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Your January 2019 Postcard from Norm: Surviving the Judd Reid Fight Camp

1/25/2019

8 Comments

 
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Sorry that my postcard is a little late this month, but I just got back from a trip to Thailand where I spent three memorable weeks. But instead of lounging by the pool, sightseeing at the Buddhist temples, and drinking beer bars all night like most tourists to the Kingdom of Siam, I had one singular agenda on my trip:

Survive the Judd Reid Fight Camp.
 

In fact, this was my third time attending the annual Kyokushin Karate camp hosted by the legendary martial artist (and one of my best friends), Australian Judd Reid, as well as Sensei Dean Booth.
 
I met Judd – or, Shihan Reid as I respectfully refer to him throughout the camp – through a serious of fortuitous circumstances starting in 2014. One of my best traveling buddies from Melbourne, Clint G da Monsta, introduced me to an interesting cat named Anton Cavka who had just produced a unique martial arts documentary and was looking to promote it. 

I was writing for the Huffington Post at the time and happened to be visiting Phnom Penh, Cambodia at the same time as Cavka, so we met at 7 am at an end-of-the-world bar called The Pickled Parrot, and got along famously from there. 
 
That’s when I first heard of Judd Reid and his successful undertaking of the 100-man fight, or real-life kumite, as he was only the 19th person in history to do so. 
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​Soon, I met Judd in Thailand, became buds, trained (and drank a few beers) together, and I even helped him co-write a book about his early training in Japan and the 100-man fight, entitled The Young Lions.
 
Tragically, Anton passed away before the book was finished, so when Shihan Reid was nice enough to invite me to his first karate fight camp in Thailand in 2015, I said “yes” even though I was in piss-poor shape and had never practiced Kyokushin Karate before.
 
Since then, I’ve aimed to go every year (I wanted to do it last year and actually was in Thailand for the camp, but the alien tapeworm that took over my insides had other plans), silently dedicating my effort to Anton’s memory, thinking of him often as we train. 
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​This year, I thought I was in better shape going in, starting my training months earlier at Apex Krav Maga and SoulCraft Jiu-Jitsu back in Connecticut when I visited the States. I ramped up my workouts through December when I returned to Manila, knowing the magnitude of what I was about to undertake all too well.

But with no dojo to workout in or even a training partner, I considered hiring a Filipino just to help toughen me up for the camp.

​Job Opening: 
Looking for someone to punch me in the stomach and kick me in the legs repeatedly. 
Must be clean, discreet, and single (no wedding rings when you punch me.) Southpaws need not apply. 
​Three days a week is ideal; job will pay by the bruise or until I yell the safe word, which is “MORE." ​


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Instead, I found a small local gym called The Fight Factory where they put me through rounds of pad work and smacked me around a bit, as well as sprinting up a hill near my condo.

However, as usual, I was completely humbled by the camp, although I escaped without a significant injury this time – a minor miracle. (A torn Achilles, broken ribs, dislocated elbow, broken fingers, and a lot of bruises to my pride were the casualties of past camps!)
 
The camp is “only” six days but there are three workout sessions per day, each one cumulatively harder thanks to your exhaustion, lack of sleep (I barely slept four hours a night because everything hurt and my adrenaline wouldn’t subside, even when I desperately needed rest), mounting injuries, and such.
 
The whole purpose is to completely shock your body, forcing you far out of your comfort zone, all while ramping up the intensity to an 11 on a scale of 1-10. 
 
You can either be comfortable or you can grow - but not both.

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​Around day two, my mind already screamed “NO MORE!” as a litany of self-doubts and excuses came calling. How could I possibly survive the entire camp, I wondered before every single session? 
 
While the other athletes in the camp had a considerable edge in skill, technique, and the ability to withstand blows since they all trained regularly at their Kyokushin dojos back home, I did possess a few distinct advantages.
 
Most of them had to travel extremely long distances from places like Canada, Europe, and Australia, so they were coping with jet lag, the time change, and a new climate, while Southeast Asia was already “home” to me. 
 
I also came prepared, purchasing a little coffee maker for my hotel room and fortified with packs of Red Bull, oatmeal, almonds, and Tylenol to keep my tired old bones going.
 
However, I had to keep working during the camp, which means I awoke at 4 am every morning to send emails and write blogs before heading downstairs for the first workout at about 5:30 am, or “O-dark-thirty” as they say in the military.
 
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​The first session started promptly at 5:45 am, everyone half-asleep and stretching in the pitch black on the hotel's back lawn, dressed black Muay Thai-style shorts, black camp t-shirts, and sneakers (ok, “runners” or “trainers” for the rest of you!)
 
