BJJ Thoughts

The 5 Cs of Initially Evaluating a BJJ School

I like coffee. In particular, I enjoy a half-sweet vanilla latte. Some days I enjoy a simple 12 oz. latte with two shots. Other days, maybe feeling a bit rundown, I’ll splurge on a 16 oz. latte with 3-4 shots. Yet through my travels, my coffee habit (see also: addiction) tends to wax and wane. In Alaska and Seattle, I grew addicted to morning lattes. Maybe it was the weather (anything to warm you up), but really it came down to the coffee cultures in both. Lots and lots of convenient and good options.

When we moved to Atlanta, I ceased drinking lattes except on rare occasions. Why? A lack of good and convenient options. And I’m not counting the Starbucks on every corner of every city in the US. As much as I love coffee, I won’t bother if my options are nothing more than a chain. In my travels, though, I’ve found great coffee options no matter where I’m at – California, Cincinnati, Canada, and even Connecticut. Sometimes, though, it takes a bit of digging. Other times…way too many options (like I should complain about that).

I learned that coffee shops tend to fall into three broad categories. Option 1: Starbucks and wannabe Starbucks or maybe even “proudly serving Starbucks.” Uniforms, aprons, and glass encased mass-produced pastries. A certain corporatized aesthetic that screams “franchise.” You know the coffee won’t be great, but it won’t be horrible. Maybe a midgrade experience. Option 2: The coffee snob’s coffee shop. Stark white or concrete interior. Not a lot of seating. Few decorations. Probably meant to mirror grabbing a cappuccino in Italy where you belly-up to the counter, toss down your drink, and talk about the weather with Giovanni before heading out for the day. No flavors except maybe simple syrup. Either the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had or (more likely) not great. Option 3: A hole in the wall place packed with second-hand sofas and local art. They roast their own beans or buy locally. Near the bathrooms a community board brims with advertisements for local bands, writing groups, lost pets, and every festival you can imagine. You’ll find your favorite barista and they’ll whip up your order as they ask about your dog (or cat). Almost always, the coffee will be great.

Of course there are exceptions. Of course we all have our personal preferences. Of course some coffee shops buck the trend. Yet I’ve found a correlation to how the coffee shop portrays itself to how the coffee will be. Maybe scratching a little deeper, it’s part of the overall business design. A Starbucks (or wannabe) wants to formalize their product. A coffee snob’s coffee shop probably expects you to pick up on the hints of juniper and lemon that any flavoring would hide. A hole in the wall wants you to hangout and feel at home. To each their own. I just know what tends to work for me and where I tend to find a latte that warms my soul.

The same for BJJ schools. I’ve discovered (for me) the 5 Cs of initially evaluating BJJ gyms.

C #1: Cobrinha Statement

Ruben Charles Maciel or Cobrinha is considered one of the best BJJ featherweight competitors of all-time. He’s won IBJJF Worlds five times. He’s won ADCC three times. He’s won IBJJF No-Gi Worlds four times. He’s won IBJJF Pans four times. He’s won IBJJF Euros two times. Finally, he’s won IBJJF Brazilian Nationals one time. This is without mentioning any other amazing matches or his coaching accolades.

Yet if he introduced himself – besides being confused you didn’t know who he was already – he’d probably lead with winning the Super Grand Slam in 2017 (winning IBJJF Worlds, Pans, Euros, and Brazilian Nationals, but also ADCC). To his mind, this is probably his greatest individual BJJ achievement. The first to do it and only one of two athletes (as of writing this) to reach this accomplishment. Essentially a year of winning every major tournament in BJJ or submission grappling. Working through injuries. Eking out win after win. Not giving up on the dream. Staying dedicated and disciplined. Gold after gold after gold after gold after gold against some of the best in their division.

Despite all the accomplishments Cobrinha could lead with, this is probably what he’s most known for or at least what he values of all his accomplishments (for good reason). The same goes for just about every BJJ school and particularly coaches of that school.

Schools and coaches always lead with their “biggest” accomplishment (in reference to martial arts/BJJ). Sometimes it’s decades of experience. Other times, like Cobrinha, an impressive competition record. Maybe it’s their lineage. Or maybe they have a well-rounded knowledge of martial arts.

