Cramping My Steel

Last night, for the first time in about 8 months I went back to Krav Maga.

In September I had a knee operation to repair a snapped ACL in my left leg. For 6 weeks I was hobbling around like Blind Pew, my knee feeling like it had sunburn and taking prescription painkillers.

After a couple of months I was able to get in the passenger side of a car without doing advanced Yoga and ongoing physiotherapy plus 3-monthly consultations with my 'specialist' at the hospital meant we could get an accurate time frame for convalescence.

Problem was that Mr Robertson (a surgeon so important that he had transcended the realms of Doctor and had no prefix to denote his status, merely the knowledge that he was walking godlike amongst lesser men) specifically said to me:

"Back in training in Spring 2016 we hope. But don't even THINK about grading again until at least October."

This kind of stung.

I mean, I know he'd spent 2 hours scraping gristle out of my knee cap and stitching back the flapping ends of my busted anterior crusciate ligament. I know he was a renowned specialist in knee surgery. And I knew that he was speaking the truth.

But....there was that other part of me that wanted so much to just go back to Krav.

I've stayed in touch with my club, blogging on gradings, seminars and popping in occasionally to say hi. They knew I wanted to come back but agreed with my doctor's advice that I should wait out my convalescence period until I was fit for duty again.

Guys who were taking P3 when I took my P4 (my last successful grading) were now P5s. Newbies I'd never met were P1 or P2. New faces were on the mats every time I showed up.

8 months is a long time to be spent laying on the sofa watching Breaking Bad and eating Jaffa Cakes. My fitness has dribbled away, my belly has started pushing against my jeans in an uncomfortable fashion and overall I have felt grumpy at my inaction and grounding.

Last week I visited the club and Bartosz, the Chief Instructor said to come back in on Tuesday 26th to see how I got on. Geared up and ready to go I got to the venue 20 minutes early and saw Bartosz pull up in his van. Upon seeing me he started chuckling to which I replied "You're not exactly boosting my confidence here!"

As we got into the training I realised just how hard this was going to be. My stamina was down, my cardio was almost non existent and it was only my determination that kept me going to the 10th push up or the 20th burpee. We then moved on to kicking and punching combos with a melon bag. My front kick was lacking, mainly due to it being my left. Upon seeing the lack of power, Bartosz told me to stick to punches only as the leg wasn't up to repeatedly kicking just yet. Moving on to stick defences I could again feel the lack of fitness and knew their were gaps in my knowledge and rust on what I thought I knew.

Before when I both trained and graded, I would find reserves of energy and use them to finish what I was doing. No matter how tired or sore I was, I was always able to draw from a well somewhere. Now, I found that that the wells had run dry. There is a difference between running on adrenalin and keeping on solely because you know that things can only get better next time and the times after that.

We finished the training with 20 push ups. Twist was that we formed a line and then got onto the floor, with our arms touching, meaning that it was a genuine "push up" each time and not a "push sideways". This was more tiring after the 90 minutes that had preceded it and worse (albeit for less time) than my last two gradings for P4 and P5.

I went to the supermarket on the way home and wondered why I was getting funny looks off the staff. Later I realised that I'd been so knackered I'd forgotten to take my groin guard off. Walking around in a posing pouch is one way to get attention.

Once I hit the sack I woke up about 20 minutes later to excruciating cramps in my inner thighs. The pain was unlike any other cramp I'd ever experienced and it took walking and down the stairs repeatedly to shift it. I returned to bed a short time later, treating my body like an unexploded bomb as any movement could trigger the cramp again. It was only the next day when I finally found out that this unpleasantness was caused by the high kicks I'd been doing (or any kicks above knee level tbh) that had overstrained the pudgy muscles that had only faced cycling and yoga in the 48 weeks since I last had a groin guard on.

Today it has been a case of feeling tired with a huge appetite spike. I am bruised. My inner thighs hurt from the cramping. I'm swearing every time I bend over and I'm walking like my trousers have too much starch in them.

Was it worth it?

Course it was.

Extreme Knife Defences Seminar

My review of Krav Maga Midlands' seminar with Marcin Reszka on 13th February.

New Krav Maga Book Out Now...

Available now in paperback and on Amazon Kindle.

My latest book.

Night Parks 5: The Robbery

Review I wrote for Friday 17th July's Night Parks seminar, run by Bartosz and Russell from Krav Maga Midlands for the club's blog page.

A whale of a time had by all. (Click the photo).

Chav Maga

In the 4-ish years I've been doing Krav Maga, I've only had to use it twice in "real life". Once was this incident while I was on holiday last summer in Crete. Very minor, no harm done and being drunk I fumbled what I intended to do but it worked anyway.

Today it happened again and like before, it wasn't a heroic battle between good and evil with me standing howling over the twitching corpse of my vanquished foe. It was solved through the lower scales of conflict resolution that we are taught in Krav training.

