After A While...

As I sit here, my hips aching and bruises in places that I didn’t know I even had places, there’s a temporary reprieve from the last 12 days.

I’ve just finished the final exam for the General Instructors Course, or GIC. This is run by Krav Maga Global and, if you pass it, means you become an instructor for the organisation and obtain at least a Graduate 1 grade (after all, you have to be at least a G1 to teach Practitioners 1 to 5). There are myths, rumours and even substantiated claims of some GIC candidates passing out with a G2 or even a G3 patch, some of which were not even a P5 when they went in.

My body is, to put it politely, completely f**ked. This was the second part of the training. In April up in the Gold Coast of Australia, I did part 1. That was the initial chunk, the first half. The reason that KMG no longer do the course Monday to Saturday with Sundays off, is that 24 days in a row is unsustainable for anyone except badasses who have just come out of the army or those who run ultramarathons for a hobby. 

After 10 weeks off, we then came back to Melbourne and began phase 2. Another 12 days. I have been pushed both physically and emotionally to my absolute frigging limits. I’ve felt like giving up, I’ve taken cocktails of painkillers, I’ve eaten like a pregnant Sumo wrestler and not put on an ounce in fat. Seven to eight hours a day of fighting training. Not just learning HOW to fight but learning how to teach OTHERS to fight….and also how not to.

Having to learn technical skills, then write down the technique, then have to teach it. It’s been beyond hard. This was a course I came into knowing it would be something to test my limits. I nearly didn’t come back for the second part, seriously considering “losing” my passport so I could get my non-refundable, return ticket from London to Melbourne refunded. 

As the days went by, in both phases, I gritted my teeth and marked off little points of victory.

Survived the first day. Whoopee!

Got through the first quarter (3rd day). Awesome!

Got to the end without being injured to the point of having to withdraw! Brilliant!

We also had homework to do almost daily. Lesson plans, theory revision and also a test on Krav that we were obliged to spend a great deal of time doing properly with a pass mark of 75%. I got 88% and momentarily felt immortal. 

Then we had the teaching test. I was assigned “Release from static choke from behind”. I had to teach this to six of my peers. I passed that test too and my hopes were high for the grading on the final day. 

There had been 15 of us but one person had to drop out due to injury. 14 candidates on test day. I shouted “Who else hasn’t got a partner?” and I got the huge Serbian guy. 

We started and it went on and on and on. After 4-ish hours we began sparring and my badass partner virtually handed me my ass. Seriously don’t think I’ve ever been roundhoused in the head in a standing position before. Determined to at the very least, stand my ground, I did exactly that, too tired and too inflexible in the back hips to try and retaliate in kind. As we tumbled to the floor my adrenalin kicked in and I could hear myself yelling “F**K YOU! YOU F**KING C**T!!” before he got me in a choke hold and I had to tap out.

The sparring and ground fighting finally came to a close and with my clothes sodden in sweat and my hair hanging so far over my face that I had about 30% visibility, I joined the other guys for the icing on the cake. 50 push ups, 60 sit ups, 70 squats and 20 brownies (imagine if a burpee decided to become a Satanist…THAT’S a brownie).

Staggering off the mats I gulped down literally about 2 litres of water and forced granola bars and glucose gel into my bruised stomach. The Serbian guy was next to me and I said “Don’t take the swearing personally, I don’t really think you’re a c**t”. 

He chuckled and said, wiping sweat from his forehead, “It’s OK, you needed the adrenalin rush”.

Now…about half an hour after the final test has ended, we are sat facing the examiner. Franklyn Hartkamp. Expert level 4 in KMG and a part of the Global Instructor Team. A nice guy, with a sense of humour but I have no illusions about any one of us being given the GIC unless we deserve it. 

He starts with my Serbian partner and after brief feedback tells him he passed and we all clap and smile at the guy, pleased for him yet still cacking it for ourselves. Franklyn then moves to another guy, feedback given, constructive criticism forthcoming and he too has passed. Then it’s the guy’s partner and yet another pass. As Franklyn moves around the candidates, he is giving the feedback to the partners who trained and fought together in the test. This sets off my internal alarm bells. I was bypassed after my Serbian roundhouser buddy. I think maybe I haven’t made it after all.

