So two weeks ago was my wedding anniversary, and I thought it in bad form to leave my wife with both kids while I went to train and she didn't. The week after that I was feeling a little under the weather and the baby was having some issues, so I bailed again.
I was worried coming back after two weeks off. After all I had only been on for two weeks - so I was worried that I'd have a total regression. I'm happy to say that I did not have a total regression, I actually felt like I didn't miss a beat.
We did a mix of everything tonight, which was great - a little bit of technique, some sparring, some bag work, some prearranged and some forms. It was a great all around work out.
There's not a lot to report now and I didn't have any kind of epiphany besides being happy to finally be feeling like I can get through an hour class without passing out or throwing up. Baby steps I guess, but three classes is all it took. Granted, though I wasn't training hard or frequently - I was training the whole time. I always find time to do some forms during the week. Still, if I can go from completely out of active TKD shape, to feeling like "it's going to be ok" in just three classes (over 5 weeks) - I'm sure you guys can do the same. Those of you that stepped away, and are on the fence about coming back. Take the plunge. It's only hard for the first couple of weeks. If you are worried about not remembering things, come to Tuesday class and I'll work with you until you feel good enough to go on Mon-Wed.
This will likely be my last weekly post - unless something pops in my head to write about. I'm not back yet, not mentally and certainly not physically, but I'm getting there. That's a fantastic feeling and I'll take it.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Monday, September 19, 2016
Monday 9/19 - The Second Step
No one ever talks about the sometimes even more difficult second step on a journey of one thousand miles.
Tonight, this wasn't the case for me. I'm honestly shocked at how not difficult class was for me tonight. We started with a high energy warm up; a mix of calisthenics, shadow boxing, shoulder tag, more calisthenics and then knee tag, before a light stretch. I looked at it like running, and tried not to "sprint" through it. When I was in my 20s, I could go into this sort of training full bore, and still have a lot of energy left at the end of the class. My second night back is not the place to try for this gain. In fact, it has crossed my mind that I may never be in that shape again. Certainly not on the training schedule that I am currently working off of. Maybe that's not a bad thing - I don't know. I'll worry about that later in my training, when the test gets closer.
We parlayed from warmup into line drills. Today I made sure to chamber high - as that was the major takeaway from last week, when I was told I was chambering everything too low. I was tired and dragging last week though - this week I came into class having driven more at work than walked, and actually eating my former pregame hockey meal of spaghetti with some light sauce before class. I felt good coming in.
Then we hit forms, and oh boy, was it an awesome way to get back to forms work. We started with forms by count. Holy crap, I never expected that - what a great tune up! I could have literally stayed there and worked all 24 though I recognize that would have taken hours. In the end, we did about 4 forms this way, and then went into the more traditional small group forms practice to work our highest.
I killed my highest form. I felt really strong, even keeping my balance on the first one legged stance kick in Tong-Il. We train on some really "sinky" mats, so one legged stances are hard to pull off with 100% success. My next time out on the floor it was So-San. At this point there isn't much time left in class, and it wasn't until about 65 moves into that form that I started to feel like I might puke. That's progress!
We finished class doing some prearranged but more in a teaching capacity. The first dan I was working with wanted to work 2-steps, so I showed him how to effectively catch a round kick (because you certainly don't use a circular block to do so).
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I feel really good about this decision to return to class. I felt stronger, by an order of magnitude. I'm still no where near where I want or think I can be, and I'm a little alarmed at how horrible my hips felt by the end. My kicks simply didn't want to come up near the end - so much so that I totally lost my concentration thinking about it through Yon-Gae, and blew the ending. Still, I'm playing the long game this time. I'm 38, and very much so not in martial arts strength. I think it helped me that my hockey games were one time a week, and that's the schedule I'm starting back with in TKD. My body is somewhat used to a major stress, and then having my Tuesday night class to really stretch out and loosen up again. I'm excited, and I'm falling back in love with training again.
