaeshi and keiko with 1 again. That way everyone gets a chance to do uchikaeshi as shidachi and uchidachi, and everyone gets a chance to keiko twice. It was a long, tedious process, even though our individual parts only lasted a little while. We were told to go relax or practice while we were waiting on everyone else.
After about two hours, we reassembled sans bogu for kata. My group and the elementary kids went up together, and I ended up being shidachi. We went through 1-3 together and that was it for us -- we went off to relax again until they called us for the closing remarks and results.
Everyone in my group passed 1-kyuu. There were a bunch of junior high kids who didn't, unfortunately; most of the elementary kids passed as well.
I'd guess that the junior high kids who didn't pass just joined this year in kendo club; the elementary kids who passed have probably been doing kendo for several years at this point. That's just my guess, though.
I arrived around 8 AM, since registration opened at 8:15; I was traveling with two kids from my dojo, who were also testing for 1-kyuu. We practiced our kata for a while until registration opened, then registered -- it was fairly straightforward: pay them 4000 yen and give them the application form.
Registration closed about an hour later and we all gathered for the opening remarks by my sensei. He told us what they would be looking for and gave us some advice (try your best, kiai loudly, cut/move/think straight). After that, we were split up between the kendojo and judojo for kata practice. I was sent to the judojo -- it was really odd practicing on that bouncy floor.
Several sensei came with us to the judojo and we were split even more -- two groups going for 1-kyuu, then a group going for 1-dan, and another group going for 2-dan. We were all together while the sensei talked about the history of kendo and the katana (for a long, long time) -- then we went to different parts of the room to practice.
For us 1-kyuu wannabes, that meant watching two sensei perform each kata (1-3) multiple times, commenting on important parts. They also talked a lot about reigi and how/when/where to bow, since it was our first shinsa.
After a lot of watching and a little practicing (3 or 4 times as shidachi/uchidachi), we had a quick break to stretch and get a drink before we gathered again for another round of practicing. We finally wrapped up around 1 and were told to prepare our bogu, then eat lunch.
Our lunch break was about half an hour -- I was kind of mystified by the fact that we had the shinsa AFTER lunch, since it seemed like a good way to get a stomachache, but I guess it works.
When we came back, we were split into our respective testing groups again and sent to a third of the kendojo -- each third had a grading panel of five sensei. The 1-kyuu group was then further divided into elementary kids (6th graders can test for 1-kyuu), junior high kids (tons testing for 1-kyuu, a few for 1-dan, and then even fewer for 2-dan due to age), and then high school kids and above (the group I was in). The order was elementary -> high school -> junior high, since there were only 14 or so elementary kids, 5 of us, and then around 140 junior high kids.
First, the elementary kids went up for uchikaeshi and keiko; it was all lumped together on what seemed to be a 3-5-minute time limit. 1 vs 2, with both doing uchikaeshi, and then keiko, then 2 vs 3, with 3 doing uchikaeshi, then keiko, and then 4 vs 3, with 4 doing uchikaeshi, then keiko, etc. At the end, the last person would do uchikaeshi and keiko with 1 again. That way everyone gets a chance to do uchikaeshi as shidachi and uchidachi, and everyone gets a chance to keiko twice. It was a long, tedious process, even though our individual parts only lasted a little while. We were told to go relax or practice while we were waiting on everyone else.
After about two hours, we reassembled sans bogu for kata. My group and the elementary kids went up together, and I ended up being shidachi. We went through 1-3 together and that was it for us -- we went off to relax again until they called us for the closing remarks and results.
Everyone in my group passed 1-kyuu. There were a bunch of junior high kids who didn't, unfortunately; most of the elementary kids passed as well.
I'd guess that the junior high kids who didn't pass just joined this year in kendo club; the elementary kids who passed have probably been doing kendo for several years at this point. That's just my guess, though.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Exam Time
There was a period when I was getting pretty frustrated with my kendo and how badly I was doing at... well, everything. I feel like I'm getting better now, though; I have a better grasp of how to move with armor on, I feel like I can get one or two hits in in sparring practice, and I think I'm starting to understand the basics.
On the other hand, there's this blog. I originally wanted to chronicle my growth in kendo and remind myself of what I was doing in each class, but the blog ended up becoming a burden and a distraction... not to mention a dead albatross around my neck. I ended up just sitting down and thinking about all of the mistakes I'd made rather than what I'd accomplished.
So, if you've been waiting for a post -- sorry!