The feedback moves on and on, each person being told they’ve passed and all of us clapping and offering words of congratulations. Then finally someone has failed. The feedback is fair, the tone level and friendly but Franklyn says that some more time is needed before this person can retest. I see the crestfallen look in their eyes and the hurt and pain and realise that feeling is something I’m going to be getting soon. But I hold out hope that maybe….maybe not.

Finally everyone else has had their feedback. 13 passes, 1 fail. Franklyn says “Is there anybody else?” and I raise my hand.

He looks at me and after a slight pause says, “After a while I stopped writing”.

I know in that moment that it’s over.

I had kind of guessed this would happen. I’ve been backpacking for the last 8 months and my training has been, to put it mildly, sporadic. While travelling in Australia and New Zealand I trained now and then. While in Greece with my father I would travel once a week-ish to a club 57 miles away  to train. I hadn’t done enough and deep down I knew that. I decided to go for it anyway though, determined not to be Schrodinger’s Pussy.

I feel calm, not upset or bitter like I imagined I might. Franklyn compliments me on my theory and teaching results and says that he’d like me to wait at least a year before trying again for the grading. You are allowed 3 fails of techniques on a GIC grading. I clearly hurtled past that number if he stopped taking notes or evaluating me. I thank him for his feedback and say that I accept 100% responsibility for failing. I also add that I’ll be back. Franklyn smiles and puts on a Schwarzenegger accent, repeating “I’ll be back!!”

We all then stand up and those who passed get their T-shirts, G1 patches and certificates. Excitedly they rip open the packaging and pull the shirts on. It reminds me of Christmas morning. I feel a little sad but resigned to the situation, knowing that this isn’t personal and with enough work I can come back, try again and pass.

Then the guys start posing for photos and me and the other failee are stood at the side. I have to turn away at this point, the disappointment and the realisation of what I’ve failed to achieve hitting me hard. 

I move to the changing room and a few minutes later a couple of guys join me, both saying they’re sorry and shaking my hand. I tell them I’m pleased for them and I mean it. I’ve trained with them for just shy of a month and they deserve what they’ve achieved.

After a few goodbyes I make my way back to my lodgings. My friends there initially refuse to believe I failed but cheer me up with hugs and reassurances about the future. 

I get a shower and change and then head back out for the final dinner with my fellow trainees. The mood is good, and although Franklyn couldn’t make it we send him some photos via WhatsApp and wolf down steak and ice cream in a great, riverside restaurant. The Serbian guy sits next to me and grinning, points to a cut on his lower lip. “You did that”, he says.

“Seriously? I actually landed one on you?”

He smiles again and replies “Yes, you fought well”.

After a few hours I say my final goodbyes to the guys and go home. I sleep until about 12pm the next day and the day after I’m on a plane home. 13 hours to Abu Dhabi, 7 hour stopover then a further 7 hours to London. 

Hubba! Hubba!

My body aches all over, my hips feel like they are at least 20 degrees out of alignment. My appetite is still raging and now I have about a 30 hour journey ahead of me to get home. 

I took GIC and I failed it. Of the initial 15, one guy had to stop due to injury. Me and one other failed the final test.

Was it worth it?

Of course it was!

Greatly Increased Cardio

 On April 15th I finished the first half of Krav Maga Global’s General Instructors Course. 

This was 12 days of 8 hours per day of solid training. We kicked off at 8.30am every day, broke for lunch at 12.30, continued at 2pm and finished (usually) between 5 and 6.

I had been told, way before I even applied for it, that this was a Generic Instrument of Cruelty. Designed to test you to your physical limits and make certain that you not only knew the Krav Maga syllabus from P1 to P5 almost perfectly BUT that you were of a level of ability equal or greater to a G1.

I had kept fit in the weeks leading up to the GIC. Running, moderating & monitoring my diet and going on lots of lovely long walks. The Greater Intake of Carbs that I was told to be expecting once the training started, had me weaning myself off sugary treats, ice cream and fast food. I tried very hard to get into a system of living that would Give Intensive Care when it came to crunch time on April 3rd.

I had also signed up to the Krav camps in Gold Coast, that were due to run in the 3 days leading up to the GIC. This got cancelled due to Cyclone Debbie** and I then had 72 hours to kill in Broadbeach Waters, just up the road from where we would be training. I decided to Get Into Cycling, buying a 99 dollar bike from K-Mart and trying to keep everything on an even keel before we met Expert level 4, GIC instructor Rune Lind.

