It's Saturday morning

Warren SempaiIt’s Saturday morning, and the final class of 2013. We’re about to do a mind-numbing total of 2,028 kicks and kizami tsuki – 1,014 on the left and 1,014 on the right hand side.

I had awoken stiff and sore, wondering how on earth I was going to manage this class. When Tahmid Sempai took me aside to ask how I was feeling, I said: “I’m going to try, and will adjust as soon as I start to feel discomfort in the lower back.”

The discomfort came at kick number 277, and I told myself I was well within my right to apply Dojo Kun number two. But how could I?

I glanced to my right and saw every other student trying, striving to do each kick. The concentration and strain was etched on their faces. How could I then, as their training senior, take my foot of the gas?

What sort of example would I be setting? Why should I be allowed to dictate how many kicks I feel comfortable with? So I didn’t stop.

I carried on going. With each and every kick, my thoughts were to focus. Focus: Each punch must land at the correct height.  Focus: Each kick must be placed at the knot of the belt… and so it went on and on.

Warren profile1,000 kicks, 1,500 kicks, 2,000 kicks. The pain was ever present and by kick 2014, maybe it was in my head, but I felt like I was spitting fire! But when I glanced to my right once again and saw everyone still trying and striving, I was happy with my decision to put my head down and grind.

The question that hit me the next morning was – at what cost? I’m at my desk, in agony… Four pain killers later, two Transact patches and I can still barely move.

We always emphasize giving your best, with the Dojo Kun in mind. But still, I feel I made the right decision. How could I stop with so many students watching and looking at me? How could I simply stop kicking?

This blog post is by Warren Gregory Sempai >>>>
11 January 2014, 00:23
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