Don’t Be Fooled By This Brown Belt… I’m Actually Just An Orange Belt Who Was Generously Promoted Out Of Turn. Eight Times.

I would say that 25% of all my sparring matches or drills involve a full-force knee collision. This is a pretty atrocious record, particularly since I’m supposed to be of the level where I can anticipate when someone is THINKING about kicking, and throw a killer double roundhouse/jumping back kick combo before their central nervous system even sends out a “Leg, kick!” signal. Oops.

One of these days, I will master the art of timing my kicks. Until then, I’m going to practice walking without bending my right knee.

New Year’s Resolutions? Oh, Yeah, Those…

It’s been nearly six months since New Year’s… and in typical INTJ fashion, I have not forgotten about those pesky Resolutions.

1. Lose inches. 
   Since committing to a strict diet about a month ago, I have already lost about 10 pounds, and continue to shed weight by the week.  I can finally fit back into the clothes I wore when I first interviewed in the big city; in fact, they’re actually a bit large now.  Logging everything I eat in a public online profile has made me accountable for my nutrition decisions; knowing that anyone and everyone will know that I had six Oreos for dinner makes me think twice about eating garbage.

   I’m most proud of how I’ve stepped up my fitness routine, however.  Realizing that I averaged just two taekwondo classes per week during my first year and a half with my school, I made a vow in February to start attending every class I could, only skipping when I absolutely had to work late and couldn’t make it back home in time.  As part of that, I even go to class on Saturdays now.  The extra practice is paying off: at the last promotion test, Master Song commented that I had improved since the last time he saw me!  Last but not least, joining the New York Road Runners made my goal of running the NYC Marathon a lot more tangible and real, and incorporating running into my life has probably been my favorite accomplishment so far this year.

After Red-Belt-With-Black-Stripe Comes The Coffee Belt

I am (finally) taking my brown belt test this evening, after postponing it three times.  I’ve been running through Taegeuk 8 in my head since I got up this morning (no, really, I was half-practicing it during my commute).  However, still operating on a sleep deficit since my flight back from Madison on Monday, I could not resist the strong lure of Starbucks when I went out for a walk this afternoon, and sucked down a Venti-sized beverage during the post-lunch lull.

My mistake?  Not opting for decaf.  Now I have a serious case of the shakes.  I am WIRED beyond control, and my hands are very obviously vibrating.  If anyone has a secret (besides a blood transfusion) that will get my caffeine level down to a reasonable place in the next 3 hours, I would love to know it.  Otherwise, let’s just say I’ll be shaking things up at this test.

Ironically, they like to remind us that the color of our belt (they get progressively darker as you advance in rank) represents all that we’ve put into our training and ourselves.  Indeed.

If You Make Fun Of My Plastic Trophy, I Will Kick Your Ass, Too

As of last week, I’ve been doing taekwondo for two years. I really like my school because we’ve had great instructors who push us hard, but in a friendly and often less-structured way. Generally, I have a lot of fun at practice, even when we’re working through brutal drills. Some of the other chains are a lot stricter, with more military-style classes, and very firm start and end times. I realize that’s probably a better system, especially when you’re learning dangerous techniques, but since taekwondo is more “hobby” than “life” for me, I think my dojang is the perfect fit.

During these past 730 days, as I worked my way up from horrifically out-of-shape white belt (seriously, for my trial lesson, I was unable to do one sit-up) to red-belt-with-stripe-and-promotion tape (my brown belt test is this Friday), I refused all invitations to attend tournament events. A tournament represented a wildly unpredictable day of fighting overly-committed people who were more than willing to sacrifice their body (and mine) for a prefab plastic trophy. I knew that I’d be putting myself at risk for serious ankle injuries (or, more devastating to me, a broken wrist), so I stayed far, far away.

However, it was announced about a week and a half ago that if we expected to get our black belts, we HAD to attend at least one tournament. As the days wore on that week, “one” became “two to three” and, by Friday, “three to five.” I made the mistake of mentioning that I wasn’t planning on going to the upcoming event, at which point I was promptly recommended, and handed a registration form. I saw no way out, so I decided to give it a shot.

Back In Black. And Red. With A Smattering Of Iron-On Tiger Patches.

Watch out, world. I am now a red belt. Mess with me and I will show you my hop-step hook kick. You will see it up close because I now have permission to kick to the head. And while I am standing so close to you (ha!), take the moment before you black out to admire the Korean flag, American flag, Kukkiwon, and matching tiger head patches on my uniform. Yeah, you know you’re jealous that you turned in your Star Cards for plastic trophies instead of waiting for the good stuff.