Whatever it may be, it’s pretty easy to ascertain what a school or coach emphasizes. Why? They lead with it. They put their best foot forward. If it’s a fairly competitive school, they’ll probably talk about competition results or frequent participation or team titles. If they are more self-defense oriented, they might discuss the roots of jiu-jitsu for that purpose. If they are big on the community aspect, that’s going to be front and center somewhere on their social media or webpage.

Which gets us to what I first look for. I go to schools’ webpages (if they have one) or their social media (Instagram, Facebook, etc.) and notice what they portray. Are there lots and lots of pictures of smiling kiddos? This probably means they have a strong kids’ program and are family-oriented. Are there a bunch of pictures of folks with medals or standing on podiums? That probably means they emphasize competition. Do they post a lot of sweaty dudes with no shirts on flexing for the camera? Well…that’s probably the vibe.

If I’m still not sure or maybe their school doesn’t have a robust social media presence (when traveling through the middle of nowhere, this happens), I dig a little deeper. I read through coach or instructor bios and notice their Cobrinha statement(s). What do they lead with? Experience? Lineage? Competition accolades? Philosophy? What exactly seems to be the reason for this coach or instructor to continue to be part of the martial art? I’m not necessarily judging anyone, but I am searching for what to expect before setting foot on their mats.

Which leads me to the four main categories I tend to notice.

C #2: Community

Vibes are everything. If you’re going to spend hours and hours at some place, it’s pretty tough it simply isn’t your cup of tea. The good thing about the growth of jiu-jitsu is that, in all likelihood, there’s a gym that fits your vibe and there’re folks that enjoy the tea you’d never order. To each their own.

What do I mean by vibes? Essentially the community – the people, the leaders, the overall feel of a gym. Are they welcoming? Does it seem like folks are friendly with each other? Is this a place you want to frequent and not feel like you’re crashing a party? Do you feel safe training there? Are people supporting each other’s training goals and needs? Do you feel you can be yourself and “vibe” with the gym as a whole? Fundamentally, is this a place you could spend a bunch of time sweating, training, and socializing (even in passing…pun intended)?

How does one even assess vibes, though? It goes back to the Cobrinha statement – it’s how a gym portrays itself on their website or social media. Does a school show smiling folks of all sizes, ages, genders, and abilities? Does the school emphasize off-mat events like holiday festivities, competition watch parties, and the like? Are they involved with the wider local community? Do they celebrate off-mat wins – a marriage, a new business, a birth, a graduation, competing in non-BJJ events? These are all signs that a school has a strong sense of community.

Inversely, does their website feel like you’ve stumbled into some shadowy part of the dark web? Is their social media full of growling dudes talking about warriors in a garden or sharks in the ocean? Do they highlight only one or two competitors (likely the head instructor and their immediate family)? Or does the gym lack any sort of personality at all – just a basic website and a mostly abandoned social media page?

Fundamentally, what exactly is the gym trying to portray to the world or potential customers? Who are they trying to attract and are you that demographic (or want to be)? And that’s without even stepping in the door.

Community erases a lot of “faults.” It can attract the right people, someone that can fill some of the gaps. If your community is great (and you show it)…you’re going to attract talent and it’s going to be known as a gym that people want to train at. Which is a lot better than the alternative.

C #3: Cults

No gyms have a perfect community. Some get close or close for you (or me or your buddy Jimmy). Different strokes for different folks.

At a gym with no sense of community (or a toxic one), you can have all the talent in the world, but it’s going to be hard to retain them. Often that talent leaves when it’s convenient for them. It will be a transactional gym devoid of consistency. Some days the mats will be full. Other days it’s a ghost town. People won’t be there to see their buddies. They’re there for the rolls (at best) before heading to the next gym. Everyone feels like they’re just passing through or it’s all clueless white belts that pick up the hints that there are better gyms out there.