The reason I'm making this one is that I have an exam coming up -- ikkyuu, or first kyuu. Kendo rankings generally run from sixth kyuu to first kyuu, and then from first dan to eighth dan. It doesn't sound as fancy as it looks, though; first kyuu is the first rank that really means anything in the kendo world, and then, it doesn't mean much at all... just that you attended practice and paid attention for a little while.
Seriously. The lower kyuus aren't even graded or really recognized by the kendo federation; they're awarded by each dojo. They're given to help people feel that they've progressed (something I can certainly understand!) -- knowing how to sit, hold the shinai properly, walk properly, dress properly...
Ikkyuu is, I guess, a grade that shows that you're learning how to practice properly. Even though first dan is regarded in the US as "black belt", in Japan, first dan just means you're serious about wanting to learn. Third dan is where most people stop; serious kenshi are around fifth dan. Seventh dan is really, really hard, and the test for eighth dan is supposed to be one of the hardest tests in the world. National Geographic even did a special about it at one point.
My first kyuu test is in two and a half weeks or so -- I'm really nervous about it. Even though it's such a minor ranking, it's my first real step into the world of kendo.
On the other hand, there's this blog. I originally wanted to chronicle my growth in kendo and remind myself of what I was doing in each class, but the blog ended up becoming a burden and a distraction... not to mention a dead albatross around my neck. I ended up just sitting down and thinking about all of the mistakes I'd made rather than what I'd accomplished.
So, if you've been waiting for a post -- sorry!
The reason I'm making this one is that I have an exam coming up -- ikkyuu, or first kyuu. Kendo rankings generally run from sixth kyuu to first kyuu, and then from first dan to eighth dan. It doesn't sound as fancy as it looks, though; first kyuu is the first rank that really means anything in the kendo world, and then, it doesn't mean much at all... just that you attended practice and paid attention for a little while.
Seriously. The lower kyuus aren't even graded or really recognized by the kendo federation; they're awarded by each dojo. They're given to help people feel that they've progressed (something I can certainly understand!) -- knowing how to sit, hold the shinai properly, walk properly, dress properly...
Ikkyuu is, I guess, a grade that shows that you're learning how to practice properly. Even though first dan is regarded in the US as "black belt", in Japan, first dan just means you're serious about wanting to learn. Third dan is where most people stop; serious kenshi are around fifth dan. Seventh dan is really, really hard, and the test for eighth dan is supposed to be one of the hardest tests in the world. National Geographic even did a special about it at one point.
My first kyuu test is in two and a half weeks or so -- I'm really nervous about it. Even though it's such a minor ranking, it's my first real step into the world of kendo.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Kendo XVIII -- Steam Man
No relation to the animated film Steam Boy, though.
Today, after a very intense practice, after I took off my men, steam was rising from my head for a while and the kids couldn't resist poking fun at it. The dojo was very cool and I was very hot, hence the steam.
Practice started with kata review. Kendo has seven basic kata using a wooden katana, or bokuto. Each kata has two halves; the uchidachi's (teacher) and shidachi's (student). I know the shidachi's halves better for obvious reasons, though I'm able to do the uchidachi for the earlier ones. I've been taught the first five kata.
Since we had an odd number of students today, my partner was sensei. I always like having him for a partner; he's a great example and partnering with him somehow makes me more confident in my own abilities.
Some of the things I say after this may not make a lot of sense; I need to remind myself that this blog is as much for me as it is for other people! Writing about this stuff helps me commit it to memory and also provides a way to look up things in the past.
The first kata is really interesting to me because it really forces you to consciously think about the basics of kendo (as I see them): grip, footwork, and distance. The uchidachi attacks the shidachi with a men strike, but the shidachi steps back and then forward, striking the uchidachi's men. As the uchidachi starts to draw back, the shidachi's sword remains ready as it draws down the center of the uchidachi's face before the shidachi steps forward, raising his bokuto to high guard.
One of my main problems (as I see them) with this kata is the flow from the strike to high guard. When sensei does the first kata as shidachi, I can "see" the meaning behind the movements... and though I feel like I understand the meaning, when I do it myself, there are herky-jerky pauses that upset the rhythm. Those pauses show up in a lot of my kata, actually... I don't practice them as much as I'd like to since I can't find anyone at the kendo club at school who knows them. Well, one guy knows them, but he hasn't been going lately...
