My Worst BJJ Injury and How I Recovered
POP!
I hit the floor, clutching my left hamstring. A sharp, searing pain shoots through my leg. I already know—I’m screwed.
For context, I’m at Vita Team Jiu-Jitsu in Carcavelos, just outside Lisbon. It’s open mat, which, for those unfamiliar with Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ), is an open training session where you can spar freely with whoever is around. Today, there’s a visitor. We make eye contact, and he gestures me over for a roll.
He’s wearing the pink belt, the one reserved for people who forget their own belt—engraved with the words I’LL NEVER FORGET MY BELT AGAIN. It tells me nothing about his skill level. As we wait for the timer to start, we make small talk.
He’s a Brazilian living in Germany, probably in his late 20s, visiting with his mum—cool guy. But the whole time, I have a gut feeling this isn’t the best idea. Sparring with someone new always carries an element of risk, but as a white belt, everyone is new to me in some way. I brush off the hesitation.
The clock starts.
I realise quickly—he’s good. My best guess is he’s a purple belt. He moves effortlessly, throwing me around like I weigh nothing. No holding back, no adjustment for my lower skill level.
Less than a minute in, I tap. No surprise there. Tapping out several times in a six-minute round is standard for me at this stage. I reset, trying to hold my own a little longer this time.
Another minute passes. I’m being tossed around with no control over the situation. He has his feet on my hips, and as I step out to the left—a move I’ve done countless times without thinking—
POP!
I collapse. The pain is instant and overwhelming.
My partner doesn’t realise what’s happened until I say “stop” multiple times. When he finally registers it, he barely reacts. No “Are you okay?” No acknowledgment. He just turns his back and moves on to the next roll.
I don’t expect an apology—he didn’t do anything *wrong*, though he did go unnecessarily hard on a white belt. But a simple check-in would’ve been decent. Then again, I get it. He probably felt awkward. No visitor wants to be the guy who injures someone within two minutes of arriving at a new dojo.
It is what it is.
Right now, his reaction is the least of my concerns. I drag myself to the edge of the mat, pain radiating through my leg. Some of my training partners and coaches rush over. It’s clear—I can’t walk. My teacher Ricardo hands me a crutch. My friend Rui offers to drive me home.
The Aftermath
At home, my wife, my younger brother, and my cousin (who are staying with us for the summer) watch me struggle. The pain is unbearable. Eventually, my wife and I decide to Uber to the emergency room. I physically *cannot* walk.
Hours later, the doctor prescribes painkillers and recommends an MRI. A week later, I get the scan at a hospital near my grandad’s place in the south of Portugal—just €18 (what a deal). The result? A grade one hamstring tear. The lowest level of tear. No surgery needed, just rehab, time, and patience.
Does knowing the diagnosis make the pain better? No. But at least I have clarity.
The Recovery Plan
Week 1: Minimal walking. Reduce pain as much as possible.
Weeks 2-6: Upper body workouts only. My cousin and I hit the gym together—he does full-body workouts, I stick to upper body push and pull days. Teenage me would’ve loved an excuse to skip legs.
Week 6: Start physio.
Nutrition-wise, I drop my calorie deficit and eat intuitively. Recovery takes priority, and staying in a deficit could slow it down.
No BJJ either, which sucks. I’d been training six times a week before this.
The Setback
At week six, I finally try to book physio. The earliest available appointment? Almost two weeks away.
That’s on me. I should’ve booked it sooner.
I find a local physiotherapist near my grandad’s place—turns out, he used to train at the same gym I did. He checks my leg and gives it to me straight: “You should’ve come earlier. I would’ve had you doing massages and exercises two or three weeks ago. Now, scar tissue is building up. Luckily it’s not too late and you can still get rid of it.”
Yeah… my bad. I assumed I could get in whenever I wanted because, you know, *private health care.* Lesson learned.
The Climb Back
Once the first physio session is done, my priority is rebuilding strength.
Single-leg exercises become my best friend: single-leg hamstring curls, deadlifts, leg presses, extensions, glute bridges, hip thrusts—you name it.
The first session back is humbling. My left leg struggles to move even the lightest weight on the hamstring curl machine. My right leg? Still strong. The imbalance is glaringly obvious.
That’s when it really hits me. The road to recovery is longer than I thought. And it’s only been two months.
For the next five weeks, I double down on strength training. With no BJJ taking up my time, I train two days on, one day off. The goal? Get my left leg back to full strength.
The Return
Late October, I step back onto the mats.
Three months out. My longest layoff ever. I’m not fully recovered, but I’m close enough to start easing in. The first few sessions are cautious. I treat them as rehab, focusing on movement rather than high standards. My coaches allow me to do my own warm-ups
What surprises me most isn’t the physical challenge—it’s the *mental* block. Injuries mess with your head. Certain movements make me hesitate, not because I *can’t* do them, but because I’m afraid of another tear.
November and December are all about regaining confidence. By the time 2025 rolls around, I’m ready to train normally again.
A Silver Lining
One of my coaches tells me I’m overdue for my blue belt exam. I put in the work, train hard, and pass.
From hitting rock bottom in the summer of 2024—where I felt completely lost without my usual training—to becoming a blue belt just a few months later.
Lessons Learned
1. Trust your gut. I knew sparring with an unknown visitor wasn’t the best idea. I did it anyway.
2. There’s always something you can do. I was on crutches but still trained upper body. You can always adapt.
3. The mental side of recovery is just as important as the physical. The fear of re-injury is real and needs to be addressed.
Final Thoughts
I hope you enjoyed this story. And I hope you appreciate the picture of me receiving my blue belt from my incredible coach, Sergio Vita.
Also, if fat loss is a goal of yours, check out my free 14-day fat loss kickstarter—a daily email series I put together while recovering from this injury.
Think of it as having me in your corner for two weeks, delivering fat loss advice straight to your inbox.
You can sign up by clicking here or the thumbnail below.
Speak soon,
Leo
