How does 10 years of aikido feel? Benefits of martial arts for adults

Or, how to survive bicycling in traffic

How does it feel to have practiced aikido for over ten years?

I was late. I was biking in a light drizzle to the dentist’s office, wearing my new rain jacket and rain pants. My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pants pocket, slowly, still pedaling, looking at the road ahead. I glanced down to see a missed call from the dentist. I called back and assured the receptionist I was on my way. I put the phone back in my pocket and pedaled faster.

Photo by Andrew Gook on Unsplash

At an upcoming intersection, I saw the traffic stopped at a red light. I made a left turn, cutting across the lanes of stationary cars. As I was cutting across, I saw the light turn green in my peripheral vision. I turned my head right to check if the car was going to start driving towards me, and found myself making eye contact with a cop in a patrol car.

Shit. I try to avoid the cops, when possible. I certainly don’t run red lights on my bike right in front of them. But I had already crossed the intersection. I stomped on the pedals for a burst of speed and headed towards the corner of the sidewalk, thinking I would get out of the road entirely.

My swerve turned into a slide on the wet pavement. My back wheel lost traction and moved under me. It was like in the movies where the tough guys on motorcycles skid into the parking lot. Miraculously, I found myself still sitting on the bike at the end of the skid. I put my left foot up on the curb, breathed out, and glanced at the traffic. The cop car was gone. Apparently, not concerned with my nonsense (or impressed by my skid).

Photo by shraga kopstein on Unsplash

Pulling over at the bike rack across from the dentist, I reached into my pocket to grab my keys for the bike lock. Wallet was there, but no keys. I rummaged harder. No keys. I looked into the pocket and was horrified to see a large hole. I looked across the street at the window of the dentist’s office. They were expecting me ten minutes ago. But I couldn’t lock my bike, and I needed my keys.

I started retracing my exact route on my bike. Well, almost exactly. I wasn’t willing to bike down the wrong side of a busy street, so I slowly biked down the right margin while continually glancing to my left looking for my keyring on the pavement. I turned down a one-way-street (the wrong way) because I needed to retrace. Five minutes later, I had not found the keys.

This was the low point of my morning. I had been tired, I had not wanted to get out of bed, and now I was biking around on a wild goose chase for my keys because I had not realized my rain jacket had faulty pockets and my dentist was probably going to say I missed my appointment anyway if I ever got there.

At least I didn’t hit the pavement during that skid earlier, I thought. Gotta take the small wins. I replayed the slide in my mind. It had gone well. I had been relaxed. I had leaned into it. I couldn’t have done it better if I planned it.

I have, actually, practiced falling off my bike. And how to avoid falling off my bike. When I was a young kid, I had a bike, but I wasn’t allowed to leave our yard with it. So I would bike over bumps, obstacles, or down a little steep hill full of leaves and sticks. Pretty often, my little kids bike with the thick tires would skid out. I would drop it, even throwing it down to get myself off and on my feet next to the fallen bike. I didn’t let the bike take me down.

I’ve dropped my bike a few times as an adult, too. I’ve even fallen sideways from my bike a handful of times. Sometimes, that’s the best you can do.

In San Francisco, the MUNI train runs in these three-inch deep indentations in the road. I didn’t know yet to cross the tracks perpendicular. Perhaps you can guess where this is going. I got both front and back bike wheel stuck in a MUNI track, and couldn’t balance or turn. I fell solidly sideways, onto my leg, and rolled onto my back. I didn’t hit my head and I didn’t damage any joints. Luckily, there was no traffic approaching (honestly, the traffic is the most dangerous part). That was an aikido fall. I bruised the heck out of my leg but otherwise I felt completely fine.

Photo by Anthony Sebbo on Unsplash

This is one of the benefits of martial arts for adults. We all fall, sometimes, and for those of us who spend our evenings falling thousands of times for practice, we are less likely to be injured. But not less likely to lose our keys.

Where could my keys have fallen out of my pocket, I wondered? Either they were all the way back at the house, or maybe when I moved or did something unusual. My sideways skid flashed across my mind again, with my foot up on the sidewalk curb, my turn to the right to check the traffic, shaking off the panic and biking onwards.

I approached the corner where I had skidded, and scanned the crosswalk and sidewalk. My heart pounded. Aha! I saw my keys. They were right on the corner of the curb, where I had placed my foot fifteen minutes ago. Relief washed over me.

Okay. I took a deep breath and retraced my path back to the dentist (after zipping my keys and wallet into a more secure pocket).

Showing up and asking for help is a skill I’ve refined during aikido events. When we need to get into the room and set up the mats early, I can ask for that and make it happen. When Sensei needs Irish Spring soap because his hotel soap is bad, I can ask the clerk at CVS to help me find some. When we have a reservation at the restaurant and our party of 20 needs a table now, I can ask the server for help.

So I walked into the dentist’s office, half an hour behind schedule, and gave my name and apologized. They made me wait a while longer, but I did get a high-quality cleaning and exam.

Aikido practice doesn’t fix my problems—far from it—but it does increase my chances of success in personal, physical dilemmas all day, every day.

---

I’m delighted to share my essay “Please Hit Girls (When They Ask You To)” was just published in Clinch: A Martial Arts Literary Magazine. (How cool is that??)

I spend a lot of time thinking and writing about gender and martial arts (and I’ve been training in aikido for over ten years) so it’s really meaningful for me to share martial arts essays. Hope you enjoy!

---

Thanks so much for reading!

Do you need digital marketing assistance? I can help with graphics, websites, search, newsletters, videos, and more. Learn more and book a free discovery call at weshineconsulting.com!

Check out my videos! YouTube • TikTok • Instagram • Facebook

Take care,

Rey