A similar problem I have is in the fifth kata, where the shidachi deflects a men strike before dealing his own, then his sword traces a line down the middle of the uchidachi's face AS he moves his body to step back into high guard. I've been using my arms to draw the line, then stopping at the bottom of the uchidachi's face before going into high guard. It should all be one fluid motion, though. Sensei worked with me on this for a bit and I feel a little better, knowing what I should do and what to look out for.
I really, really love kata.
After kata, we lined up and I made the mistake of sitting down first and putting out my gear; I was fixated on getting everything on the ground properly and completely forgot about etiquette. Oops.
I felt pretty bad about that.
At this point, Tozuka-sensei came in.
Then we went into practice mode. My third practice in armor! Little did I know that it would be my roughest so far.
Practice began with kirikaeshi; a large men strike, a push back, then four diagonal men strikes while pacing forward followed by five diagonal men strikes pacing backward. Then, to cap it off, two large men strikes with a follow-through that leaves you behind the opponent. It's a basic exercise because it involves footwork, distance, and grip. You have to match yourself to your opponent's rhythm to make sure you stay within proper striking distance.
Until now, I've pretty much always been doing it with sensei, so I'm used to his rhythm and the distance his steps take. It was really jarring doing it with the kids -- sometimes I found myself way too close, and then when I tried to compensate, way too far.
I'm also not used to being uchidachi in kirikaeshi, so my footwork in walking backward/forward while parrying is really inconsistent. It's something I need to pay more attention to and work on.
After a few rounds of kirikaeshi with different people (including two with sensei), we changed modes and started jigeiko.
Jigeiko is Japanese for "run around screaming until you feel like you're going to die".
Not really, but it should be.
It's free practice; you and your opponent go at each other trying to make valid strikes, though nobody's keeping score. It's supposed to simulate an actual match without score and time constraints. Man, did my respect for the kids shoot up after jigeiko.
Not only did they seem to have boundless amounts of energy, but the strikes I used to think were slow and clumsy from the sidelines are pretty good face-to-face. I totally got my ass handed to me by a bunch of kids.
During jigeiko, since I only had the slightest idea of what I was trying to do, I just went for men all the time, which may have contributed to me getting hit a lot. I got whacked a few times in bad places -- the arm, my thigh, just above my chest armor, and once a shinai got under my men to whack me in the throat... This isn't to say I was perfect, either. I smashed a kid's fingers once. The same kid I smacked in the ribs last time, actually... I get the feeling he hates me now.
Jigeiko lasted about an hour and a half; we rotated consistently, changing partners. Tozuka-sensei went a lot easier on me than the kids; the kids just wailed on me constantly, while Tozuka-sensei gave me openings and let me go for them.
One of the things I had problems with at the beginning was the follow-through. I'm used to simple practice for men strikes where you strike, dash past, and then turn to prepare for another strike. In jigeiko, you can't really do that; or perhaps you can, but I'm not abl e to do it. It leaves you open for more strikes as you pass.
So I got in the habit of dashing in, striking, and stepping diagonally to the side while turning to prepare for another attack. Sensei really got me into that habit after my first jigeiko with him; he kept whacking me on every open spot I had as I ran past him. Now I see the power of a 7-dan...
Jigeiko was incredibly fun. Just incredibly tiring, too.
Not only was I running and swinging, but I tried to get a good kiai (shout) out with every swing as well. I was constantly breathless and tired; at one point I leaned against the wall to keep from falling over. Things that seemed a little hard at the beginning of practice suddenly seemed nigh impossible toward the end!
I guess this just shows how out of shape I really am... a problem that should remedy itself with more practice.
Speaking of more practice, practice at the dojo is canceled for this Saturday and next Tuesday as well. I can't practice at school, either, since club activities are closed because a set of big tests is coming up soon. No kendo for a week!
Maybe I can still use the school dojo and practice by myself or something... better than nothing.
Today, after a very intense practice, after I took off my men, steam was rising from my head for a while and the kids couldn't resist poking fun at it. The dojo was very cool and I was very hot, hence the steam.
Practice started with kata review. Kendo has seven basic kata using a wooden katana, or bokuto. Each kata has two halves; the uchidachi's (teacher) and shidachi's (student). I know the shidachi's halves better for obvious reasons, though I'm able to do the uchidachi for the earlier ones. I've been taught the first five kata.
Since we had an odd number of students today, my partner was sensei. I always like having him for a partner; he's a great example and partnering with him somehow makes me more confident in my own abilities.
