The warehouse on Frontage Road is conspicuously empty and quiet. At 6 a.m. tomorrow morning, a group of women will spread through the large space, running through a variety of karate workouts, maybe kicking at the three long black bags that hang near one wall like ominous cocoons. But for now, the room is still, save for the regular shimmers bouncing off of Highway 101’s southbound windshields to dance across the trophy-lined walls.
Shinjin Karate’s Nipomo workout space is not serene in the classic Asian sense. There are contemplative accents here and there—a shiny ornamental fan on a high shelf, for instance—but more prominent is the armless dummy with a scowling face and sculpted abs, the various pieces of protective gear hanging on one wall, and the puce green floor.
This is clearly a room intended for movement. For large movements—the kind that involve sweeping arms, a foot raised to the same level as someone else’s face, and, as the nearly monochromatic padding underfoot implies, the occasional fall.
A first-time visitor could also easily imagine the cavernous space filling with echoing shouts. And while that’s sometimes the case, it’s not necessarily the norm.
“We’re not really a loud-yelling dojo,” says Sensei Rebecca Prewett.
They are—to work in the affirmative—a dojo that focuses on respect, hard work, and something Prewett describes as “ultimate focus,” which incorporates tuning eyes, ears, mind, and body toward the object of attention.
They’re also a dojo that emphasizes fitness, as indicated by their recently launched “New Year’s Resolution Success Program.”
“I realized a lot of people make New Year’s resolutions and don’t keep them,” Prewett says.
That’s not to knock the practice. The sensei posts a series of resolutions at keichu.blogspot.com. There are posts exhorting visitors to “celebrate new beginnings,” “set daily goals,” “start small, finish big,” “set yourself up for success,” and “cut yourself some slack.”
Prewett says she’s a firm believer in resolutions—she’s just not into the cycle of discouragement that can begin spinning when a person, full of good intentions and hope at the start of January, gives up a new fitness regimen a few days into the month because of dwindling interest or lack of encouragement.
To that end, Shinjin Karate’s programs are designed to encourage regular participation. Attendees work out at a variety of fitness levels, and the group setting helps with accountability.
“If [you’re] not here, somebody notices,” Prewett says.
In all, Shinjin Karate offers three basic programs: a regular Keichu Ryu Karate class open to ages 8 to adult, a kids’ class open to 5- to 7-year-olds, and a women-only class that meets early in the morning. The ladies get a cardio workout that also builds flexibility and core strength.
“Women who’ve done it say it’s so good [for] stress busting,” Prewett says.
She’d like to add a family class to the lineup, but doesn’t have anyone signed up yet. And one of her sons leads a regular combat fitness group, which she describes as “basically a group of young guys who come in and work out really hard.” The level of intensity in the combat class is adjustable, however. In fact, it’s adjustable in all the programs. Leaders will match ability to workout, tailoring sessions for practiced kickboxers and mixed martial artists at one end to newcomers who can’t even do one pushup at the other.
The common thread is serious training, the sort that builds confidence while it melts off pounds. Prewett says she’s excited when she sees someone’s dangling belt ties hanging a little longer. That means there’s less around their waist.
The sensei is eager to tout karate’s health benefits that extend far beyond discipline. She fondly remembers attending a 60th birthday party for a friend who’s been training for 40 years and stays young by routinely trouncing younger competitors at championships.
“The oldest student we’ve taught as a beginner was 63,” Prewett says. “It’s really never too late.”
It’s never too early, either. The dojo’s Kid-Karate program starts with the basics of balance, coordination, and focus. Those rudimentary skills lay the foundation for continued training—maybe for decades.
“There’s not many things you could start doing as a child and keep doing your whole life,” Prewett says. m
Executive Editor Ryan Miller can do at least one pushup—or at least he could, last time he tried. Encourage him to get up and moving at rmiller@santamariasun.com
This article appears in Jan 15-22, 2009.