A friend of mine who has taken and passed the GIC said to me that “If you get up on day 3, then you know you want to continue”. While day 1 was hard, I left feeling satisfied with how the day had gone. Day 2 I was still buzzing and only slightly sore BUT true to predictions…day 3 was where the pain began.

The body needs time to recover from a serious beasting and the ONLY guy I know on the course who claimed to have relatively little problem with the regime was a bloke who had been training 3 hours a day for the 6 months prior to GIC commencing. Going Isotonic Crazy, wasn’t my way of prepping for this, however I wished that I had after a little while.

Day 4 and onwards my body and mental state fluctuated between abject pain and a determination to continue. This course is HARD.

Getting Into Character on day 5 and I was tired beyond belief. One good thing about having the bicycle was that I could cycle to and from training, loosening up my sore muscles a little bit before we got stuck in. 

Learning Krav Maga while also pausing for lectures on how to teach it, means that your mind and body are both being pushed to limits as you have to be able to sit, listen and take notes while sweaty, bruised and tired

The age range of the guys on the course ranged from an amateur boxer aged 21 to a retired soldier aged 56. Levels of ability were P1 to G3…and that was just KMG or IKMF certifications. Some people held high ranks in other disciplines and martial arts. There was only one female attendee.

In the early days we were joined by several existing, recently qualified GIC instructors who were utilising the “free top ups” factor of the course, meaning anyone who’s graduated may come back to take parts 1 or 2 again…as often as they want. 

Grinning Instead of Cursing when the workouts and techniques became painful, proved to be a slog. I’d known this course would be tough but I had never imagined just how much.

Some of the candidates would sleep after lunch, just a light nap. I tried this only once, fearful of having a Genuine Insomniac Collapse, and realised it wasn’t for me. Getting Into Character after 90 minutes of eating and sleep…not something I could get used to.

Lunch consisted of two cups of filer coffee from the local 7-Eleven plus a big, fuck-off salad with a jumbo sized tin of tuna mixed in. Some of the other guys were eating meals that would have satisfied two or three “normal” human beings.

As we moved through they days there were markers used to tick off the passage of time. Day 3 was the Determinator. Days 4 or 5 was where Rune had joked that we had the right to bring in a “bag of wingeing” as the soreness and potential injuries would be at a peak by this point. Day 6 would be where our bodies began to get used to what we were putting them through. Day 6 was also the much anticipated “halfway point” (until some sod pointed out that it was technically only the “quarterway point”) while Day 9 meant 3/4 gone and Day 10 was double figures.

By Day 11 we hadn’t done any sparring and I thought we’d got away with it. Bringing my 16oz Gloves In a Carrier bag every day, this was the one piece of kit I’d not used. Then, at about 5pm on the 11th day, Rune casually told us to get gloved up. We then had about 20 to 25 minutes of full on fighting, with variations being thrown into the mix. First partners had to choose one to defend only, while one attacked. I was with an amateur kickboxer who’d trained for about 15 years. As I was the defender I kept getting booted in the head and he basically handed me my arse. The numbers being odd, we had a “free radical” who could walk up to any existing pair and choose one of them to fight with, while the unwanted protagonist would then assume the FR’s mantle and bugger off looking for someone else to have a scrap with. 

After the exhaustion factor had been reached, passed and then reachieved…Rune then put on Robbie William’s song “Let Me Entertain You” and said brightly “Fight until the song finishes, do not change partners”.

I can safely say that this experience has finally cured any and all phobias I had about sparring.

Through stick defences, groundwork and seemingly endless drills, the Guttural Intense Cursing got louder and more profane as we soldiered on. 

Something that occurred with the predictability of jet lag was the “brain overload” meltdown that occurred on numerous occasions. This was basically when you would be able to do relatively complex or new techniques…but forgot the basics. Illustrating very clearly the importance of drilling stuff over and over again to integrate it into muscle memory I found myself suffering from amnesia over how to do a forward roll, a backward roll and an outlet stance. For the outlet, Rune actually had to take my left hand and move it to the correct position. I felt like sneaking off and having a little cry in a corner somewhere but recovered, carried on and after a few minutes asked Rune if I could have a “word”.

When I confessed my Girly Intention to Cry he smiled and said “It’s not just you. There’s at least one other person in here who feels the same way. It’s day 12. your brain is full, it can’t take any more information”.