There are a ton of ways to flag a cultish gym – absolute authority, discouragement of cross-training and criticism, becoming involved in students’ personal affairs, us vs. them mentality, pressure to buy products or services beyond basic membership fees, isolation of members from non or former members, along with a bevy of others. The thing that no one admits, though, is that all gyms have some of these features. Maybe it’s something like a dress code or the head instructor is naturally charismatic. One flag doesn’t mean the gym is toxic or a cult. Yet once the flags pile up, you might need to start thinking about turning in your robes before being asked to drink the Kool-Aid.

For me, being a traveling black belt that has been around the block a little, I pick up on different cues of a toxic or cultish gym. It all starts with the website or social media. Do they emphasize “loyalty” or “family” (like Dom Toretto from The Fast and Furious) a little too much? Is there a sense of “us” vs “them”? Do they belittle other gyms, especially gyms in the same city or area? Do they denigrate techniques and styles they don’t teach? Do they try to come across as the “best” even though there’s no demonstrable proof that they’re indeed better than the average gym? Do they lean into lineage more than tangible results from their students or instructors? Do they talk about the “sanctity” and “purity” of the art? It’s like the used car salesman trying too hard to sell you the Ford Pinto. If a gym leans too much on intangibles and not reviews or results, something starts to smell fishy.

What really gets my alarm bells ringing is what I refer to as the “local legend.” Essentially it’s a black belt/gym owner that has grown into some sort of regional folk hero. The students practically worship the ground the instructor(s) walk on. Don’t get me wrong, there are some coaches out there worth the hype (ahem, Gui Mendes, ahem). Some places have built a wonderful community that reflects the nature of the head coach/owner. Yet too many gyms benefit from their students’ naivety. The students are in awe of the black belt that’s been smashing them all for years. They treat him (usually a him) like some sort of god. Untouchable and unquestionable. As a traveling black belt, I can feel this vibe immediately. I’ve been around world champions. I’ve trained at elite schools. I know the difference between a Ferrari and a Ford Pinto.

Whether it’s through social media, the gym’s website, or in-person, it’s clear everything is about the black belt and maybe one or two of their folks (usually family members – their wife, their kid, etc.). There’s no room for anyone else or their goals. As a traveling black belt, these gyms always get my hackles up because I know every roll against the instructor (and their inner circle) will be to the death. God forbid I (or anyone) gets the better of them. Ideas and techniques will be withheld (unless you want to pay for an overpriced and half-assed private lesson). Ego runs rampant throughout the gym, although many times their level of success flounders at the local level (if that). Quite simply, you either kiss the ring or you’re left out in the cold. No thanks.

I understand there’s a delicate balance between a gym owner and their students. A gym owner wants folks to train at their gym. Part of that attraction is demonstrating you know what it takes to be successful in some capacity and continue to keep up with an ever-evolving sport. As a student, you want to train under someone that knows what they’re talking about and has accomplished what you’re seeking. Yet there needs to be room for the students and their goals. Not an easy balance.

For too many gym owners, though, it’s all about what they want or need. Most of the year “training up for a competition”? Who is running the classes? When do the students benefit from your experience? Traveling all over the world teaching seminars or recording instructionals? When do the students get to learn that content?

As a customer or client of a gym, I want my jiu-jitsu to benefit from attending classes there. I’m not there to stoke the ego of some random black belt. I’m there for my goals and my own progression. I would hope that every other student or member is in the same boat. We aren’t there to worship some random upper/black belt. We’re there to benefit from the teaching, coaching, and guidance of the instructors. Sometimes that’s tied to the instructor/owner’s success – knowing what it takes to be a world champion, etc. – yet at some point it should be about what the students are getting out of the relationship. It should be about the students’ success. Why else are we spending our money on gym dues? To be a grappling dummy for the head coach? No thanks.

C #4: Competition

Maybe we have different filters for evaluating gyms, but I still fashion myself as a competitor. Or at least was a frequent competitor throughout the colored belts. I still enjoy training with the idea that what I’m working on should hold up to competition standards. That means being able to pass and sweep and maintain pins until securing a submission. I also believe in continuously evolving and keeping abreast with the latest BJJ innovations that manifest at the highest stages of the sport. In other words, I think competing is an important part of BJJ.

