Turning the Page
Last December, shortly after earning my second degree black belt, I decided to stop formal training at my dojang. There were a number of reasons for this, an important one being a strong belief that there was nothing substantial left to learn there, either physically or intellectually. It was time to try something new and to begin to address some of the deficiencies — such as footwork, timing, grappling, and ground defense — that I’d become aware of during my years of training our particular derivative of Choi Kwang Do. It was also important that the training location be close to home, that the instructors have deep experience and enthusiasm for their art, and that the training be focused on adults.
An Internet search turned up numerous options for training diverse disciplines in my area: Brazilian jiu-jitsu, MMA, judo, Krav Maga, combatives, Kali stick fighting, boxing, and Muay Thai. Both Brazilian jiu-jitsu and boxing had been near the top of my list for quite some time. Brazilian jiu-jitsu, with its grappling and ground fighting, would be a natural complement to the karate I’d been studying for the last seven-plus years. On the other hand, in boxing I saw an opportunity to learn footwork, timing, and improve combat endurance.
I’d never really given much thought to Muay Thai until last summer when Sebastian and I attended a combatives class at the Renegade Sports Club in Virginia. We learned that not only do they train boxers at the club, but also Muay Thai fighters. Furthermore, their combatives instructor certification program requires, among other things, completing a full Muay Thai match. Unlike boxing, Muay Thai uses elbows, kicks and knees, which explains why it is also known as “The Art of Eight Limbs.” Many of its close-range techniques overlap with combatives techniques. That made an impression; if it’s good enough for Kelly McCann and his crew, then it’s definitely good enough for me.
As it turned out, and unbeknownst to me, for years I’d been living within four miles of a world-class Muay Thai fighter, instructor and training center!
First Lessons and First Impressions
In early March I decided that it was high time to stop making excuses for not taking the next step of signing up for an introductory lesson. Sebastian being home for spring break was the final push I needed, and one evening we drove to the Final Round Training Center for a Muay Thai Fundamentals class led by Matee Jedeepitak.
The gym’s small reception area has a front desk with a tablet for self check-in and leads immediately to a larger changing area with cubbies and shelves for stashing bags and shoes, as well as changing rooms with showers. Numerous medals and championship belts hang from the walls. The changing area opens on to a large, well-lit, high-ceilinged workout space with a boxing ring on one end and a large mat on the other. The boxing ring is flanked on one side with punching bags. Sebastian and I made our way to the mat that was being vacated by people who had just finished a Brazilian jiu-jitsu class. Our Fundamentals class was large, perhaps 30 people, and Sebastian and I spent the next hour doing our level best to imitate the basic punches, kicks, and footwork that Matee demonstrated, our efforts often frustrated by habits built by so many years of practicing Choi Kwang Do.
That first class was both a good workout and a very effective “teaser” for a style that, while still based on striking and kicking, had a fighting movement philosophy, strategy and execution that were markedly different from the ones we knew. Sebastian left town at the end of the week to return to school and I bought a ten-lesson pass to the gym. I’ve been to class about once per week over the past month or so, training with both Matee and one of his instructors. During a 60 minute class, I’m quite sure that I spend at least 45 of those minutes just being wrong. Completely wrong. I hold the pads wrong when it’s my turn to hold pads. I punch wrong when it’s my turn to punch. My kicks are perhaps slightly less wrong, but they’re still wrong. And let’s not even discuss the basic Muay Thai push-knee. This is what it feels like to be a beginner again and being a beginner is hard. I persevere, repeating to myself that this is good for me while trying to learn as much as I possibly can from each embarrassing moment, from each well-meaning correction and criticism.
Observations and Insights
From that very first lesson it was clear that Sebastian and I had some advantages when compared to other beginners in class. We had the obvious advantage of a nervous-system-level understanding of the mechanics of punching and kicking that comes from having thrown thousands of punches and kicks. But beyond that, years of studying another style had granted us an eye for technique and a vocabulary of movement that others lacked. We knew what to look for in the demonstrated techniques so as to better mimic them. For example, we immediately noticed that the kick demonstrated in that first class lacked the chamber that is integral to karate-style kicks. More recently, I have found myself asking sophisticated questions about stances, timing, and flanking.
