Brown Belt Grading

I MADE  IT! I am now another step closer to making my of goal of getting to my black belt level in karate by the time I turn 60. I'll be 58 this year. I had to dig very deep for this one. I just ran the Ottawa Marathon the week before and that really took its toll. But I wanted this badly, so here we are. I am exhausted but feeling rather pleased with myself over what I have managed to accomplish over the last couple of weeks and of how far I have come over the last few years.

I went into this grading knowing I am still suffering from a bad arm injury, a pretty good case of  plantar fasciitis and just plain tired from the marathon run. I felt a bit apprehensive stepping into the dojo to start my warm-up stretches. There standing waiting for us was my Sensei, and all but one of the black belts from our dojo. They were clearly going over the plans for the evening.

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A grading is suppose to be a challenge. You have to put yourself out there and demonstrate to Sensei and all of the Senpai that you are willing to do just that. In the last few years I have learned what it is to rise to a challenge and just how rewarding it can be to make that challenge. Although I have to admit, I do sometimes have a tendency to go a little overboard and push myself maybe a bit too hard. Sensei knows this about me and approached me as soon as she had finished up with the black belts to remind me not to push through injury. She wants me back, not hurt. This immediately put my mind at ease. She knows what I am capable of and she also know that I am not 100%. So, ready or not, here we go!

The workout was tough. It wasn’t 5 minutes before the sweat was running down my back. I did the very best I could do during the workout. I was reminded a number of times by Sensei to be careful. I have to say I needed this. I absolutely LOVE a good workout. If I am not soaking wet with sweat at the end of a workout, what’s the point??

Next came kata demonstrations. This I did find frustrating. I work very hard at my katas. Tonight, I struggled badly with my balance. All the injuries kept throwing off my balance and forced me to dial down the power.

I like to imagine an opponent coming at me with everything he has, intent on finishing me as quickly as possible. But instead, I will deflect his fast but clumsy attack and then I treat him to a crushing elbow strike, a punch that will flatten him to the ground and a kick that will send him into next week! And on top of that, I will accompany some of these blows with a kiai that comes from my deepest warrior soul. 

This all looks a bit on the bloodthirsty side when I sit here looking at it in print, but it is just using the imagination after all. So not being able to do this with the power and precision I want can be a bit disappointing.

Well I got through my katas and received some corrections and tips from Sensei and the Senpai. I do like this. Katas are such an essential part of karate. This is where everything comes from. Learn your katas well and when or if you have to actually apply what you have learned to protect yourself and/or those around you, you will do it without thinking. You will just do it.

The details that go into a kata are mind boggling. I truly feel if I am not getting corrections or pointers, something else must be wrong. You can never learn too much about even the most basic of moves. And there is a reason for that but we can discuss that another time.

Anyway, here I sit, tired, stiff, a bit sore but happy! I am a runner and a karateka. “Only those who are willing to risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.” T. S. Eliot.

Thank you Sensei.

Mount Everest, The 2014 Ottawa Marathon

I knew when I started this run that I was not where I should be in my training. I had a number of injuries that I was still trying to recover from. But, I had entered and I wanted to participate in this run, so my plan was to just run as far as I felt I could and call it a day.

The run started out jut fine. I started at the back of the pack, slowly built up my pace until I was holding a steady 6:45 per K. I was very happy with this but knew I would not be able to keep it up for very long. As I thought, by about the 18K mark my injuries got the better of me and I was forced to back way off. By this time I couldn't help but notice how busy all the aid stations were getting. People were pulling out as early as the 12K mark. Now in my mind, this had become a challenge. Now I was in it to the bitter end. I wanted that medal!

During this blind-eyed adventure, I think I experienced every emotion there was to experience.

Determination. I was going to finish this thing, one way or another.

Compassion. At around the 25K mark I came up on a young woman who was walking and crying. She was clearly in a lot of pain. I could relate to this. I came up beside her and asked if she was all right. She looked at me and told me through her tear-filled eyes that her knees really hurt. I asked her if she would like me to send back a first aid person for her. She sobbed and said no and then resumed running and sped off. Just a couple of minutes later I came upon her again, walking across the very narrow Alexandra bridge, oblivious to all the runners doing their best not to run into her. I came up behind her and gently guided her over to the side where she would be less likely to be run into. I stayed with her most of the way across the bridge and then got on my way again. I didn't see her again.

Sadness and loneliness. At somewhere around the 32K mark, the best I could manage was speed walking. I was no longer in any kind of group. I had fallen behind most runners but well out in front of the walkers. So there I was, working my way down this long empty stretch of road, not able to run anymore and in a lot of pain. I don't remember ever feeling so lonely. There was nothing I could do but quit when I came to the next aid station. This just made me feel very sad and defeated. I stopped and looked around behind me to see if I could spot the young woman with the bad knees. No one in sight but a couple of slower runners working their way toward me. Where the hell was I? over 7,000 participants started this event. Now I was almost completely alone!

Anger and shame. Here I was, walking!! what the hell!!! In the back of my mind I knew I shouldn't have even started this run. I knew I would end up in trouble if I was silly enough to try and finish it. So the next best thing my head could do was to get angry at my body. I was just a raw emotion. I couldn't rationalize it and at that moment, I couldn't stop it. I was just angry. And at the same time, I was ashamed of myself. When I first entered this run, I had grand plans of not just beating last year's time, I was going to smash it! Now look at me. Reduced to speed walking, and getting slower.

Pain and disappointment. At about the 41K mark I was hit with such a terrible pain in my left calf, it felt like a knife thrust into the side of my calf and then quickly drawn downward toward the ankle. I have never experienced anything even close to that before in my life and hope I never do again. I stumbled and almost fell to the ground. I was able to make my way over to a hand rail that I grabbed on to. NOT NOW! I am just too close! All this suffering and work was going to end within less than 2 kilometers of the finish line. I tried my best to stretch the calf and much to my relief, the pain started to subside. Someone had pulled that knife back out. I was able to start moving again. What a relief. I was going to cross that finish line now, no matter what!

Happiness. I was within 800 meters of the finish line and a volunteer known as a Running Angel came up to me. She could see I was in an incredible amount of pain. She started walking along with me just talking to me, trying to encourage me along. It worked. With her support and encouragement I was actually able to get up to a slow but sloppy run. Style and form counted for nothing now. I could see the finish line. The two of us crossed it together. I MADE IT!! I just about collapsed the moment I crossed the finish line but I was across. Now, where is that stupid medal! I have never worked so hard for anything in my life.

It took me about 20 minutes or so but I was eventually able to move slowly around the recovery area. Sara was there to help and support me. It was over. My second marathon.

When I started running back in 2011, I had set a goal for myself to run one marathon, just to experience it. It seemed like a lofty goal at that time. Now I have done it a second time. I don't know why I signed up for a second marathon. I have climbed my Mount Everest, twice. I must be crazy.

Anyway, I have now run several half marathons, half a dozen 10K runs and I don't know how many other shorter runs. I do think that this is it for me for marathons. So what now? I have already thinking about that one. I want to try trail running. I hear there is a run near Milton this summer that I think I can get in. It is only about 14K long and is 100% on a trail in the woods.

I love a challenge!