When evaluating gyms, I tend to gravitate towards places that value competing. They can list their competition successes. Even better, they can show their students’ successes. Are a multitude of folks placing or winning a variety of competitions? Is the school sending quite a few students to local tournaments? Are a few of the more driven students or instructors training up for major competitions? How do they generally do? It’s okay if they aren’t winning gold, but is it competitive? Are they moving up the podium year after year? Are they taking the losses in stride and working to improve for next time and the time after that and not just individually, but as a group?

Not that I expect gyms to be full of gold medalists, but I appreciate a healthy competition mindset. Pushing each other to get better and hit our goals. A group of us hopping in a car and driving to the local IBJJF Open. Cheering each other on, no matter the final outcome. Willing to put in the extra credit work to get better outside of normal class times. Gym owners or instructors that give the freedom for the more driven athletes to thrive.

Not every school can be an AOJ. I get that. Yet they can emulate that success by putting themselves out there on the competition mats, taking what they learned, and constantly striving for perfection. Studying and implementing what the “best” are doing – training modalities, techniques, etc. (not including PEDs). The work ethic is beyond the norm. Beyond mindlessly showing up to class, getting a few rolls in, and then disappearing until next time.

In other words, I look for gyms full of people working to be The Man in the Arena.

C #5: “Competition”

Just like cult gyms are community gyms gone wrong, “competition” gyms are competition gyms gone wrong.

A lot of gyms fashion themselves as competitive. Really, though, what’s the alternative? For some gyms, this works in their favor (see: community). For many, admitting they aren’t a competitively successful gym leaves a bitter taste in their mouths. Instead, these gyms tend to overcompensate. This is what I term “competition” gyms. In other words, I’m really leaning into those quotation marks.

These gyms seem like a fairly standard competition gym. They have a bunch of classes and folks roll hard or intensely. They probably have a few so-called competitors and likely offer a competition-style class (however defined). There are a bunch of scary looking folks on the mats, usually eyeballing drop-ins like a scene in a spaghetti western. They refer to each other as “killers” or “monsters” or similar terms. “Jimmy is an absolute killer.” “Sarah is a total monster.” They hold an open mat a couple of times a week and it’s invite only or known for being tough and rough. Not so bad, right?

Here’s the kicker – no one does all that well at competitions (to include MMA). In the words of Seinfeld, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” The problem, though, is they have a million excuses. They don’t like this or that ruleset. They’re always getting screwed over by refs. They’re always injured. Although none of these excuses keep them from self-proclaiming how good they are. “I would’ve…” “I could’ve…” Nor does it stop these guys from cranking submissions or rolling like it’s the finals of an ADCC on anyone that walks in that door, including their own teammates.

For me, after training at one of the premier competition schools (AOJ), I know what a good competition school should be doing (or emulating). I know what a well ran competition class looks like. I know what healthy passion feels like. I know how to tiptoe that line between intensity and keeping each other healthy and safe. I know what it means to prioritize competition wins over class “wins.” I’ve seen what it takes to be on top of the podium over and over again.

When a gym is more about appearances, talk, and shirtless pictures after class with almost no results, that’s a “competition” school. When a gym is more worried about winning on social media and in the gym – their bodies and partners’ bodies be damned – they’re a “competition” school. If a gym’s solution for competitive disappointment is excuses and “more hard rounds,” they’re a “competition” school. If your claim to fame is “trust me bro, we’re killers” and you either don’t compete or are always going home after the first round because (reasons), you’re a “competition” school.

I don’t want to come across as elitist. I know not every place can be an AOJ. Yet I also see a lot of gyms that fashion themselves as total badasses and yet they possess no tangible results to back these claims. Instead, it’s the sort of gym that feels more like a Fight Club than a gym helping you hit those (lofty) competition goals. For me, being 140 lbs and 40+ years old, I say “no thanks” to those sorts of gyms. I have nothing to prove. I’m fully aware I’m small and old and beat up from life and this sport. Yet somehow I keep going and somehow I’m able to train 2+ times a day and compete fairly often (with good results). One trick…avoiding these “competition” schools.

