I've been thinking quite a bit about my martial arts
training lately. Since the New Year,
I've been in high intensity mode preparing for rank tests in Yoshukai karate
(testing last month) and Kyuki-do (potentially testing around the end of the
year). When I put large amounts of
effort into something, it permeates almost everything I do. I'm walking through forms while performing
mundane tasks at work, composing combinations and self-defense material in my
head on a drive, and generally taking my thought processes to what I would
consider "the next level."
As I mentioned in the previous paragraph, I recently tested
to nidan (2nd degree black belt) in Yoshukai karate and received word yesterday
that I passed. Unlike my shodan test,
the training for which was well-documented in this blog, I didn't make a massive
workout plan and dedicate a whole summer simply to training. At this point in my life, there wasn't time
to be completely single-minded about my training. But, I did turn up the volume on everything I
did. I lost the same amount of fat
weight as I did for the last test, I did high-intensity forms and weapons work
in preparation for non-stop testing (which ultimately didn't happen in the same
way--we had too many people to run everything at once), and I focused my
thoughts in preparation for my next training milestone.
For me, shodan represented a sense of overall
accomplishment. On the other side of a
martial arts student's first black belt test, he/she becomes a black belt, and
on some level, that distinction (if approached with any amount of reverence at
all) remains with him/her for a lifetime.
The students become black belts, and their actions from that point
determine what kind of black belts they will be. Will they be the black belts that fall off of
the radar after a while, celebrating their mark of achievement and then moving
on to new goals and interests? Will they
focus on a single aspect of their art (fighting, forms, history, teaching) and
move to excel towards that one major goal?
Or, will they surrender to the art itself, understanding that black belt
is a mark of a new beginning, dedicating time to the full realization of what
the arts can do?
In the last two years, a large portion of my training has
been on my own. Not alone, mind
you. I have a lot of support in my
martial arts life, so the day to day training activities have been self driven
since I must travel about 130 miles to the nearest practitioner. But, when the day to day activities are solo,
it tests individual drive every day.
After a long day at work, will you take an hour to hone that particular
form under you iron out a few irritating issues completely, or will you veg out
in front of netflix and take a rest? On
your (much too infrequent) day off, will you do something diverting or do about
500 kicks to keep the technique precise?
To me, nidan represents a much more tangible level of
dedication, which moves beyond the "this is a fun activity I do"
aspect of training. From shodan, the
view is mostly backward--"Hey, look how far I've come." Starting nidan, the view I'm finding is,
"I have so far yet to go."
The most important question I'm asking myself right now is,
why do I train? What specifically is it
that is driving me, and how does that inform my values and my martial arts? I believe strongly that question is one we
must all ask seriously, and I am positive that my answer is always going to be
evolving.
I've been training now for five years and six months, which
compared to my black belt colleagues, is really very little time at all. I initially got back into martial arts
because I've always had a fascination with them, and I wanted to have something
outside of my regular work to build upon and strive towards. Martial arts gave me that in spades, and it
continues to inform what I do.
One thing that has surprised me about my training is that it
has reworked aspects of my personality from the inside out. I have a temper, and sometimes it still gets
the best of me. But, that doesn't happen
as much as it used to. In fact, I'm
almost never driven by my temper anymore.
Every interaction I have becomes an exercise in what I've learned in
martial arts. Deflect verbal aggression
with respect, redirecting the conversation to something productive. Approach difficult tasks like learning a
complex form or technique, sometimes breaking down to one bite at a time, while
sometimes taking a holistic approach, feeling my way through the entire
sequence before going back and beginning again from a specifics-based approach.
History still drives a lot of my fascination. One day, when this transitional period of my
life becomes more regular with regards to work and my weekly schedule, I'll
refocus my efforts on the large karate history project I have planned. At this point, now all I really need is the
time to travel and meet with those who've gone before me. I strongly look forward to that day, and I
know it's coming.
I'm older now than I was when I started, and certain
physical things are creeping up on me.
I'm starting to have some issues with my knees, and at least for the
short term, I've had to shorten stances a bit to keep the joints stable. In the upcoming years, I want to build more
flexibility to ameliorate that particular issue so I can enjoy the full
aesthetic of the art. I don't want to
use injury as an excuse for mediocre performance, so it will take a lot of
extra effort to build the surrounding muscles to take some pressure from those
ligaments that are weakening.
I want to attempt some of the traditional martial arts
"feats of strength" like a bat break and defensive feats like doing a
break in shime, which I've seen colleagues demonstrate by having a dowel broken
over their chest from a defensive posture.
I want to test my body in these ways to attempt something new.
I want to continue to experiment and build engagement in my
teaching. I want expansion within my
school, and I want to impress upon them the great joy that a bit of travel can
bring them by engaging with the WYKKO at large.
I want to build stronger relationships within the two major
organizations with which I train. For
some, I'm sure that I'll need to be around a good bit longer before they'll see
the kind of dedication that they consider "lifetime" dedication to
the martial arts.
I want to take my fighting to the next level. Or, to be frank, the next three levels. I'm ok at it, don't get me wrong, but I want
to be formidable, and it will take some serious focus to do that while training
on my own because having a partner in sparring makes the experience so much
broader.
Ultimately, I want to continue moving forward. I think, given the last few years, that is a
reasonable expectation, but I think it's important to write down in order to
set the goals for myself, for my own personal accountability.
In short, I want to step it up. This is why I train.
Why do you train?