I was at work (I deliver stuff) and met a particularly unpleasant woman who refused to sign for a parcel for her neighbour and got lippy about various trivial stuff before marching back indoors with the words "I'm not arguing with you about it."

As I finished what I was doing I pulled the communal door to the apartments shut and it closed with a loud bang. Not my intention, but shit happens.

As I got to the street there was an elderly couple standing near my van and the woman asked if I'd mind posting a letter for her.

"Well we don't normally but no problem my dear, I don't mind doing...."

"DO YOU MIND NOT SLAMMING THE FRONT DOOR LIKE THAT?!! THE BABY'S ASLEEP!"

I turn to find the gobby woman standing fuming in the driveway leading to her flat. The old couple look embarrassed and I feel my temper fraying.

"I'm not talking to you, go away." I turn my back on her and resume my chat with the old couple.

"DON'T SLAM MY FUCKING DOOR LIKE THAT, I'M REPORTING YOU TO YOUR COMPANY!!"

She slams the communal gate harder than I shut the front door, presumably determined to make certain her baby stays awake. I lose my rag, and yell after her:

"Piss off you fucking silly cow!!!"

As I turn back to the old couple who are now silent with confusion and embarrassment, the gate creaks open again and I'm confronted with the sight of her boyfriend. He has a baseball cap on, baggy shorts, and a large, faded tattoo on his neck. He's also got his right hand stuck to the depth of his wrist...down the front of his shorts.

"What'd you say?" he mumbles.

I take my earphones from around my neck and put them in my pocket and sigh "You ARE joking me?!"

"What'd you say? The baby's sleeping, don't slam the fucking door like that!!"

His atrocious missus then starts the predictable mantra.

"Leave it babe, babe...leave it...come inside babe!"

"You mind not holding your dick when you're talking to me?!"

He moves closer, still with his hand firmly gripping his knob and I take one step back with my right foot and put my arms up in the best 'Geoff Thompson' stance, left arm forward, right arm half extended, palms up.

"Back off, just stay away."

"Babe, come in. Leave it babe!"

"What you gonna do?!" he smirks, getting closer, when he makes contact with my left hand I shove him away.

"FUCK OFF!!!"

He backs off but continues making threats as he moves away towards the gate. "What you gonna do?"

"Seriously mate, just get lost. What YOU gonna do anyway? Wipe the hand you've had your cock in on me?"

He glares at me from the gate with his hand still cuddling his genitals and then mumbles something more about what I think I'm going to do then disappears.

I turn back to the old couple, who have their mouths open silently.

"Sorry about that ladies and gentlemen. More than happy to post your letter for you my love, you have a good day."

Fragility

Last night I momentarily thought I'd dislocated/ broken/ sprained another finger during Krav training.

Last October I got booted in the left hand and my pinky went a bit banana shaped. I was out of training for more than 2 months and missed both P camp and my P5 grading as a result.

All for the least useful appendage on my body.

Yesterday we were doing knife threats and as I whirled to knock the hand of my partner away with my right arm, I somehow managed to jab my ring finger right into the bone on her forearm. Unlike the last time, this bloody hurt and in between cursing I frantically ripped off my MMA mitt in case I had another busted joint.

Could still flex and grip but it hurt like a bastard, so I stepped out for a minute to see how I felt and let the pain ebb. This was at 8.20, with the class wrapping up at half eight. We were about to move to a final pressure drill, something I nearly always enjoy.

I had a choice to make.

Either....

1). Go back in, "sucking up" my discomfort and pain and give it my all.

2). Take a back seat and miss the final drill, in case I tempt fate too far and end up really hurting myself.

Something I've realised in the 3+ years I've been doing Krav is that it is very easy to get hurt, either by mistake, misfortune or bad technique application. The human body is a delicate machine and toes & fingers are fragile little things. I've done gradings up to P5 with some severe fighting and an exhaustion factor that is hard to imagine...but ultimately we are padded up with shin guards, gum shields and 16oz gloves. There is a sense of caution present at all times.

Krav teaches us to be more than just people who fight. It talks about walking or running away if we can when faced with potential violence and above all putting your safety first. While I always imagined injuries sustained in training would be for reasons of macho sparring or taking on a bigger opponent, a wonky finger caused by a 16 year old girl wasn't on my list of heroic wounds. However, as I stood there with an ice pack clenched around my throbbing digit watching the others throwing punches for a tabata workout...I realised as my breathing returned to normal that I'd made the right decision

My body needs respect too and listening to it when it starts complaining is a discipline that I need to keep practicing. I've seen a G5 instructor get a cracked rib during a grading and simply carry on. While I have a lot of respect for him for that, part of me still wonders what would have happened if he'd got thumped in the same rib twice.

We've all seen boxing matches where one or both fighters are busted up, eyes like slits, faces purple and puffy but they keep going out of dogged determination.