Not everyone has the same filters for a jiu-jitsu school. Considerations like distance, class times, Gi vs No Gi ratios, and…can all play a factor for you. Whenever I move, though, I don’t like to waste time (or risk my body) trying out every possible gym in the area. Instead, I look to see how they portray their business. Who are the clientele they’re trying to attract and (frankly) am I in that demographic (or want to be)? To understand that, I dig through their website and social media to find their Cobrinha statements. In other words, how do they present themselves to the world.

Of course I visit schools and lean into the free classes to evaluate whether I’m a good fit for them and vice versa. Of course I see whether a gym corresponds to how they portray themselves online. Many times it’s fairly accurate. Other times maybe the mats are empty and the only pictures you see online are when it’s a special occasion. Or maybe the instructors/owners say all the right things on their website, but the reality is quite different. That happens, but at the least I can narrow down from the initial red flags.

Nonetheless, I recommend sitting down and thinking about how you initially evaluate a gym. What goals you have and what sort of gyms tend to align with those objectives. Inversely, think about how you portray your gym online and what sort of folks that might attract. Is that who you want? Are they aligned with your gym’s goals? Many times goals change over time. One thing, though, that tends to stay constant is finding a place with a solid community that you can (or want to) fit into. That much I can’t emphasize enough.

BJJ Journey BJJ Thoughts

Stranger in a Strange Land: So You’ve Moved to a New Gym (as a Colored Belt)

by Thomas

It’s okay to change schools. Let’s start there. Life happens. Goals change. You never know which direction the wind will blow. Heck, we all just lived through a pandemic. To expect to stay at the same school for your entire jiu-jitsu journey is a bit unrealistic. It can and does still happen, but it’s also quite common to find ourselves changing academies. And that’s okay.

In many ways change is good. Yet because we’re being honest here, it also sorta sucks. Or a lot sucks if you really, really liked your previous BJJ gym and moved for reasons a bit outside your control. People don’t know your name. You don’t know theirs. People call you “Tim” when your name is Tom (true story). They don’t know you’ve won this or that competition. They don’t care that you used to teach at your old school. It hardly registers or matters where you got your belt (and/or stripes) from.

You’re surrounded by strangers. Clueless to the inside jokes and unwritten mores. Learning a different game under a different teacher with a different class structure and this may or may not feel like an upgrade from your old gym. Tossed into the fray, navigating the social dynamics and idiosyncrasies of a new (to you) group of grapplers. You don’t know when or if you’ll ever train at or visit your previous school. You’ve kissed goodbye to your comfort zone and here you are with your belt from another place and not sure what to expect. Yep…this officially sucks.

But wait…there’s hope.

Before I go on, though, let me share a story about what not to do. When I was a blue belt, my first school was pretty new. Not new-new, but the whites and blues from around that time ended up being the first homegrown black belts at that gym. Blue belts working hard, competing just about every month, and overall realizing they were the lifeblood of the school at that time. When an upper belt moved into the area or dropped in, as is wont in jiu-jitsu, us uppity blue belts wanted to see what they were about. Inevitably we got whooped, but on occasion we surprised ourselves and only got slightly demolished. As part of jiu-jitsu, this led to respecting those upper belts – listening to their advice, asking them questions, emulating their games, etc.

In walks a brown belt. We’ve seen other brown belts. Some of them accomplished competitors or regarded for their knowledge. Seeing a brown belt wasn’t quite like seeing a snow leopard in the wild. We’d been there and done that. Yet this one name-dropped every person he’d ever shared oxygen with. He made it rain with unsolicited technical advice. He offered to teach classes or give private lessons from day 1. In the words of Connor McGregor, “Who da fook is that guy?” The really annoying part? He didn’t roll with us. Maybe he rolled with the brown or black belts here and there, but he didn’t roll with us peasant-class blue belts. But he sure tried coaching us from the sidelines as he foam rolled yet another “injury” and name-dropped until he ran out of breath. Worse yet, he showed up to competitions and yelled unsolicited advice to folks he didn’t know their game, their personalities, or most times even their names.

