Before you worry about the next roll, the next class, or even the rest of the day, pay attention to what you’re doing right now. Ask yourself: Is what I’m doing in this moment empowering me and preparing me for my next moment—or is it taking something away from me? On the mats and in life, stay aware, be discerning, and make this moment count.

I was talking with Armand at McHugh BJJ in Marlton. He’s 46 years old and has been training Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for 12 years. I asked him a simple question: What are you doing now to help yourself stay healthy and stay on the mats? Something he said right at the beginning stayed with me: “No one ever really sat with me and told me what to do. But here’s what I’ve learned.” That’s important, because after 12 years on the mats, Armand wasn’t talking about a new submission or some secret technique. He was talking about the things he has learned that allow him to continue doing jiu-jitsu. The first thing he talked about was putting a little “armor” around himself. For him, that means resistance training. He’s not interested in becoming a bodybuilder. He wants his body strong enough to better handle the physical demands of jiu-jitsu. Then he talked about sleep. He admitted he didn’t always pay much attention to it. Now he aims for seven to eight hours. He doesn’t always get it, but he recognizes how important rest is to his recovery. And then came something I think many of us learn as we get older: choosing our training partners. Armand said that years ago his attitude was basically, “You want to roll? I’ll roll with you.” Today he thinks differently. That doesn’t mean using age as an excuse. It means becoming more thoughtful about the pace of a round, who you train with, and whether your training allows you to work, learn, and still take care of yourself. I’m 65. I can only speak from what I know at 65, and I would add something to Armand’s list: have the courage to communicate. Tell your training partner what you need. Be honest about your body. Be honest about injuries. Be willing to slow something down. Tap when you need to tap. Choose safety over ego. None of that makes us less serious about jiu-jitsu. I believe it’s part of becoming more serious about longevity in jiu-jitsu. Resistance training. Sleep. Choosing our partners. Communication. None of those things sound particularly exciting. Nobody is going to cheer because you got eight hours of sleep last night. 😂 But maybe these are some of the conversations we need to have more often.

At 65 years old, I find myself in a place I didn’t expect to be. For almost 30 years, a large part of my martial arts life was spent helping to run and operate a martial arts school. I taught. I led. I helped develop students and instructors. I watched children become adults and white belts become black belts. For much of that time, when I walked into a martial arts school, I walked in carrying some kind of responsibility for what happened there. That chapter of my life has closed. And something interesting is happening as I step away from being the operator, the head instructor, the person responsible for the school, and move to the other side of the room. I get to be a student again. At McHugh BJJ, I don't have to run anything. I don't have to be in charge of the class. I don't have to have the answers. I can walk through the door, put on my gi, tie my purple belt around my waist, step onto the mats and learn. There is something incredibly freeing about that. Monday evening I walked into a 6:30 class I had almost never been able to attend because I was always working. Professor Pete McHugh looked a little surprised to see me. I told him, "I have a new schedule now." He smiled and said, "Great." Years ago, during another period of change in my martial arts life, Pete told me something I've never forgotten: "You've got to follow your path." Maybe this is part of that path. At 65, with more than five decades in martial arts and a sixth-degree black belt in Tang Soo Do Moo Duk Kwan, I can walk into McHugh BJJ as a purple belt and be perfectly comfortable being somebody's student. In fact, I'm discovering how much I need it. I need somebody to teach me something I don't know. I need training partners who can catch me. I need to tap. I need to ask questions. I need to struggle with a technique until I begin to understand it. I need to laugh with the people on the mat, get tired, get sore, go home, recover, and come back. For me, especially now, being a student comes first.