I don't do Krav to prove I'm tough. I do it to keep fit and to give me an "edge" if I'm ever attacked on the street for real. I like the skills Krav gives me but as I've grown older I feel less and less like I need to prove I'm "hard" by going beyond my own pain threshold and then carrying on. And by that I mean pain from injury, not pain through exhaustion or fatigue.

Adrenalin is one thing but there's a time where I would rather feel embarrassed and disappointed but not carry on, than do something that might put me out of training for a lot longer.

Unique Practitioners Part V: Goz Gozwellings- P1

Goz Gozwellings is a Krav Maga practioner with KMM, practicing at the Solihull and King's Heath branches of the club. She also works in an all male prison.

"So how long have you been a member of Krav Maga Midlands?"

"Since a year last November."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I work in the prison service. I'm custodial manager rank, which is the equivalent of an Inspector in the English police. I line manage 25 prison guards directly and I work in the security and intelligence department so I also run the gaol on a rota basis. The prison has over 1000 category B and C prisoners, so I have to run a prison with that many people."

"Do you ever have to go hands on with the prisoners? To be in actual physical contact with them?"

"Yes, you do. We're trained in control and restraint which are techniques we have to refresh every year. The aim now is also on de-escalation techniques rather than going hands on but even putting a "hand on" as in putting a hand on someone to make them move is classed as physical contact and we have to fill out paperwork to justify it. At my rank I normally turn up at the end and oversee the incident and assess what's going on."

"Just to set the scene for those reading this, how tall are you?"

"I like to kid myself I'm 5 feet 4, but I'm really five two if I'm lucky."

"What category prisoners do you deal with?"

"We take all sorts. Some times we get uncategorised prisoners and they get cat A. That's the highest security prisoner you can get. Highest risk to the public. As a rule we're category B which is one down from maximum security. We have remand, sentenced, lifers. We have cat D who return because they fail their open conditions. We can have every type of prisoner. It's a very mixed population."

"With over 1000 prisoners, how many guards work in the prison on a shift?"

"Well, the unit I used to run holds 200 prisoners and and you'd normally work an SO, Senior Officer, and five. Quite often when I was a prison officer you'd get me on a spur which is half of a landing and there'd be me to about 60 which is quite average."

"Have you had any physical attacks or altercations with prisoners?"

"Yeah, I mean I've been lucky I've been in the job 12 years but I've been involved in control and restraint of prisoners. I've had prisoners square up to me. In my job, unlike in Krav, I try to use a lot of de-escalation. Sometimes you're on your own when the altercation occurs. So, over the years I've been involved in all sorts."

"Do you carry batons?"

"Yes we do. We carry the big extendable batons which are similar to the police. We don't have any CS or gas, or any stab vests or anything like that. Now the population has changed there's a lot of hand made weapons on the units, a lot of drug use so we're dealing with the same people that the police are outside but without the equipment. That's why we do have to rely on de-escalation. Also we work in closed spaces so if you're in a cell you wouldn't be able to use gas anyway. Pepper spray is used very rarely if the National Tactical Group are called in, if we have a situation that we can't deal with locally. I've been involved in hostage situation where three prisoners are in a cell or behind a barricade and we have had to use pava."

"Why did you take up Krav?"

"I always wanted to do a martial art but I didn't know what. For about 10 years I've been talking about it. It was originally nothing to do with the job. I'm a bit of a rough and tumble person, although contrary to belief I'm not actually a very aggressive person. I don't like fighting. So it's for my own personal fitness, my own personal protection but also it has changed the way I look at things at work now. So if I was on my own I wouldn't think twice to use Krav now rather than control and restraint because you can't do it with a group of people so it's more practical which is why I like it. In a cell no situation is the same. You've got bunk beds, you've got furniture, maybe weapons all sorts. It's all risk assessed but spontaneous stuff isn't, you just react."

"So has Krav helped you at work?"

"I'm more conscious now of people behind me when I'm on walkways for example. I move and scan more. When we did our last control and restraint refresher, which we do yearly, I realised just how much more practical Krav is. I work with a lot of female officers in a male prison. So the obvious thing is to disable a threat quickly. If I was on my own and I felt threatened I would use Krav now."

"The motto is 'So that one may walk in peace' after all"

"Yes, it's down to perception. My colleagues and even the prisoners now think I can take care of myself. It's part of it, how you carry yourself. It's about perception and someone backing off and leaving you alone."

"You have all male prisoners. How many of the staff are female?"

"There's a lot more now but it's still very male orientated. It used to be a job that people went into from the army. That's changed now, it's more about people skills. I also find that in a male prison, women tend to keep the peace better. As a rule prisoners are more respectful of females. When you're like me you can be an authority or mother figure. Some of them have never had the word 'no' said to them before and they've got no boundaries so you're having to almost parent some of the prisoners."

"That's interesting because I would have imagined it would be a lot of wolf whistling."