Here’s the issue. We didn’t know who the F he was. He was new to us and us to him. We didn’t know if he competed. We didn’t know his style. We didn’t know if he could back up his belt. We didn’t know anything except he knew how to talk. It’s not that he needed to be the most badass brown belt in existence, but he needed to join the foxhole with us. We needed to see him putting in the work before we could listen to him or before we could accept him as our own. Barring that, he was just some guy with a brown belt.

I think about this guy each time I move. I’ve won some big tournaments. I received my black belt from a famous school while surrounded by world champions whom I consider my friends. I’ve taught at various places. I’ve successfully prepared guys for tournaments (gold medals). Yet none of that matters when you first step on the mats at a new school. If anything, if I said all that from the jump…the expectations would be sky high. I need to be in the foxhole with them and then I can start settling in. Only then can they evaluate me for my merits. I get it because I was once that lower belt and needed to know “Who da fook is that guy?”

When you move, you have to keep that in mind. You need to show who you are. That takes time. That takes patience and persistence, a lot like everything in jiu-jitsu.

Why did you change academies?

Quite often life circumstances draw us to another BJJ home. A major life change such as a promotion, a new job, marriage, deployment and a million other reasons tossing you geographically too far from your old academy. This is probably the simplest answer. Essentially you are looking for what you left, but now in a new location. In that case, you have to ask yourself what you miss (or what you enjoyed) about your old academy? Was it the community? Proximity to work or home? The class times? The hilarious instructor? Harder rolls? What exactly kept you coming back to that particular school?

For me, this is one of the reasons I’ve moved gyms so many times – a combination of my wife’s work and my mother’s health. I’ve trained longer-term (a few months or years) at quite a few places now. Almost every gym has their pros and cons. So I have to ask myself, fundamentally, what I want from a BJJ gym. It almost always boils down to the community or people. Can I handle hanging out with this group every single day? Do I want to habitually associate with these human beings? Is it a place that I feel welcomed and safe?

Which can lead to some negative reasons you left your old academy. You didn’t like the culture, community, or environment. In other words, you didn’t feel welcomed and safe. Instead of shopping for a repeat of what you left, you can flip the question on its head. What would you have liked from an academy? What was the deal breaker and sent you shopping for greener grass? What are red (or green) flags you can look for when walking into a new school?

I’ve walked into some places and immediately walked out (or wished I had). Being an upper belt or really any belt beyond white belt, new people tend to eyeball you like the start of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. As the round timer starts, I can almost hear the whistling theme song in the background (wah-wah-wah…) as we slap-bump to start the round. Or else no one introduces themselves and everyone acts like you smell like the bathrooms at the end of a BJJ competition. And maybe you do, but I would hope someone would tell you that’s why people aren’t talking to you. Either way, a simple vibe check goes a long way in figuring out whether a gym suits your needs. As a colored belt, especially as upper belts that have been around the scene a bit, you can tell when a gym has the wrong vibes.

My friend (as of writing this is a brown belt) has a whole list of red flags for when she strolls into a gym. Does it have a women’s locker room? Do the bathrooms have locks? Are there female colored or upper belts? Barring that, are there smaller male upper belts? Did the instructor immediately slide into her DMs? How many guys did the old “thanks for the roll” trick? Again, did she feel safe and comfortable being there? Is this a place that she would want to hang out at on a daily basis?

Frankly, some (many?) gyms won’t work for you. So keep looking. Make sure a place passes your personal vibe check.

What are your training goals?

In a future post, I’ll talk about handling a very competitive school. As in, you left your gym to join a more competitive school.

For now, though, let’s talk about general training goals.

Your training goals will and should change as you progress through the belts. As a white belt, you had no idea what you wanted from a gym. Maybe you heard about jiu-jitsu through a popular podcast. Or maybe you really like watching MMA. Whatever the reason you started training, you probably walked into an academy with very limited expectations. How many white belts saunter into a gym asking about any medals the instructor or students have won? To most white belts, a NAGA belt seems the same as an ADCC gold medal (or maybe even more impressive; it’s usually a belt or sword after all). With time and knowledge, that changes. Same for a lot of aspects of jiu-jitsu.

