Changing My Life One Kick at a Time by Jenifer Walters

Imagine walking into someplace new and immediately feeling welcome and accepted. Now imagine kicks and punches flying while hearing loud yells resound off the walls. Doesn’t it seem strange to think about both happening in the same place? That was my experience the first moment I walked onto the polished wooden floor of a martial arts school the summer before seventh grade. At that time, I did not know what had just occurred would change me forever and pave the way for the rest of my life.

Tang Soo Do Mu Duk Kwan, the martial art I practice, originated in Korea and was created by Grandmaster Hwang Kee. He originally taught Kwa Soo Do, a different art, but it did not succeed due to its lack of popularity. The date it is said to have been established was November 9, 1945; however, it likely was not formed until 1957. Between 1910 and 1945, Korea was ruled by Japan; Tang Soo Do was formed after Korea gained its independence from the Japanese. Since 1945, Tang Soo Do has spread to thirty-two countries and inspired the lives of many people worldwide.

When I first started taking classes, I was timid and introverted. I  did not have a lot of faith in myself and did not expect to get much from the experience. I quickly learned that there is much more to martial arts than wearing a goofy uniform and shouting occasionally. While I learned to kick, punch, and block properly, I was learning more about myself along the way. I figured I would not get far due to the fact that I was not built like the typical marital artist and I lacked stamina and strength, but to my surprise, everything came naturally to me. What took some people  months to learn, I was picking up in one or two days; the instructors looked to me rather than their higher ranked students to deliver demonstrations. As my skills grew and the belt around my waist changed colors, I discovered my strengths and weaknesses, what I did well, and what I need to work on physically and mentally.

The mental aspect of Tang Soo Do is one-third of what we are taught as martial artists; patience, discipline, and respect were the three main components of these lessons. The phrase “I can’t” was not allowed in the do jang, or martial arts school. This idea of doing what you set your mind to helped me through many struggles not only in my training, but also in life. Whenever I found something to be terribly trying, I thought about all the things I had achieved in the martial arts class, and it help ed me to realize that I could do more than I believed I could. I found I had confidence embedded in me that was not there before I started training; I no longer allowed people to walk all over me. This newly found self-assurance gave me the mental strength I needed to get through my high school years. I became a stronger person and am still discovering things about myself every time I step onto the training floor.

After I had trained for a few months, I started to notice that things that had previously irritated me did not particularly bother me anymore. My temper had become significantly less violent because I had found a constructive outlet that let me release my anger safely. I notice now that when I do not go to class for a week or so, my temper tends to get more explosive. More often than not, when my instructor asks what I want to do in class, my response is “kick stuff” because it makes the world of difference in my daily life if I release some pent-up anger. An immense amount of satisfaction comes from being able to know a 100-pound kicking bag to the floor when you have had a bad day.

Doing martial arts changes more than one’s physical or emotional being; it also has an impact on one’s social life. I have made many more friends since my start in martial arts. The people who had been there before me treated me as if they had known me all my life and were completely nonjudgmental. I felt at home instantly and knew this would be a place I could go to relieve my frustrations through physical expression rather than bottling them up. I also earned a great amount of respect as I continued to train. The proper way to show respect in martial arts is by bowing with your head down and keeping your hands at your sides. As I moved through the ranks, I noticed that I was being bowed to more and more, not only by people in my school, but also by those I had never met. This newly formed respect added to the confidence that I continued to build on my journey through my teenage years.

With hours of training and heaps of knowledge under my belt, I prepared for what might be the hardest task in my life—my black belt test. The amount of physical conditioning I needed to do was almost nothing compared to the mental preparation that was required. The six-hour cardio test and seven-mile walk/run was hard, but that was only half the battle. I needed to believe that I could accomplish it, or it would never happen. The physical exhaustion I felt was nearly overwhelming, but I knew I could not give up. I pushed through the nausea, the blood pounding in my ears, and the stars blocking my sight. The pride I felt after they tied the black belt around my waist was astounding; the injuries I had sustained from having to fight three people at once without protective gear were non-existent at that moment because the pride had been worth the pain.

For every ten thousand people who join martial arts, about half will drop out within the first six months. Of those remaining, approximately one thousand will complete their first year and five hundred will complete their second. A mere one hundred will see their third year of training. On average, ten of the original ten thousand will make it to their black belt, and only one or two students will test for their second degree. Martial arts is not east or simple by any means; if it were, more than ten out of ten thousand would earn their black belt. Having a black belt signifies much more than simply passing a test. It symbolizes one’s growth as a person and the hardships one endured to get to where one is, physically and mentally. A few years, bloody noses, and bruises later, I can call myself a black belt, one who evolved from a shy unsure mouse to a strong independent tiger for whom an art has become a lifestyle.

 

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