"You do get that as well. You get a lot of inappropriate behaviour and you have to obviously stamp that out and challenge it because if you don't you know that there'll play on that. They know that I'm not somebody who's easily intimidated."

"Do you think that Krav Maga should be taught to new people coming into the prison service?"

"Yes, I do. It's a lot more practical. Apart from control and restraint we also do breakaway and personal protection. For the staff and civilians it would be so much more practical. Even if it was just to shout "GET BACK!" with a knee or a kick. It's very practical and that's what I like about Krav."

"Why do you think this country has such a 'softly, softly' approach to use of force, both in the police and the prison service?"

"In this job there will always be staff who take it too far and they can almost be barbaric. They use excessive force when they don't need to and because of things that have happened in the past such as prisoners who've gone on to commit suicide or control and restraint that's gone wrong. I think that's why it changed. People can asphyxiate if they're in the wrong position. Every year our syllabus gets changed. There's techniques they take out because they're considered indecent. It's a fine line. Also there's a lot of paperwork now."

"Finally, what would your motto for life be?"

"Feel the fear, do it anyway. Push past it. I'm six feet tall in my head."

** Photos by Lance Manley and Krav Maga Midlands.

Step 5

Yesterday something finally came into view that has been hovering on the horizon like a shy teenage boy on his crush's doorstep, with a bunch of flowers on Valentine's Day.

Of all the things that I thought would help me see where I was being held back in my life, I never once imagined it would be a reunited 1980s boyband.

I was bored and flicking through channels on Youtube and for some reason one of the links in the right hand menu was "Jon Knight sings step 5". This referred to the reunited New Kids on the Block at a live gig about 5 years ago and the bit of the song "Step By Step" where each member of the band sings a "step". Danny is 1, Donnie 2, Jordan 3, Joey 4 and Jon 5.

I was mildly curious as to why this was so noteworthy as to warrant a video of its own. After all, Jon's line is simply "don't you know that the time has arrived?" I asked myself if NKOTB fans were so sad as to post a video that highlighted one bit of one song sung by one member of a quintet. Then I watched it and it became more puzzling. Once Jon sings the line the other guys jump on him like he's a striker in a World Cup soccer final who's just scored a goal. They hug him and are clearly over the moon and Jon is grinning and very happy. Checking out the comments section it turned out that this was the first time ever that Jon had sung that line at a live concert. Every other gig (and remember, that song came out in 1990 when the band were at their peak) the line was sung by Joey.

So, what is this to do with Krav? Well, I looked a little deeper into this and it turned out that Jon Knight was the reason that the New Kids split up in 1994. He left the group so they decided to call it a day. I remember them splitting up because back in the day they were the biggest band around. Bigger than One Direction or N 'Sync and rivalled only by The Backstreet Boys in later years (who they went on tour with recently).

But I digress....

In the late 80s and early 90s Jon Knight had the world at his feet. A multi millionaire by the age of about 21 he was loved by millions of screaming, adolescent girls and had his picture everywhere. From 1990 to 1991 the New Kids on the Block made ONE BILLION dollars on worldwide merchandise and netted about 25 million US dollars EACH in that same tax year. What more could a young man possibly want?

Once he quit the group he went into real estate and was out of the public eye almost completely, living on a farm and being reclusive.

It turned out that he was plagued by panic attacks and anxiety and hated being in public. The pressure and stress he felt was something he covered up as best he could. He was the "shy" one of the group and was quiet in interviews. He went on Oprah in 2001 to talk about how he felt and looked like a guy waiting for a reprieve on death row. Shaking, sweaty and almost in tears he told Oprah that he felt relaxed to which she replied "This is you relaxed?" He was clearly in immense discomfort but dealing with it as best he could. He said that once he left the band in 1994 he spent about the next 3 years sleeping and trying not to think too much. Emotionally he was a wreck. Not due to the pressures of stardom, but because something within him was hard wired to hate the sight of crowds. He said that he felt he was going to die and that the adrenalin you would usually associate with a sudden scare, was with him all the time, every day.

The face he put on for the public back when the New Kids were actually kids, was a facade. I've no doubt he had pressure put on him by the people funding the cash cow that was NKOTB, who probably couldn't give a shit about his issues. However he masked it as best he could and it ate away at him until something snapped and a guy of 23 years of age, with millions in the bank, simply rolled over and went to bed for 3 years.

That video of him singing step 5 at the age of 42 was for him a personal milestone and the other guys in the group knew that.

I have been a walking anxiety attack for much of my adult life. My tenure in the UK police was cut short by bullying but the people who did that to me had identified what they perceived as weaknesses and flaws in someone entitled to arrest other people. I lacked mental stamina and was prone to empathy. Problem was that they used underhanded and unpleasant methods to get rid of me and I have both Enhanced Emotional Memory AND a very vindictive streak if I'm mistreated.

