By Rick Simmons - Yellow Belt
When I was a kid, I always wanted to learn a martial art.
My Dad was a jock or, rather, he is a jock. He was a really good baseball player and a fantastic hockey player (he's still playing hockey at 79). My Mom had been a swimmer, but two previous kids along with age and complacency kept her out of the pool by the time I came along. When I was growing up, these were my three sports. We had a pool (because my Mom liked to look at the water), and my Dad coached a lot of my baseball and hockey teams. I was pretty good, especially at swimming, but when it came to the baseball and hockey I was certainly no superstar. I remember being a kid and bringing up the subject of learning a martial art once or twice, but the idea was quickly dismissed by my parents so I simply let it go. But every once in a while, I still thought about it with regret. Why didn't I stand up for what I wanted?
Years passed, life happened and I found myself with children of my own. I swore to myself that I would never push a sport or activity on them. It wasn't that I hated my parents for doing that to me, it's just that I wanted my children to have the voice that I was afraid to have as a kid. When they were ready, my kids would feel comfortable telling me what they wanted to do. Surprisingly, and despite my best efforts, my son ended up a lot like me. He had become unassertive, afraid of embarrassment and (my favourite word) "sensitive." How did this happen?
One day, my son told my wife, quite sheepishly, that he wanted to learn karate. A friend of his was taking classes, and he was interested. When my wife told me I was excited and even a little jealous. I had remembered my desires as a child and thought that this would be great for him. Still, I was cautious. I wanted to make sure that he wanted to take classes for the right reasons. I sat down and had a long chat with him about it. Even at 7 years old he seemed to understand that karate was more about confidence and less about fighting — something I also understood at a young age. My wife and I decided to enroll him in a class.
Fortunately, I happened to have a friend who was Sensei at a karate school. I talked to him about it all and soon enrolled my son in classes. At first, my son was super-jazzed about going. After a while, however, he found the classes long and stressful. I told him that we had paid for a block of classes and that he should finish what we'd paid for: "There are 4 classes left, and if you don't want to continue after that, you can stop." I wasn't happy about this, but it was his choice. When classes broke for the summer, I was surprised that my son's opinion had changed. Not only did he want to continue, but he was committed to becoming a black belt. When karate resumed in the fall, I happily enrolled him in another set of classes, delighted to help him achieve his goals.
When Christmas rolled around, I found myself dressing for an evening out with friends, and I suddenly realized I had nothing to wear — nothing fit! When did this happen? How? I hadn't even noticed it, but years of too much eating, no exercise and an overall disregard for healthy living had taken its toll on a guy with a fast metabolism and a seemingly endless appetite. I wasn't "fat," but I certainly wasn't myself. I felt depressed about it for a few days, and I was just about to accept it all when I remembered my son, my friend the Sensei, and karate.
On January 4th, I texted Sensei and asked if he took adult students. I was met with a fantastic reply that I will never forget: "Fresh meat!" he quipped. He wanted to hurt me, but only to make me stronger. After all, what are friends for?
I attended my first class a couple of weeks later. The class was an hour of sheer pain, but I made it. Then, at the end of that class, Sensei (my friend?) stood up in front of the class and announced: "Next week, we will no longer be training for an hour. Going forward, we will be training for an hour and a half!" Oh dear lord, have mercy!
It took me two days to walk properly after the first class, but I thought, "I'll be ready for the next one. I just have to try harder." After the second class, I was in too much pain to attend the third. Again, I was asking questions to myself like, "How did I get this out of shape?" My son wasn't happy either — he was complaining about the extra work. I realized that I was his role model, just like my Dad was to me. Sure, my son and I were both students, but if I quit, what message was I sending? I decided to persevere.
I then remembered that a couple of days before my first class I had laid down on the floor to see how many sit-ups I could do, which was zero, nada, zip, zilch! I even posted my lameness on Facebook. "How am I going to manage to keep doing this?" I thought. I got back on the floor and managed eight sit-ups — not great, but a marked improvement from a mere three weeks earlier. I realized that I had to think about this rationally. If I'm going to keep up in class, I have got to practice — no excuses. I need to do the stretches, push-ups, katas, all of it. In fact, if I'm truly going to succeed, I may even have to look at that indulgent diet of mine.
And that's just what I did. I started slowly, with about 15 minutes of exercise a day. I did research about diet and exercise. I consulted a friend who is a yoga instructor about poses I could do to improve my flexibility. Within a couple of months, I had completely altered my diet, extended my workouts to an hour or more, five days a week, and incorporated aspects of yoga into my workout. Every week the katas have gotten easier. Every week I feel more prepared for the challenges of karate class.
Of course, the biggest bonus to my story is seeing my son strive and succeed. He has always been an early riser, so I was surprised a couple of weeks ago when he hadn't come out of his bedroom by 7 a.m. I opened the door on my way to wake him up and found him doing his katas. He'd been up for a while and had already done his stretches and push-ups. He doesn't always remember to do them, of course, but more and more he is taking responsibility for himself. He is more confident, self-assured and passionate about everything he does. Recently, I was so proud to see him move from white to yellow belt. All those weeks of training finally paid off for him, and the reward was hard fought and earned. I can now look up to my son and aspire to be a yellow belt just like him.
No doubt, karate isn't the answer for everyone, but it is surely the answer for my son and me. Ultimately, the best lives are lived by those who are passionate about what drives them and doing the things that create success and encourage the highest quality of life. The key with karate is that the message matches the lifestyle. When you dedicate yourself to the philosophy and not just the movements, there is no reason not to succeed. Whatever you choose to be passionate about, do it to the fullest.
If you choose karate, the benefits to health, family and overall well-being are endless.
Thanks for reading,
Rick