Your understanding and expectations change as you’ve been around longer. Maybe you’ve developed a particular game and want to learn under an instructor that would complement that or you want to teach more or you’re happy getting into the academy three times a week before working your 9-to-5 and it’s imperative a place has morning classes. Your goals or expectations for an academy will change as you progress through the belts.

Make sure that your new academy aligns with your goals. Have a conversation with the instructor. Explain why you’re moving and maybe a bit about yourself. Did you enjoy teaching the kids’ class at your old academy? Were you part of a core group of competitors? Are you really into leglocks and are curious on how the school looks at more modern aspects of jiu-jitsu? Ask. Open that conversation with the new school and make sure you’re not signing a contract for a place that isn’t going to motivate you to keep training.

Be okay letting go of your old gym.

It’s hard moving gyms. Especially if you left on good terms. It’s hard leaving behind your friends and the inside jokes and the jiu-jitsu life you built. In the words of Dorothy, though, “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

The hardest part for me has always been realizing that a new gym isn’t an old one. I won’t be flow rolling with Matt while I make fun of Marc. I won’t be making 15 traffic violations as I rush to Derek’s classes on Saturdays. I won’t be grinding away in comp class every day and learning to emulate Tainan Dalpra, I won’t be spoon-fed concepts by Gui Mendes. I won’t be geeking out on bolos and leg drags with Dylan and Elliot. I won’t be co-teaching with Biggest Dave. I can keep going.

When I first started training at AOJ, I missed my Buckhead Jiu-Jitsu friends and community. When I stopped training at AOJ as frequently, I missed just about everything about being there. A new gym, inevitably, gets compared to the old one. We’ll always miss something about the old gym. Something that will never be copied exactly. Something will always feel “off” or not quite right. Imperfect.

Yet we need to remember the day we walked into our first jiu-jitsu school. You didn’t know anyone’s names. You didn’t know how to line up before and after class. You didn’t know where the bathroom was or how to tie your belt. It all felt strange and unusual as you were a stranger in a strange land.

Now here we are again, a fish out of water despite wearing a more colorful belt. Stumbling through the first class or two. Trying to make a joke that doesn’t land. Everyone sizing up the new blue or purple or whatever belt. Totally scared of offending someone just because we’re new to the gym. Much less feeling like we might have to defend our rank.

It’s uncomfortable. It’s awkward. It’s even a bit silly. Yet here we are pursuing our goals or passions to continue to train.

For me to “fit” in to any new school, I learned to let go. I gave up on the idea that this new gym would be the same as an old one. My Buckhead friends weren’t going to magically walk through that door. Gui and Tainan weren’t going to start teaching anywhere else except Southern California. And it was tough to admit that. The quicker I did, though, the less I latched onto expectations that weren’t fair to me or the new place.

Develop new connections.

I’m not saying to delete all the old contacts in your phone and block them on social media. What I’m saying is you have to admit that you’re not at the same place. You’re not the same Day 1 white belt stumbling onto the mats for the first time. Clueless and wide-eyed and with probably a lot less cauliflower ear.

You’re entering a new phase in a new place. Assuming you didn’t dive into a toxic situation, embrace this new gym. Make new friends. Start fresh inside jokes. Learn who is the stinky Gi guy and who is fun to roll with. Discover what makes that gym unique and fold it into your game. Start making this new academy your new home.

For me, I joined a gym in Indianapolis (Naptown) where the main black belt has a great leg lock game. I rarely feel threatened by leg attacks, yet every roll with Eric Board ended up with me tapping to a leg attack or surviving the roll by the skin of my ankles. At the end of my time there, my leg defense grew exponentially while I started developing my own straight ankle game. And I hope my game impacted their team as well.

I know I would never have taught at AOJ. Why would little old me teach there? They have about one million adult world champions to draw from. Yet when I’ve moved, inevitably I get asked to teach. Teaching isn’t something I sought out, yet new opportunities arose because of new circumstances. I discovered I enjoy sharing my passion for jiu-jitsu and (ironically) the lessons I learned from my time at AOJ. As I’ve told some of my friends there, I feel like I’m some traveling AOJ apostle or missionary. “Have you heard about the good word of AOJ?” None of those opportunities would’ve happened if I stayed in Orange County full-time.