When things go wrong my fear builds and builds until I'm creating monsters in my head. I find sleeping to be a warm and safe retreat from the horrors of life.

My father lives in the gorgeous holiday village of Plakias in Crete, Greece. He retired out there in about 1997 and the place is beyond wonderful. Blue seas, fresh fish restaurants, scuba diving, cliff jumping, cold beers, the list goes on. The first summer I spent there in 2008, I had just left the police and spent most of my time drinking myself into oblivion. I would sleep for ridiculous amounts of time, the record being 36 hours in bed with a hangover that became self pity that became a desire to simply give up. Being that pathetic felt normal and safe and the most sensible thing to do with how bad I felt.

I've never been able to simply kick back and enjoy things for the anxiety that eats away at me.

I do Krav Maga and I'm now a P4. Tonight my E1 instructor complimented me personally on my performance in class with a smile and the words "you did a good job today." I'm still floating on that but with Krav I don't enjoy myself as much as I pretend to.

I don't like sparring, a subject I've covered on here before. I get nervous just going to class and although this has dissipated over time, that prolonged Jon Knight-esque panic attack is still there. My biggest worry is that my instructor will call me out to demonstrate a move or succession of moves or a technique. I fear not understanding his instructions; that I'll get knocked on my arse; that I'll look like a dick; but most of all that everyone else will be looking at me. Like Jon said in his Oprah interview. I'd just rather go home. The stress is phenomenal. 

It's not rational or proportionate but it's there. Anxiety about being in public and being the focus of attention. I saw Jon Knight on Oprah from that 14 year old recording and it struck a chord. A guy who had wealth beyond imagining and was famous beyond belief was unhappy with his lot because of a psychological condition that he couldn't override without help.

Quite often people will say things like "Snap out of it" or "Don't be so ungrateful" or "How can you NOT enjoy this?" Thing is, if you don't then you don't and that's just how you are. Singing to millions of teenage girls and having your face on hundreds of different items of merchandise will not please you no matter how much you tell yourself that it should.

My P4 grading was far from a pleasant experience. My imagination was running riot and my stress levels were through the roof. I didn't enjoy the grading  and the closest I came to actually having a good time was when I was so tired that my anxiety faded into the nether of my exhaustion and I just had to focus on the job at hand. As it was I got a conditional pass and did better than the 20 or so guys who failed the test.

Similarly, I feel I should pretend to enjoy fighting. That I should be comfortable in the 4 bar patch and show an aura of calm and power proportionate to my level (right now I'm the highest level student regularly attending the venues I go to). I don't feel comfortable in a lot of things and I've pretended for a very long time that I am.

The equivalent for me of singing step 5 would be to choose to fight a guy bigger than me who I know is a more skilled fighter and do it because I WANTED TO and not just to prove I'm not a pansy who fluked all his gradings.

Anxiety can be a killer of progress. Honesty can thwart it.

The Butterfly Collection

On the wall in my dining room I've got my P4 certificate in a picture frame. In the corners are my patches for P1, 2 and 3. When I pass P5 the 4th patch will join the others and when I get G1 I'll start a new frame next to the existing one.

Until tonight however, I had all four patches in that frame. I never wore my patches, they went straight into that frame, like captured butterflies, forever preserved in their glory and for me to gaze proudly at over breakfast coffee and cereal before I headed out to work.

I told myself this was due to not wanting to spend time every 6 months sewing the patch on and that for me it was enough to have passed and I didn't feel the need to advertise my grade.

Truth was a little different.

To me those patches were rare, much sought after and had been achieved through nerves, training, more nerves and the milling that is an actual grading. I had to do P4 twice due to a conditional pass in the March 2014 test (I had passed with 73% but like a prospect in a biker gang, I couldn't get the "top rocker" until I'd gone that extra mile, in this case doing stick defences again, back at my own club).

The patches were like exhibits in a private museum. Something so precious that I was afraid that I'd lose them forever if I didn't treat them with reverence and respect. I didn't put them on my Krav pants because to me they were to be worshipped. Delicate things that I was so very lucky to have. On some level I think I was afraid to lose them and feared that this exchange might happen in training one night.

"Excuse me, your patch says you're P4. Can you just show me forward to backward roll please?"

"Errrr....."

The higher I rose through the Practitioner ranks, the more I felt like I had to "be" something more than I was comfortable being. I had fought so hard to get those patches that I kept them behind glass on a wall in my house, so I knew where they were and could rest assured that they were safe.

Yesterday I bought some iron on velcro strips and tonight I ironed them on both the P4 patch and both pairs of training trousers. Tomorrow I will train with the patch on my leg for the first time.

Sometimes it's harder to feel comfortable to have achieved something, than it is to actually achieve it.

Egone

I am currently reading a very informative book entitled The Little Black Book of Violence by Lawrence Kane and Kris Wilder. It has the subtitle "What Every Young Man Needs to Know About Fighting."

