Practice Makes Progress

                In his book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell repeatedly mentions the “10,000 hour rule” in his analysis of the factors related to high levels of success.  The rule basically states that 10,000 hours of practice are required to acquire real expertise and success in any skill.  He writes that typically, it takes about ten years to reach that 10,000 hour mark.  I found this idea interesting in its potential application with martial arts.

                This brings me to my title:  practice makes progress.  I’m not too happy with the cliché aphorism, “practice makes perfect.”  That’s nonsense.  Practice really and truly doesn’t make perfect.  Putting aside the notion that perfection doesn’t exist, we see practice as the development of long-term habits.  So, practice doesn’t make perfect—instead, practice makes permanent.  This is particularly true in music, where I’ll spend hours with students trying to undo a bad habit that has been cemented in hours and hours of practice.  So, if it’s perfection a practitioner is looking for, the practice itself has to be perfect.

                But, even when there are mistakes, practice joined with a good-faith effort always does one thing:  it moves the person’s skill level forward, if only slightly.  There is always progess.

                When I started getting serious with my martial arts training, I was simultaneously training in Yoshukai, Kyuki-do, and Hapkido.  I averaged about 12-14 hours of class a week.  It’s no surprise that I found myself improving at a much faster pace than when I had been attending 3-5 hours a week (which, to many, is still a lot of hours training).  Although this moved me in the direction I wanted, it wasn’t until I started practicing quite a lot on my own before I really started to notice the improvements that I wanted to see.  12-14 hours of class has become more like 6-8, but for every hour I spend in class, I spend roughly two hours in training on my own.

                The discipline required for a 2-to-1 practice/class hours training ratio is pretty stunning.  There are days that I just don’t want to do it.  But, I’ve always found with martial arts, showing up is the discipline, and the training tends to take care of itself after that.  I’ve found myself at least once a month dragging my feet to head towards class, but after about 15 minutes of good, hard work, I’d forgotten what had me dragging in the first place.  The adrenaline of practice and all those positive endorphins take over, and the results are amazing.

                Talk of results brings me to the idea of mastery.  In my time back in the martial arts, I’ve met quite a few lifetime practitioners.  They’re all different, with different interests, skill sets, and philosophies, but they’re all very much the same.  After twenty-plus years in the martial arts, certain basic ideas become a part of these veterans’ pulses.  When I watch a veteran martial artist work, I’m almost always watching for basic technique.  Don’t get me wrong; there are a lot of beautiful, complex techniques out there.  But, I’d rather see a fantastic front kick from a veteran than see a competent tornado kick from someone around my rank.  It’s simply in a different league.  The technique is an extension of their natural processes, and without all of those years in practice, it would just be a kick.  In the hands of a veteran practitioner, it becomes art.

                I often think about the use of the word “art” in reference to the martial arts.  It’s a loaded term, to be sure.  To some, the martial arts are simply another extension of sports.  And, to be honest, that’s fine with me—there are a lot of people out there, and the martial arts will often benefit those who are just looking to compete and win with the ethos of respect and the inner well-being just because they are training.  Being present counts for a lot in the martial arts.  That front kick won’t get any better if you’re not there, kicking.  Anyways, back to the “art” in martial arts.  For a lot of practitioners, there is a sublime beauty in the physical, mental, and spiritual discipline involved in training.  I’m still comparatively new to training, but I find that challenge in every solo practice session.  Can I polish this form to the point where I cannot think of another thing to work on?  Can I apply everything I heard at the last class to this kick, punch, or block?  Obviously, the answer needs to be “yes.”

                Another great aspect of practice is by taking a lot of time polishing material, new levels of competency open themselves up all the time.  I have a few forms that are favorites, and each of them teaches me something new about the arts when I spend the time to practice them well.  Seisan is like that for me—there is a lot of interesting stuff going on.  But, “practicing well” is the important caveat here.  If I just phone in Seisan, it’s not going to teach me anything.  In fact, it will probably turn on me and make me look like a goof if I just “phone it in.”

                So, there ends a few reflects on practice.  It’s definitely worth thinking about in all that we do.  How much time do we spend practicing the things we want to be great at?  How effective is our practice?  How can we make our practice more effective?  By asking these questions, we tap into the true joy of what we do.  More practice…more joy.