The smaller classes led by Matee have been especially valuable. There’s nothing like having a master practitioner correcting your mistakes. Right away he started to help me correct two major defects, as he would define them, in my punching technique. The first was my habit of leaning too far forward when executing my jabs and crosses. It didn’t take much reflection to understand that I’d developed this habit simply because it is more powerful. But Matee’s “doctrine”, at least as I have understood it so far, is that it’s always better to be completely balanced, even if that comes with a loss of power. He believes that the loss in power is more than compensated for by being able to move in any direction at any time and strike with speed and precision.
The second major defect was that of leading a punch with a hip-drive. The hip-drive is central, almost sacrosanct, to Choi Kwang Do and the Choi ready-stance lends itself to performing a strong hip-drive. Establishing a good hip-drive is an early and persistent challenge for new Choi Kwang Do students. This hip-drive is the first movement when executing both a rear inward punch (aka a “cross”) and a front inward punch (a type of jab), though in the latter case, it’s not so much a hip-drive as it is a short counter-rotation. In any event, years of practicing a hip-drive without any corrective feedback has, for me, resulted in punches that cross far over my center line. It’s not that I hadn’t noticed this before. It’s just that I had always assumed that it was an accepted side-effect of the technique, with the secondary result being that one’s target had to be just a little bit closer.
Matee, on the other hand, teaches a fighting stance that puts one’s hips square to one’s opponent. A hip-drive from this position is nearly impossible and maximal power comes from pulling back one’s lead shoulder as the cross is unleashed. I have no doubt that a hip-drive results in a more powerful punch, which is great if one actually connects with the target. But the price of this extra power is the telegraphing of the punch, the need to be closer and so more likely to be hit, and the potential to overshoot the centerline and be off-balance in a way that takes time to recover from. From my lessons so far, a constant theme is an economy of motion that pays off in speed, surprise, and in leaving open as many options as possible for one’s next attack.
It’s interesting to consider the constraints and pressures that have given rise to the techniques in Choi Kwang Do compared to Muay Thai. Choi Kwang Do was born of a desire to create combat-inspired techniques, similar to taekwondo, which are easier on the joints than taekwondo. The idea of using them in actual combat (sparring or otherwise) was, as far as I can tell, a secondary concern. Their primary use is a way of training fitness, balance, range of motion and, if the dojang chooses to emphasize it, elements of the so-called Martial Way (bujutsu vs. budo). This all leaves one with the sense that their effectiveness in combat is somewhat theoretical.
Muay Thai, on the other hand, is more of a combat sport than a martial art; it lacks a philosophy of “developing the person.” Its techniques are constrained first and foremost by the rules for scoring a Muay Thai match. Furthermore, Matee told me that while he doesn’t like to criticize other styles, what he teaches is what worked for him in the ring. Things that didn’t work resulted in him getting knocked out.
I continue to practice Choi Kwang Do at home and find it interesting to see how, after only a handful of lessons, Muay Thai is improving my practice of Choi. I am far more aware of how balanced I am while performing patterns and I’m punching without leaning as far forward. My punches are not crossing the centerline as much as they used to. I’m even finding that my stance is consistently a little wider, something I’ve been working on for over a year.
Where to from here?
As I’ve been going to classes this past month, I’ve been giving myself permission to stop after I’ve exhausted the initial pass that I purchased. Nowhere is it written that training Muay Thai must be my “next thing.” I admit that it’s been difficult at times to leave the house to attend an 8PM class — it’s damn uncomfortable and often intimidating to be a beginner again. And while everyone I’ve met at the gym has been friendly, helpful and supportive, I have no friends interested in training with me. On the other hand, after class I feel pretty good about having gone out, faced something a little scary, and done my best. I honestly don’t know if I’ll still be learning Muay Thai a month from now. Right now I’m curious and interested, but not necessarily passionate. However I do know that “being uncomfortable” is required for meaningful growth and change. And so, at least for now, I’ll keep forcing myself to be a little uncomfortable a couple of times a week, and feel good knowing that I’m growing and changing.