This book was lent to me by a fellow practitioner** at my club, Krav Maga Midlands.

While perusing it last night, something struck a chord that is fundamental to the principles of Krav, but is sometimes oh so very easy to overlook in favour of the "sexy" bits of what we do.

A preface by Rory Miller (a police sergeant in the US when the book was published) states that he believe most people reading the book will simply cherry pick the parts they like. He goes on to say, "I don't think you can see past your own ego. I think that you will risk your own life and piss away good information to protect your daydreams."

Something that has occurred to me a lot lately is how violence is best stopped by anything other than violence.

I used to be a UK police officer and the experience was soul destroying in its stupidity, lack of basic common sense and political correctness over officer safety. We weren't trained to fight, only to subdue through holding and baton strikes absolutely COULD NOT be aimed at the head, regardless of what the Bad Guy might be coming at you with at the time. We spent 6 weeks on Race & Diversity training, but a measly 4 hours on use of baton and 1 hour on how to fire pepper spray (the only weapons 95% of UK cops carry on patrol).

Krav Maga to me is what the English police should be about. It teaches you to avoid conflict. That "FUCK OFF! STAY AWAY!" shouted at the top of your lungs is the best method to try first, if you have the distance and time. Krav talks about avoidance, de-escalation and getting the hell out of there if it can be achieved. It says violence is a secondary alternative that is played only when less confrontational options won't work.

But as we know, Krav also teaches us to be as brutal as possible, as quickly as possible with the minimum of effort and THEN get the hell out of there.

It's how the English police should be. Common sense and a lack of ego but able to be baddasses if the occasion demands it.

Problem is for me that it's very easy to get enticed by the funky side of Krav. We've all seen sparring sessions at our clubs where two good fighters go hammer and tongs on each other with grace and power. I personally imagine being whoever is the victor.

Then there's the everyday interactions we see where we wonder exactly what we would have done had someone called us a "c**t" in traffic or pushed in front of us in a queue. I personally imagine them being humiliated, maybe even working in an Educational Block like Krav Vader, to make certain they keep their distance.

Problem is that my daydreams quite often cloud my judgment.

I don't like sparring cold bloodedly, although I'm not bad at it when I actually have a go. I can assess threat reasonably well and I'm not a coward. But all my badass fantasies, as I move further into Krav Maga and up the grades (currently P4). I got a busted finger 6 weeks ago in training for trying to block a stomp kick with my fingertips (I was tired, error in judgment...that I'm still paying for). Having seen movies where people simply pop dislocated joints back into place I never envisaged in a thousand years, having to be on restricted duties at work for 9 weeks, repeated visits to the fracture clinic and a special splint being made at Warwick hospital.

The least useful appendage on my entire body has affected my ability to train and means my cardio is so out of practice that I get out of breath running up the stairs.

Ego can be a killer. I've had it for most of my life and always imagined it to be a friend, mistaking it for confidence. Ego isn't confidence. Confidence is feeling that you are able to deal with what is in front of you. Ego is feeling that you can not only do it but do it perfectly and then have loads of women want to shag you because you're such an awesome badass.

It has taken 30 minutes of Yoga a day for over 2 months before I've become supple enough to kick higher than the belly button level of an opponent. My lack of flexibility was something I worked around until I became a teaching assistant at a Kiddy Krav class, and was having rings run round me by 6 year old girls (not to mention wincing as my back strained every time I bent down to pick something up during the class). I now have flexibility again, like I did in my 20s. But it's through adherence to a regime of stretching instructed by someone who knows more than me on the subject.

I see rude or threatening people in public a lot and 10 years ago I'd have jumped in to tell them to leave Mrs A or Mr B alone and be on their way. On some weird level I used to take all obnoxious behaviour as being somehow directed at me, if I was around when it happened. I think my logic was, "You know I'm here and are still doing this in front of me. Therefore you must think I'm a pansy who won't try and stop you."

Krav (plus a few other things, like getting dumped by my ex on a Skype call...just after she'd flown back to Europe on a flight I'd paid for) has helped me to mould and tailor my ego so I no longer feel that I'm a superhero. When I'm drunk, all bets are off, but over this past year particularly I've got involved in things that have made me realise my own limitations and not to be ashamed of them but work with them.

Nick Maison and Jose Silva's Air Safety seminar was a sobering experience and as close to a hijack on a plane as I ever want to get. Forget being a hero, you are lucky if you can even see straight as the "terrorists" shove you around, order you not to look at them and do their best to disorientate you. Nick even said before we started, "If any of you feel like taking on any of the hijackers then feel free...but we WILL give you a kicking and then throw you off the plane"***

Having met both Eyal Yanilov and Zeev Cohen they are both softly spoken and humble men who appear without ego BUT are badasses. After the second day of P Weekend in December I was in reception at Harlow Leisure Zone when they both left for the evening. They did not stand out at all, did not swagger and would have blended into any crowd.