Some of the things I say after this may not make a lot of sense; I need to remind myself that this blog is as much for me as it is for other people! Writing about this stuff helps me commit it to memory and also provides a way to look up things in the past.
The first kata is really interesting to me because it really forces you to consciously think about the basics of kendo (as I see them): grip, footwork, and distance. The uchidachi attacks the shidachi with a men strike, but the shidachi steps back and then forward, striking the uchidachi's men. As the uchidachi starts to draw back, the shidachi's sword remains ready as it draws down the center of the uchidachi's face before the shidachi steps forward, raising his bokuto to high guard.
One of my main problems (as I see them) with this kata is the flow from the strike to high guard. When sensei does the first kata as shidachi, I can "see" the meaning behind the movements... and though I feel like I understand the meaning, when I do it myself, there are herky-jerky pauses that upset the rhythm. Those pauses show up in a lot of my kata, actually... I don't practice them as much as I'd like to since I can't find anyone at the kendo club at school who knows them. Well, one guy knows them, but he hasn't been going lately...
A similar problem I have is in the fifth kata, where the shidachi deflects a men strike before dealing his own, then his sword traces a line down the middle of the uchidachi's face AS he moves his body to step back into high guard. I've been using my arms to draw the line, then stopping at the bottom of the uchidachi's face before going into high guard. It should all be one fluid motion, though. Sensei worked with me on this for a bit and I feel a little better, knowing what I should do and what to look out for.
I really, really love kata.
After kata, we lined up and I made the mistake of sitting down first and putting out my gear; I was fixated on getting everything on the ground properly and completely forgot about etiquette. Oops.
I felt pretty bad about that.
At this point, Tozuka-sensei came in.
Then we went into practice mode. My third practice in armor! Little did I know that it would be my roughest so far.
Practice began with kirikaeshi; a large men strike, a push back, then four diagonal men strikes while pacing forward followed by five diagonal men strikes pacing backward. Then, to cap it off, two large men strikes with a follow-through that leaves you behind the opponent. It's a basic exercise because it involves footwork, distance, and grip. You have to match yourself to your opponent's rhythm to make sure you stay within proper striking distance.
Until now, I've pretty much always been doing it with sensei, so I'm used to his rhythm and the distance his steps take. It was really jarring doing it with the kids -- sometimes I found myself way too close, and then when I tried to compensate, way too far.
I'm also not used to being uchidachi in kirikaeshi, so my footwork in walking backward/forward while parrying is really inconsistent. It's something I need to pay more attention to and work on.
After a few rounds of kirikaeshi with different people (including two with sensei), we changed modes and started jigeiko.
Jigeiko is Japanese for "run around screaming until you feel like you're going to die".
Not really, but it should be.
It's free practice; you and your opponent go at each other trying to make valid strikes, though nobody's keeping score. It's supposed to simulate an actual match without score and time constraints. Man, did my respect for the kids shoot up after jigeiko.
Not only did they seem to have boundless amounts of energy, but the strikes I used to think were slow and clumsy from the sidelines are pretty good face-to-face. I totally got my ass handed to me by a bunch of kids.
During jigeiko, since I only had the slightest idea of what I was trying to do, I just went for men all the time, which may have contributed to me getting hit a lot. I got whacked a few times in bad places -- the arm, my thigh, just above my chest armor, and once a shinai got under my men to whack me in the throat... This isn't to say I was perfect, either. I smashed a kid's fingers once. The same kid I smacked in the ribs last time, actually... I get the feeling he hates me now.
Jigeiko lasted about an hour and a half; we rotated consistently, changing partners. Tozuka-sensei went a lot easier on me than the kids; the kids just wailed on me constantly, while Tozuka-sensei gave me openings and let me go for them.
One of the things I had problems with at the beginning was the follow-through. I'm used to simple practice for men strikes where you strike, dash past, and then turn to prepare for another strike. In jigeiko, you can't really do that; or perhaps you can, but I'm not abl e to do it. It leaves you open for more strikes as you pass.
So I got in the habit of dashing in, striking, and stepping diagonally to the side while turning to prepare for another attack. Sensei really got me into that habit after my first jigeiko with him; he kept whacking me on every open spot I had as I ran past him. Now I see the power of a 7-dan...
Jigeiko was incredibly fun. Just incredibly tiring, too.
Not only was I running and swinging, but I tried to get a good kiai (shout) out with every swing as well. I was constantly breathless and tired; at one point I leaned against the wall to keep from falling over. Things that seemed a little hard at the beginning of practice suddenly seemed nigh impossible toward the end!
