After the nationals in July of 1997, I was invited to compete in the AAU Junior Olympics in Charlotte, North Carolina, in the month of August, 1997. I began to double my efforts with visions of taking home the gold from Charlotte.Beads of sweat trickled down my glistening forehead, "Hold it!" my instructor encouraged. "If anyone drops we start over!" After holding my leg extended in a sidekick position for what seemed like an eternity, we switched legs. "Okay, extend and hold for another five minutes!" commanded my instructor. "Yes sir!" the whole class responded.
Tae Kwon Do is a Korean martial art that is time-consuming and extremely demanding, both mentally and physically. Since I was six years, old I have had a passion for the martial arts. The typical stereotype of martial arts is a way to learn to fight and defend yourself; and although that is part of it, there is still so much more. To learn, there must be a structure and discipline. Without discipline to acquire knowledge, there is no respect for what has been learned. I know that this philosophy applies to any kind education which gives the student an upper edge, or certain dominance over others. The discipline that I was taught helped me not to abuse my knowledge and to make friends out of what could have been foes. I have had the opportunity to study this art for nearly five and half years from a wide variety of instructing styles. The one thing held in common by all my instructors was the capability to push me past limits set by myself.
My first instructor was my inspiration to never give up. He enlightened me on his philosophy that people hit walls, where our body tells us "no." If we can ignore this and continue to push, the wall is broken and a new reserve of energy is discovered. During the course of one class my instructor would have me break through five or six walls, to the point where bowing to my instructor became a challenge. He also demanded persistence with his students, but not directly. If I missed one day in the week, I would somehow end up doing more push-ups, more running, and be the kicking dummy for the other students.
As I progressed through the belt ranks and my skills developed, my mental strength also became much stronger. My frame of mind was one of determination. I knew that giving up and cheating just to look better meant nothing, and that I was going to get weaker of I did. Testing was the ultimate challenge to keep my composure and not to break down. After running countless miles and enduring numerous kicking drills I would have to remember every form, each composed of at least twenty or more techniques. The forms themselves were equally as challenging as the workout. Forms require perfect technique: blocks which snap out and lock into position, solid stances with rooted foundations, torso firm, unwavering balance and a movement which reflects confidence.
In September of 1996 I became an assistant instructor. This was my opportunity to give back what I had received. Throughout my four years of studying Tae Kwon Do, I learned the most in the past year and a half, being both an instructor and student at the same time. The first thing I learned from teaching was patience. The majority of students in the studio were children who were hyper-active, had short attention spans, and cried any time it hurt. I constantly had to make the activities, which the children hated to do, seem like fun; but at the same time, have the intended lesson be established and learned.
My new instructor, Jamie Lezchuk, became a second father and brother to me. He gave me inspiration and motivation which surpassed that which any instructor has ever offered me. I began to train not only every day, but hours upon hours of vigorous drills, weight lifting, and running. My life became Tae Kwon Do and all other things were secondary to my goal of making it to the 2000 Olympics in Sydney, Australia. Saturday mornings I would get up at 5:30 in the morning to train in Newark, half an hour from my home in Palo Alto.
After four months with my instructor, I competed in the AAU California State Championships and received a gold medal. Being a state champion, I received an invitation to the AAU nationals in San Antonio, Texas. With four other team mates and my instructor as the trail blazer, we went to fight in Texas with determination. I had a total of two fights, each consisting of three three-minute rounds. The first fight I won, but was defeated by a home-town boy in the final round. I proudly took home the silver medal, but had intentions to take home the gold from my next tournament. After the nationals in July of 1997, I was invited to compete in the AAU Junior Olympics in Charlotte, North Carolina, in the month of August, 1997. I began to double my efforts with visions of taking home the gold from Charlotte.
As I neared competence at the national level, misfortune befell me. While sparring, by my carelessness in miscalculating the distance to my partner, I hyper-extended my left knee. A little more than three weeks before Junior Olympics and I was out of commission. I immediately went into physical therapy, trying to do anything I could to get my knee in working condition for my fight. I watched my teammates train and itched to go out on the floor and join them.
The time came and I was hardly recovered when I went to fight. The only time in three weeks that I kicked was the day of the tournament, to get my muscles warm. Out of about fifteen fighters, who all had their first, second, and even some third degree black belts, I tied for third place. After my final fight I cried, not because I lost, but because I fought with my heart. I felt no anger towards my opponent, but great respect for defeating me. I received my medal and went home stronger than I would have if I had received the Gold medal.
When I returned, I was asked to instruct in the San Mateo location and I gladly accepted. I had the chance again to make a difference in students' lives, this time the students being my own. I had a chance to gain the respect of the current students, not by force, but by influence. I would never reward just an accomplishment, but the effort it took to attain it. Eventually, my students called me "Sir" out of the studio, and anytime I spoke with them they showed me respect. I devoted extra hours of time for which I was not paid, to help out students who wanted to learn more or needed help.
At the same time as I was instructing, in the mornings, I would try to rehabilitate my knee. I joined a workout facility which specialized in youth sports activities to help strengthen the muscles and tendons related with the usage of the knee. I ran and mountain biked to keep in cardiovascular shape, doing anything to keep my body healthy.
In late September, due to not enough business in the San Mateo studio, ABK was forced to close, and I was out of a job. The money was not the biggest loss, but my students, who I had inspired, now had nowhere to go. I felt as if I had lost a part of me, my dreams of having my students someday excel beyond my skill level diminished. My instructor, too, was experiencing difficulties which were far more severe, and affected me as well. His brother had developed a brain tumor a third the size of his brain, and had been unaware of its presence until it was too late to remove it. My instructor stopped teaching to spend time with his brother, but still kept in contact.
For the past few months I have been continuing my knee rehabilitation and have been trying to keep in good shape. Mentally I was blown down by these misfortunes and almost lost my determination, but every time I see my Red-black belt it reminds what it took to get this far and gives me the inspiration to persevere.
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