Ego can be dangerous. It ties me into adolescent fantasies about vanquishing the evil hordes and being the bully hunter I always wanted to be. It's only be accepting the drab reality of my own limitations that I can now build upon that and walk through life in a way that means I will assess situations logically and with my mind, not my ego.

Egone.

--------------------------------

** Bloke is a Christian priest in his late 50s and one of the nicest chaps you could ever meet. Hell of a right hook too.

*** Actually a decommissioned 747 on the runway of Bournemouth airport. We weren't airborne.

12 Days

Last Friday we had the KMM Christmas night out. Nando's is always a favourite of mine, mainly because the local branch is 50 yards from my apartment, but also because there's something so very wonderful about lots of chicken based dishes smothered in chili sauce (not to mention the "bottomless coke").

Afterwards I said cheerio to the 15 or so guys who were about to hit the town and made my way home. During the 90 second journey I saw a couple of young ladies I didn't know and noted that one had a nice ass. She then doubled over and violently puked all over the pavement...while her friend stood there laughing.

Christmas is a time when I like to relax, forget about Krav for a bit and just chill out. Usual stuff like huge boxes of chocolates at work, mince pies with a cup of tea and trying to avoid listening to any Cliff Richard Xmas songs on the radio. Christmas is after all, a time when we feel most able to relax. I don't mean that it isn't stressful because it certainly is. However when you "do" Christmas you aren't tuned in to danger. It's a time when the most we expect is to have a headache choosing and buying presents.

Seeing that woman power vomit all over Regent Street made me realise that the negative aspects of life get a little bit worse during this time, mainly due to the amount of alcohol people shove down their necks. Been there and done that, so I'm not judging BUT if there's one thing Krav has taught me (and in particular KMM's Chief Instructor Bartosz) it's that you need to be aware of what's around you. I rarely use my  mobile phone in the street, and if I do need to make/ receive a call or even change a song on the MP3 player, I will step into a space that is enclosed or semi-enclosed and look around me first. Same at cash points, and same when getting into my car. I also lock the car as soon as I close the door**. It's not that I'm paranoid, I simply regard these steps as common cautiousness on a par with locking my front door, checking the windows are closed and making sure I've turned off the taps before I leave my home every day.

Christmas is the time when people let their guard down. It's been statistically proven that most violent crime drops notably over Christmas week (exceptions being alcohol related crime and domestic violence) and we feel that this is a time to just feel at ease.

A puking woman with a nice bum was an image that reminded me that life gets a tad silly over the festive period. Various scenarios could have sprung from that situation. Had she sprayed sick on a passerby, then there might have been a row. She might have needed help. She might have become aggressive with anyone who criticised her for honking up in public, or...., any number of things. Walking home from a Christmas meal with my Krav buddies I felt "safe" and in a good mood. I wasn't expecting danger or unpleasantness or seeing someone's alimentary canal go into spasms...because I assumed that the world was in as good a mood as I was.

What this showed me was that I need to keep my eyes open and remain aware of my surroundings, even as I look forward to turkey with all the trimmings.

I do Krav because it increases my confidence and allows me to walk in peace. Ultimately that means being aware of what's going on. There's no magic shield like in the Ready Brek*** commercial to protect me against ne'er do wells. I walk in peace because I'm conscious of my surroundings.

This doesn't get to go on holiday.

------------------------------------------

** Soon as I turn the key, the door unlocks, meaning I have to lock it again or wait until I've driven 10 yards for it to self lock. Not a perfect world.

*** 1970s commercial on TV for a porridge breakfast cereal that said it was "central heating for kids".

Multiple Attackers in a Magical Fantasy Novel

This is a scene from my latest book THE SUNDER OF THE OCTAGON, a magical fantasy adventure aimed at older children.

This scene was inspired by the idea of "What would happen if a guy who was trained to fight in a very Kravvy way was magically turned into a geriatric...BUT then magically regained his youth and turned on his multiple attackers."

----------------------------------------------------------

 An hour later Jeroth sat in the chair in his small room while Calson sat on the floor, cross legged, happily brushing away at the left boot. Jeroth looked down at his gnarled, calloused feet and winced. Glancing across at the boy he snapped, “No, no. Brush in one direction only, towards the toes. You got it now?”

Calson squinted at the boot and held it up then smiled. “Think so…”

“Good, when you’ve done that there’s…”

Before he could finish there was a mighty bang and the door crashed open. Three huge men stood in the doorway. Calson jumped with fear and leapt to his feet. Jeroth stared at them in disbelief.

“There he is, the little runt!” one of the men growled. Calson looked terrified.

“You shouldn’t steal from your betters boy!” another snarled as they pounded into the room, their huge feet making the walls shake.

Calson ran behind Jeroth and gibbered “I didn’t do nothing like. Wasn’t me.”