I guess this just shows how out of shape I really am... a problem that should remedy itself with more practice.
Speaking of more practice, practice at the dojo is canceled for this Saturday and next Tuesday as well. I can't practice at school, either, since club activities are closed because a set of big tests is coming up soon. No kendo for a week!
Maybe I can still use the school dojo and practice by myself or something... better than nothing.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Kendo XVII -- Hitting Children
My second time wearing armor.
It seems like my feelings about my kendo tend to go up and down with each practice session. Today was definitely a down.
I don't like hurting people; that's one of the reasons aikido appealed to me so much initially -- it promised the art without the violence. It seems odd that I would also be interested in kendo, which consists of hitting other people with bamboo swords... right?
Well, not quite. Kendo is one of the safest sports in the world; most injuries are self-inflicted from tripping or are some kind of bone/joint injury resulting from... tripping or swinging too much.
I should also say that I like kids. You know, in the grand scheme of things, there are a lot of things out there that are worse than kids. And in the grand scheme of things, there are a lot of people out there worse than kids. At least kids have the general excuse of youth and inexperience... which is also a point in their favor; they tend to be more honest about their feelings.
Well, today I felt kind of bad about my kendo because I was hitting kids... incorrectly.
In one case, the do strike, I kept missing his do entirely and hitting his ribs above the side of his do. I felt really, really bad about it, but I couldn't seem to get used to his height. Until now, I've only been practicing with sensei, who is slightly shorter than me, or other adults. Since I'm in armor, I'm supposed to practice with the kids, but it's definitely hard going -- they're all much, much shorter than I am!
I try to hold back the power on my men strikes, and I do, pretty successfully. The same on kote strikes. It's the do strikes that give me problems -- even before I put on bogu, I had pretty bad control over my do strikes.
So yeah, I walked out of today feeling like crap because I hurt a kid.
It seems like my feelings about my kendo tend to go up and down with each practice session. Today was definitely a down.
I don't like hurting people; that's one of the reasons aikido appealed to me so much initially -- it promised the art without the violence. It seems odd that I would also be interested in kendo, which consists of hitting other people with bamboo swords... right?
Well, not quite. Kendo is one of the safest sports in the world; most injuries are self-inflicted from tripping or are some kind of bone/joint injury resulting from... tripping or swinging too much.
I should also say that I like kids. You know, in the grand scheme of things, there are a lot of things out there that are worse than kids. And in the grand scheme of things, there are a lot of people out there worse than kids. At least kids have the general excuse of youth and inexperience... which is also a point in their favor; they tend to be more honest about their feelings.
Well, today I felt kind of bad about my kendo because I was hitting kids... incorrectly.
In one case, the do strike, I kept missing his do entirely and hitting his ribs above the side of his do. I felt really, really bad about it, but I couldn't seem to get used to his height. Until now, I've only been practicing with sensei, who is slightly shorter than me, or other adults. Since I'm in armor, I'm supposed to practice with the kids, but it's definitely hard going -- they're all much, much shorter than I am!
I try to hold back the power on my men strikes, and I do, pretty successfully. The same on kote strikes. It's the do strikes that give me problems -- even before I put on bogu, I had pretty bad control over my do strikes.
So yeah, I walked out of today feeling like crap because I hurt a kid.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Wearing Armor
I just wanted to add something to my thoughts about armor... so I can read this in the future and laugh at myself.
Miyasaka-sensei helped me put on his armor, then I walked out to the main room and went to sensei for approval. He smiled and nodded, then told me to go do it how I always do it. I was going to go, but Miyasaka-sensei stopped me and told me to go look in the mirror.
I really, really wanted to look in the mirror, but I'd been resisting up til then because I didn't want to look like a stupid little kid. Now that I had permission, though, it was another matter entirely! I couldn't help but grin while I walked to the mirror.
I finally looked like a real kenshi.
Miyasaka-sensei helped me put on his armor, then I walked out to the main room and went to sensei for approval. He smiled and nodded, then told me to go do it how I always do it. I was going to go, but Miyasaka-sensei stopped me and told me to go look in the mirror.
I really, really wanted to look in the mirror, but I'd been resisting up til then because I didn't want to look like a stupid little kid. Now that I had permission, though, it was another matter entirely! I couldn't help but grin while I walked to the mirror.
I finally looked like a real kenshi.
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