Tonight, this wasn't the case for me. I'm honestly shocked at how not difficult class was for me tonight. We started with a high energy warm up; a mix of calisthenics, shadow boxing, shoulder tag, more calisthenics and then knee tag, before a light stretch. I looked at it like running, and tried not to "sprint" through it. When I was in my 20s, I could go into this sort of training full bore, and still have a lot of energy left at the end of the class. My second night back is not the place to try for this gain. In fact, it has crossed my mind that I may never be in that shape again. Certainly not on the training schedule that I am currently working off of. Maybe that's not a bad thing - I don't know. I'll worry about that later in my training, when the test gets closer.
We parlayed from warmup into line drills. Today I made sure to chamber high - as that was the major takeaway from last week, when I was told I was chambering everything too low. I was tired and dragging last week though - this week I came into class having driven more at work than walked, and actually eating my former pregame hockey meal of spaghetti with some light sauce before class. I felt good coming in.
Then we hit forms, and oh boy, was it an awesome way to get back to forms work. We started with forms by count. Holy crap, I never expected that - what a great tune up! I could have literally stayed there and worked all 24 though I recognize that would have taken hours. In the end, we did about 4 forms this way, and then went into the more traditional small group forms practice to work our highest.
I killed my highest form. I felt really strong, even keeping my balance on the first one legged stance kick in Tong-Il. We train on some really "sinky" mats, so one legged stances are hard to pull off with 100% success. My next time out on the floor it was So-San. At this point there isn't much time left in class, and it wasn't until about 65 moves into that form that I started to feel like I might puke. That's progress!
We finished class doing some prearranged but more in a teaching capacity. The first dan I was working with wanted to work 2-steps, so I showed him how to effectively catch a round kick (because you certainly don't use a circular block to do so).
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I feel really good about this decision to return to class. I felt stronger, by an order of magnitude. I'm still no where near where I want or think I can be, and I'm a little alarmed at how horrible my hips felt by the end. My kicks simply didn't want to come up near the end - so much so that I totally lost my concentration thinking about it through Yon-Gae, and blew the ending. Still, I'm playing the long game this time. I'm 38, and very much so not in martial arts strength. I think it helped me that my hockey games were one time a week, and that's the schedule I'm starting back with in TKD. My body is somewhat used to a major stress, and then having my Tuesday night class to really stretch out and loosen up again. I'm excited, and I'm falling back in love with training again.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Monday - 9/13/16 Welcome Home
Nostalgia was thick as I pulled up. Fall is finally in the air a bit, and since I started training, way back in 93 in the winter, I always associate cool air and training. I'm a 5th dan and I've been training for so long, but I still get a bit of an adrenaline rush when I pull into the parking lot. "Who's going to be in tonight, who will teach, what will we do" the questions flood my mind and overload it. It's an awesome feeling.
I was really early - I prefer to always be really early, I secretly imagine I train under Coach Couzo, and his first rule was "Do not be late, don't ever be late" - so I'm sitting quietly in the parking lot. As is often the case, my mind wonders back to my mid teens, when my two cousins would have been with me, and we'd be getting dropped off at the school after high school for two of us. Those were such good times, and times when the aforementioned questions would have had greatly different potential answers. The thing is, I know who will be in class, for the most part, and I know who is teaching.
I get dressed, and get out on the floor, awkwardly holding both my uniform bag and my sparring equipment bag, and not really knowing where to stand because there is a kids class going on, and there are parent trying to watch their kids and I don't want to block sight lines. I follow some of the regulars to a portion on the side of the room. The instructor of the kids class, a man that trains regularly in the class I teach is discussing proper respect for martial arts elders and they stop and bow to the masters on the side (as there are now 4-5 of us). He's a fantastic teacher, and though I once held his job, and had young eyes hanging on my every word, I wonder how he does it, because those days seem like an eternity ago and I honestly don't remember.
Class ends, and I look across the room as the kids leave, and I see someone I never thought I'd ever see again. There in front of me is my first ever student when I ran my own TKD program in our school's ill fated 2nd location. He was my first black belt. This random night that I decided to start my journey back to good TKD shape has yielded a treasure.
We didn't always see eye to eye, he and I, but I was proud of his TKD at the end. He left to go explore what other arts could do for him - and I respect that. I'm happy to see him, and though I don't really like to show much emotion at class, I hug him, because he was my first student and even though we didn't see eye to eye, he was loyal and got his first dan under me - one of three people that I got to tie the entire belt on, though I had help from my favorite training partner towards the later part of my three black belts' training.