“Don’t lie you little wretch!” the second man said. They were all hugely powerful men and they ignored Jeroth as they advanced on the cowering, frightened boy.

Jeroth stood, his anger raised more by them ignoring him than their unwanted presence. “What do you want?”

The men stopped for a moment, looked at each other and then laughed.

“Ohh, ho. Silly old fool” the first man said sneering. “Don’t be a stupid old man, just get out the way.”

Jeroth stared at them. There was a time when he could have put all three of these men down in seconds, in a fair or unfair fight. He felt his anger rise again. Calson stood behind him, clearly terrified.

“Just go and leave us, you have no right to be here!” Jeroth shouted, his voice cracking. He brought his walking stick up and caught the middle man in the crotch with it. The man yelped and his eyes crossed as he sagged to his knees.

“Right, that’s it!” the first man snarled and drew a dagger. Before Jeroth could react the man plunged it into his chest. He grinned as the blade went through Jeroth’s jerkin.

“Gave you your chance old fool!” he hissed. Jeroth glared at him as he started to fall forwards, his hand fumbling weakly for the handle of the blade.

As the thug went to pull the knife free Jeroth’s face lit up with a blinding glow, the rays spreading rapidly down his body.

“Gods Theub, never seen your blade do THAT before!” the first thug said blinking in shock. Jeroth collapsed on the floor, his whole body shining brightly as the men looked down.

“Oh well, stranger things…and all that” Theub said and turned back to Calson. “Now look what mischief you’ve caused. You’ll pay dearly for this!”

The man on his knees struggled upright, drawing in breath in big gasps. Jeroth’s body continued to shine. “Weird” the man said shaking his head. “Get the brat outside.”

Calson squealed as Theub grabbed him by the ear and pulled him upright. As the man turned to the door a heavy hand descended on his shoulder. He turned to find a stranger glaring at him. Bearded, over six feet tall and heavily built. Theub’s dagger was sticking out from his chest.

The man looked down at the knife and with his other hand pulled it free. “Tsk, tsk” he said tossing the blade away. “We won’t be needing that now.” Before Theub could react the man punched him in the face. He flew back across the room. Calson stared in confusion at the newcomer. “Wait outside boy!” he barked. “This is not for your eyes!”

As Calson shot out the door and down the steps he heard the man laugh loudly.

“Right! Who wants to go first?” CRASH!

“No sorry, sorry…it was a mistake!” SMASH!”

“It's naughty to tell lies!!” THUD! CRASH!

“PLEASE…we’re sorry! Aahhh! No, no….!” SMASH!

“Just you two left now, tell you what I’ll fight with my hands behind my back!” THUD! CRASH! SPLINTER!

“Ha! Haa! Never said I wouldn’t use my head and feet though did I?” CRASH!

“Ugh! Stop please, we’re sorry!”

“Not as much as you’re going to be!!!” THUD! SPLINTER! CRASH!

Calson stared at the window as the noise continued. Suddenly the glass shattered and Theub came hurtling out and landed on his back in the street. He groaned and moved weakly, cuts and bruises on his face.

The bearded man came down the steps, holding his newly polished boots and whistling.

“Ahhh, that feels better!” he said pulling on his right boot and then kicking the prone figure as hard as he could. Theub groaned again. “Just what I needed,” he smiled happily, pulling on his other boot and then turning to Calson who flinched in fear.

“It’s alright boy, it’s me” he said. He held out his hands and Calson moved towards him. Jeroth quickly took him under the armpits, swung him up in the air laughing before putting him down again.

Calson stammered, “But what, what happened to you?” he asked, totally confused.

“You appear to be an ‘innocent’ as hard as that is to believe,” Jeroth replied, winking. He reached down and felt into the groaning man’s pockets, grunting with satisfaction as he found a thick leather purse. He opened it and emptied gold coins into his palm. “Time for a steak, a fine wine and clothes that fit. Maybe even to ride a horse again.” Calson stared on in amazement.

Jeroth kicked Theub again and walked off. He turned to Calson. “Well, come on lad, you saved me. You get to come too!” Calson fell in step behind him.

Jeroth began singing his favourite song. It was a song about a blackbird and a milkmaid. Life was good again. Now the Emerald Queen’s spell had been reversed.

The Kravving Dead

Artist  Phil Buckenham  specialises in zombifications.

He takes a subject and draws them as if they are a rotting, flesh eating, reanimated corpse.

Fabulous!

This one was done about 18 months ago and is me in Krav Maga gear.

I have the original on my wall at home.

Anyone wants one, Phil can be contacted via the link above.

He will also be at Demoncon 8 in Maidstone, Kent on September 14th.

KMG Air Safety Workshop

My review for Krav Maga Global UK of the Air Safety seminar (hijacking and disruptive passenger safety training) by Nick Maison (E3) and Jose Silva (G5) at Bournemouth airport on May 17th 2014.

Also check out this video by Nick and Jose for the event.