My friend Ben uses a rock tumbler analogy. Essentially training with the same folks day after day starts to lose some of its effectiveness. You warp each other’s development in semi-predictable directions. Introducing new variables or experiences brings your game (and theirs) into fresh and unexpected directions. You are that new variable. The gym is your new experience.

Now to see what different and exciting directions your jiu-jitsu goes into and what unexpected opportunities arise.

Embrace the wider community.

Jiu-Jitsu is still a niche sport. It especially feels like it when we first join. It’s like joining a Fight Club. Punching in GPS directions to some gym tucked into a dark corner of a strip mall or located in a far flung edge of an industrial complex or maybe hidden in some secret room of a regular weights gym with barely a logo to signal you’re in the right place. Very rarely is it a standalone building with bright white walls and an open floor plan. Usually we stop at the front desk to sign a few forms before being led back to mats that aren’t all that visible from the outside. There it is. That musty scent of sweat and industrial cleaner. A few flipflops lining the edges and a bunch of strangers sizing you up as you step onto the mats for the first time. Cue a shirtless Brad Pitt listing the rules.

Yet jiu-jitsu has grown. A few less people swing karate chop hands after explaining what you do in your spare time. Or your coworkers stopped asking about the Gi burns on your face or why you’re limping a bit after drilling leglocks last night. With that, the opportunities to be involved throughout the broader jiu-jitsu culture are evolving. From hosting a podcast or being a guest, traveling to BJJ camps in far-flung regions of the world, to simply cross-training or attending random open mats, offering online content or having a larger social media presence, or a million other ways to tap into the wider community. Even if, at times, you feel like it’s a small, small world or a small, small gym that you’re training at, the BJJ community is ever-expanding.

Even if the gym that you decided to train at isn’t hitting all your goals (or you’re not fitting in the way you hoped), you can still look a little bigger. You can embrace how the jiu-jitsu culture is moving away from the dreaded “creonte” label. This is especially true if you live in a “jiu-jitsu hub” (see: SoCal, NYC, Austin, etc.). Pretty much any place with a lot of jiu-jitsu gyms provides you with a ton of opportunities to mix and match your experiences. Can’t teach at your main school? Maybe that smaller gym needs a women’s class instructor. Not getting your daily dose of high-level beat downs? Pop into a few open mats or comp classes at the big name school that was too expensive for you. No one inviting you on any podcasts? Start your own blog talking about perspectives you’ve always wanted to share. The prospects are almost endless.

Just because a new school, or even your old one, isn’t checking all the boxes doesn’t mean you can’t find ways to check the boxes yourself. In today’s internet, hyper-connected, digital age, there are a million ways to find what you’re looking for. Realizing you aren’t “stuck” at the school down the street or the gym that gives you the best rolls (but little else) gives you license to see what else is out there. If anything, it expands your social network (and I don’t mean Facebook, although that may also be true). You start stumbling into situations you never expected or the right people in the right place see your worth that you felt your new school was under-utilizing.

It’s a big world out there. It would be a shame to only experience a piece of it.

Moving gyms kinda sucks. Whether the reason for the move was bad or good, it’s not easy feeling like a stranger in a strange land. At the minimum, it simply doesn’t feel the same as your old gym. Whether it be the level of the room, promotion shenanigans, or simply socially, it always feels like you’re starting all over again. Which classes fit your schedule. Which instructor suits your learning style. Which group do you vibe with. Why does it feel like everyone is going comp intensity with you? Why doesn’t anyone get your jokes? All of that takes time to fit into a new group. Time will pass anyway and if this gym fits your goals, then just keep showing up.

About that, what are your BJJ goals? Does this new place provide everything you need or are there gaps? Can you cross-train? Can you embrace the wider community through online content, competing, or camps? Just like anything in jiu-jitsu, you tend to get what you put into it. The same for finding your way as a stranger in a strange land. Sooner or later, who you are and what you put into your experience will manifest results. Before you know it, you’ll feel settled at your new home (while likely still feeling at welcome at your old home).

Don’t be limited by the situation. Only be limited by your work ethic and imagination.