After a quick shower, we convened downstairs for breakfast, as we ate every meal together, Uchi Deshi (live-in student) style. Once “brekkie” was over, that only left us about 90 minutes or less for the next session.
 
But the next training session came up way too fast, as we met at 1030 am in a hotel conference room that was cordoned off and converted into a fully functioning dojo for us. There were rubberized mats spread across the floor, mitts, pads, and kick shields lined up, banners with traditional Japanese writing, and posters with quotes by the martial art’s legendary founder, Sosai Masutatsu Oyama. 
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​We wore our crisp white gi's for that second session, which usually entailed lessons on technique, punch and kick combinations solo and with a partner, and a mashup of pushups, sit-ups, squats, jumping jacks, and burpees in between. We even enjoyed forays into wrestling, jiu-jitsu, street self-defense, and full speed jumping break falls, as Shihan Reid pays little consideration to labels and definitions within the martial arts, instead promoting whatever is most effective.
 
After another group gathering for lunch, we had the longest break of the day – about three hours – before the final afternoon session at 4 pm. ​
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The training started in the dojo, where we work on drills as a group or with partners before lining up to spar every other member of the camp.

​I used that time productively, dancing around like a boxer as I tried not to get killed, blocking the occasional kick with my head and absorbing a ridiculous amount of punishment to my legs (my shins still smart a week and a half later!).
 
The late afternoon sessions often ended up on the beach, where we had some of the hardest training of the day. It was well worth the pain and perseverance when we slowed down to practice katas, then knelt in formation along the edge of where the waves lapped the sand, focusing in a meditative state as the sun fell towards the horizon before us.

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​At dinner, I tried my best to sit up straight without keeling over with fatigue. A good meal always helped, and I enjoyed the comraderie as we joked around, exchanged snippets of our lives back home, and “took the piss” out of the others’ nationalities and dialects.

For instance, we hotly debated the word thong (the word for flip flops in Australia) and which side of the road was "correct" to drive on. But as the sole U.S. representative, I was thoroughly outnumbered, and took it as a huge complimnt when I heard comments such as, “You’re the first American I've met that I actually like!”
 
After dinner, we might head across the street for a massage or to visit the laundry, but most spare moments were spent trying to rest up for the next morning, when we did it all over again.
 
Each session lasted an hour and a half to two hours and resulted in us drenched in sweat, soaked in sea water, covered head to toe in sand, grass, or dirt, and sometimes even splattered with a little blood.

But we were always smiling ear to ear, enlivened that we’d survived one more spirited day training at the toughest karate camp in the world. 


​-Norm  :-)
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***
A lot of my friends are into martial arts, fitness enthusiasts, or know of Judd Reid by now. So, in next month's postcard, I'll break down the nuts and bolts of the actual physical activity and training we engaged in over the course of the camp, as well as the elemental nature, discipline, and honor of Kyokushin Karate, which has definitely changed my life for the better.
8 Comments
Patti Martinez link
1/25/2019 07:42:17 am

Wonderful postcard Norm! I live vicariously through your adventures and love following all of your exciting trips. Thank you.

Reply
Ophelia Riego
1/25/2019 09:13:26 am

As always, love reading your adventure. Keep enjoying life!

Reply
Kara
1/25/2019 10:33:01 am

Hearing about your adventures is awesome!

Reply
Dan
1/25/2019 11:12:31 am

Osu. Your a champ mate

Reply
Adam G.
1/25/2019 06:15:10 pm

You're also the 1st American that I met that I actually like....
#7pickwick

Reply
David Stone link
1/26/2019 12:42:40 pm

Hi Norm,
Great and informative news update. But the camp sounded like a piece of cake---Just kidding. Good on you for sticking with it to completion. You have to feel great about that ordeal. I'll bet you feel like you can now do almost anything. Continued success. Your friend, David

Reply
Tracey Saizan link
1/29/2019 07:01:52 pm

I absolutely love receiving your "postcards" but this one really made me realize what a bad-ass you are! Congratulations to you and all of your accomplishments, my friend! You are an inspiration!! ❤️

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Suzy Vejar
2/5/2019 11:37:34 pm

Hello Norm,

Thank you so very much much for including James and I in your monthly postcards. We absolutely love the experience, peace, love, and respect you give and share with others around the world. Your a kind person thru and thru. We are truly elated to hear about this recent journey and your accomplishments - quite impressive!

Wishing you safe travels always,

Suzy and James

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    Norm Schriever

    Norm Schriever is a best-selling author, expat, cultural mad scientist, and enemy of the comfort zone. He travels the globe, telling the stories of the people he finds, and hopes to make the world a little bit better place with his words.   

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