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Voice of the Fox
The Newsletter of the Martial Arts Training Service

Aging Gracefully and Painfully
by Jim Nightengale
Summer 1997

I always knew I was getting older. Birthdays came and went. I got a driver's license and later a job, and later still I started to like girls. But I never really thought about actually getting old until the last few years.

Getting old is kind of like gum disease: You don't notice it until it hits you in the mouth. For most people, these chop-slapping moments are fairly mundane. The first time you get a sunburn on your scalp, the first gray hair on your chest. (These, of course, apply mostly to guys.) For me, however, these moments have often occurred in the context of martial arts.

For instance, a little while back I found that for the first time I was eligible to compete in the "masters" (meaning "old guys") division at a tournament. I thought it was a misprint in the rules. "Check this out, you guys. The masters limit is 35. That's my age. Ha ha. I ought to sign up for it just as a joke, teach 'em to proofread their rules." Only an uncharacteristic attack of good sense saved me from joking my way into a butt-kicking by a 40 year old.

Then there was my first chronic injury. "Chronic injury" is what trainers and doctors call problems that don't go away. I never even knew they existed until one morning in my 26th year when I noticed that my shoulder still hurt, even though I had injured it way back … two days ago. When I was in college, I would run six or seven miles a day, catch a nap during physics class, and train the rest of the day. I was in great shape. Today I work all day, and I'm out of shape because I don't get a chance to take that important nap.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that my current lifestyle -- sitting on my behind all day -- isn't the path to martial greatness. When the hero in a kung-fu movie is training for the climactic fight with the evil martial arts master, he crushes bamboo with his bare hands, jumps around on top of fence posts, and punches blocks of stone. (More on this intelligent practice in a later essay.) You rarely see him sitting in front of "American Gladiators," kiaiing as he forces down one more cheeseburger.

At the same time, there are a lot of things people write off to getting old that I know have other causes. For instance, when I was 17, I could sail over three elephants with my flying sidekick. On their hind legs. Today, I'd have trouble getting over a supine dachshund. A reasonable person can reach only one conclusion from this evidence: The force of gravity is increasing. I have tried to point this out to the federal government as a topic for investigation. I mean, this has got to have consequences, right?

Similarly, I can no longer run seven miles at a time. Try it yourself. You get tired a lot faster today, and seem to waddle more. My theory about space aliens extracting the oxygen from our atmosphere has received little support from the so-called "science community."

On the plus side, there are some benefits to being an oldster. The martial arts are one area where Americans tend to believe that if something has been around a long time, it must be better than something brand new -- unlike, for instance, the way we think about spouses and undergarments.

This attitude is especially useful when you're talking with some young know-it-all who has the temerity to disagree with you about a technique. As an oldster, you can get away with saying, "What you're talking about here is just old Funikoshi's old ukelelewaza. The standard counter is skubydubytori, or Raging Camel Leaps the Dentist's Chair Fist. If he has the gall to ask what that is, just look him in the eye and say that you're sure he'll be taught that when it's appropriate. This sort of thing works best if you're wearing a black belt that looks like it either was manufactured during the Revolutionary War or has been dragged behind a truck. I considered dragging my blue belt behind a truck, but the effect would be all wrong.

In all honesty, it isn't aging that I have a problem with, it's me aging. And for all of you youngsters who think it will never happen to you, here are two points of advice:

1. It certainly will happen to you, so make sure you carpe every diem you can get your hands on before they're liver spotted and wrinkled.
2. Respect your elders, at least until you learn the Raging Camel Fist.

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