I always enjoy the USKA tournaments at Bakersfield. They have a local, almost family feel to them. At the same time, depending on the division, the competition is usually good enough to be challenging, fun, and sometimes fierce.
We had ten competitors from our dojo, and five competitors from our "mother" dojo in Santa Maria. We took back quite a pile of trophies.
The tournament experience has changed dramatically for me over the years. I remember the early days---trying to videotape and photograph each of my children as they competed while, at the same time, trying to keep "warmed up" for my own turn in the ring. I remember the long time spent in bracketing, getting to know my fellow competitors and forming ongoing friendships and friendly rivalries.
Now, much of the tournament is about judging. It's frustrating, as an instructor, not to be able to see my students compete. It's more frustrating not to see my own children, or to catch only a few glimpses
of a kata or a sparring match across the gym. Tournaments are far more busy for me now, but busy in a different sense. I enjoy what I'm learning as my experience grows as a judge. I view judging as a way of
giving back, of expressing my gratitude to the USKA for what an important role they have played in our family life over the past few years, for providing such a great forum for learning and safe, healthy competition. The frustration is a small price to pay. I'm glad to be able to help make the tournament experience a good one for the other competitors, especially the new ones.
Yesterday morning, I arrived tired and not feeling too well. I was so tired (the coffee I'd just chug-a-lugged hadn't hit my system yet) that I didn't even notice that my own son was in one of the divisions I was supposed to judge---until he stood up as the first competitor of that division. I quickly swapped rings with another judge, feeling rather foolish for my lack of alertness.
That quickly got me awake.
My own time to compete didn't come until after all the kyu ranks had competed. I've had to stop sparring because of my biceps tendinitis. As long as I "ice" up my shoulder and upper arm with Bio-Freeze and take
two Advil before competing, I've been able to make it through my bo kata and empty-hand kata without, as I joke, my arm falling off.
Yesterday, I did an awkward move with the bo. I managed to complete the weapons kata, and felt fairly good about how I did, but my shoulder did not share my positive feelings.
I dropped out of the empty-hand kata competition.
Being sidelined is frustrating. It's not that, at this level, I'm a particularly strong competitor. In fact, the few black belt women I've faced so far have been way, way ahead of me in terms of experience,
technique, knowledge, and athletic ability. Competition was never entirely about the trophies for me. In a way, I now feel as if I'm starting over again. At the beginning of my competitive "career", I really never expected to place, and each win was a delightful surprise.
I enjoy testing myself, even as I struggle with fits of nerves before and during each competition. There is, for me, each time an amazement that I am stepping into a martial arts ring, facing judges, testing my
mind, body, and spirit. Each time is a success, a triumph on some level, no matter how I do.
As an instructor, I am aware of setting an example for healthy competition. It's brought a new element to the tournament experience.
