On March 9, I determined I could no longer train, even at my hobbyist intervals, and still support my son's participation in travel baseball to the extent I desire. His already demanding schedule grew even more robust following the switch from off-season to pre-season.
And then we went to Arizona for his first tournament of the year; one in which his team coalesced and he played quite well. Although the team was out of the winners' bracket after Day 1, they competed well, played some decent team baseball, and my boy pitched, hit, and defended with a robust competitive vigor that made me very proud.
Knowing this trip was on the horizon, as are tuition payments for the high school he'll begin attending next fall, I called James and asked him to suspend my membership agreement until the baseball schedule wanes this summer. Now, almost three weeks later, I am detrained and I miss the mat. I miss the new and old friends in class. I miss getting punched in the face.
I knew I would, but I also knew that I would start beating myself up about missing classes if I couldn't maintain a sort of dual motivations (to train and to be there for my son). So I temporarily sacrificed one for the other.
In the mean time, I've found short intervals of time in which I can train on my own. I lift and stretch. I do some BJJ drilling. The latter is almost essential to maintaining some kind of tangential attachment to the mat and the movements that can be so demanding to novice grapplers, but which come so naturally with constant training.
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