Injuries were minor but present in about 2/3 of the assembled crew. I messed up my neck doing the joyful Rebirthing exercise (basically the shield wall attack from Battle of the Bastards in Game of Thrones…but without the spears) and had pain in my left hip and left knee. Other guys were wearing sports braces & bandages and as we lined up for the initial Kida each morning, it started to more and more resemble the “after” photos from a St John’s Ambulance medical journal. 

Even on the last day we didn’t get a respite from the regime. Breaking earlier than normal due to a public holiday affecting public transport, Rune had us spend most of the time doing grading-esque drills, asking us to perform specific techniques. By the end of it we were all running on fumes and met Rune in the back of the room for private feedback before heading out.

That night I fought off the Genuine Intention to Crash and went out with the guys for a meal and some beer. Everyone was sore, everyone was tired but we’d had a good time and had made it through without anyone having to drop out due to injury or fatigue.

Pain and exhaustion and only half done.

Was it worth it?

COURSE IT WAS!!!

No Dessert

I recently got accepted on to the General Instructors Course for Krav Maga Global.

This one is running in Australia with part 1 in the Gold Coast and part 2 in Melbourne.

After many years of doing Krav (7 to be precise) I have already attained both P5 and done the Kids Instructor Course but felt it was time to take things to the next level.

I trained with SGS Krav Maga in Sydney from November to January and the club’s owner Steven Kratsas agreed to endorse my application. Later on, I met the head of KMG Australia & New Zealand, Adam White who said it was a ‘go’.

Super excited doesn’t describe how I’ve felt since my application was accepted. 

The chance to attain not only G1 but to actually be a qualified instructor…something that as recently as a year ago I would have considered beyond my capabilities. 

To wear the “INSTRUCTOR” T-shirt and fulfill my dream of being able to teach Krav Maga to children as more than an Assistant KIC Instructor (the official title given to those who hold KIC without GIC).

To feel proud at what I’d achieved and know that I had reached a pinnacle that I had once considered to be as remote as the summit of Mount Everest.

So…I booked my flights and accommodation around part 1. Booked my flights but not the accommodation (yet, anyway) around part 2 and started revising the curriculums for P1 to P5 and also making sure I stay fit (I’m currently backpacking so am not attending Krav regularly and have to be creative in my fitness regime). I’ve also started making notes on what I eat each day and how much food I shove down my cake hole.

I’ve heard GIC described in many way. An instructor I know in the UK said it was like “university meets a car accident” and one said that “if you get up on day 3 then you know you intend to continue”.

All in all I am ready yet nervous for the upcoming 12 days of GIC part 1.

But…

Just before the GIC starts there is a P & G camp running in Gold Coast. Run by Rune Lind and Adam White this is a 3 day training camp where people from P0 to G4 can be immersed in Krav Maga. 

I consulted Adam White as to whether it was OK to do this as well and he said it was up to me.

So, I thought about it and procrastinated and then booked the course. As a P5 I’m eligible for the G camp and have never trained at G level before. 

Now….

The online booking form had various bits to fill out such as whether you wanted accommodation (nope) or what size T-shirt you required (M). The big question for me though was “do you want to grade?”

Having taken P5 only 4 months previously to the G camp I am ineligible to actually test for G1 but I mulled over the idea of doing it as a “dummy run” in preparation for GIC. After all, the extra tuition would be great and it would be superb to get an assessment of my abilities up to that point.

Then I thought about it a little more objectively.

After 2.5 days of training at a G camp (with the other half of day 3 for the grading) my body will be tired and I will have worked hard. My P5 grading was incredibly hard work and I’ve no doubt that G1 will be even tougher.

I’ll get invaluable G level tuition from 31st March to 2nd April and then on the 3rd, will jump into even more immersive training. I have no desire to prove that I’m “hard” or that I’m a Terminator-esque warrior of the mats in order to make it through everything on offer. 

End of the day, Krav Maga is about being level headed and being able to walk in peace, not limp home in pieces.

I want to be tired yet happy to face a new day when we wrap up G camp. I don’t want to risk getting injured or knacker myself out in a grading that is superfluous to what I need right now. As awesome as it would be to do a ‘dry run’ and be told that, had it been a real test, I would have passed, it is a toy that right now I don’t need to play with and can be left in the box.

I want to start GIC fit and ready, not fighting sleep and yearning for coffee.

The G camp is the main course, the grading is the dessert.

As much as I love dessert, this time I think I’ll skip it and have an early night.