So class starts, another one of my Tuesday regulars (and my scuba diving partner) is running warmup. It's novel, and I'm impressed with his command of class, not that I expect anything less from a former military man, but still, I know he doesn't teach often, and I'm impressed. He'll have some things to learn about running an effective warmup, inexperience mistakes, but good exercises. I'm loose when class proper starts.
Holy crap this is so hard. I spend the first part of class wondering if my groin will go out on me first or if I'll have to run off the floor and vomit first. Of course I'm wondering what the hell I am doing out here. There are older and younger people around me, but I feel so out of place. I'm my own worst critic, and I absolutely hate what I see in the mirror. I can't kick high any more. I've lost it, I used to kick so good, and so high, now I'm focusing on my technique, and focusing on kicking without leaning. My core is relatively strong thanks to PT for a back injury, but everything else is way out of TKD shape. It's hard. I remind myself that I don't teach TKD for a living any more. I sit behind a desk for 8 hours a day, and then I come home and do dad things. - In my late teens and early 20s, I lived at home, had few bills and to pay and spent about 28-30 hours in a TKD school. When I didn't have cleaning to do, or lesson plans to write, I was training. I can't hold myself to those standards. I have to reinvent myself for 38 years old, and I tighten my resolve.
Still, it's very hard, and I get through class without getting hurt, or vomiting - which is always a win in my book. This was the metric that I carried in my last 4 ice hockey seasons in the first couple of games when I wasn't quite in shape yet. No reason to change the metric.
The one place where I can shine, forms practice, doesn't go how I hoped. We practiced low forms only tonight, and though I have neglected almost all of my training, my high forms are strong, and there is muscle memory there, so I have more endurance for them.
I walked in the door pretty bummed. I'm going to need a lot of work, and I'm never going to be where I was in my 20s. I've had a minor hip surgery for crying out loud, and recently gave up playing hockey because my hips just can't take it. This is ok, this is what getting older (and having not so awesome genes) gets you. My wife talks me down from a not so high mental cliff, reminding me when I childishly say "God, I looked so bad, I can't imagine what other people thought"that good students (like the ones we train with) are concerned about themselves not their classmates. She's right, and it does me a world of good to hear it.
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As I proofread (probably poorly because I am whooped) this post, I realize that it doesn't paint a pretty picture. I'm whiny and soft. I've been away too long but even though it was difficult, I didn't give up. I put one proverbial foot in front of the other and moved forward. I don't have much to show for it, but it is how all great things start - very small. In the words of Pai Mei from Kill Bill - "THIS IS THE BEGINNING". And so it is. This is my take away, it starts by starting, that's the secret to getting back in there. It's going, it's pushing through the pain, and thinking rationally that things changed. Then you can really start.
I was really early - I prefer to always be really early, I secretly imagine I train under Coach Couzo, and his first rule was "Do not be late, don't ever be late" - so I'm sitting quietly in the parking lot. As is often the case, my mind wonders back to my mid teens, when my two cousins would have been with me, and we'd be getting dropped off at the school after high school for two of us. Those were such good times, and times when the aforementioned questions would have had greatly different potential answers. The thing is, I know who will be in class, for the most part, and I know who is teaching.
I get dressed, and get out on the floor, awkwardly holding both my uniform bag and my sparring equipment bag, and not really knowing where to stand because there is a kids class going on, and there are parent trying to watch their kids and I don't want to block sight lines. I follow some of the regulars to a portion on the side of the room. The instructor of the kids class, a man that trains regularly in the class I teach is discussing proper respect for martial arts elders and they stop and bow to the masters on the side (as there are now 4-5 of us). He's a fantastic teacher, and though I once held his job, and had young eyes hanging on my every word, I wonder how he does it, because those days seem like an eternity ago and I honestly don't remember.
Class ends, and I look across the room as the kids leave, and I see someone I never thought I'd ever see again. There in front of me is my first ever student when I ran my own TKD program in our school's ill fated 2nd location. He was my first black belt. This random night that I decided to start my journey back to good TKD shape has yielded a treasure.
We didn't always see eye to eye, he and I, but I was proud of his TKD at the end. He left to go explore what other arts could do for him - and I respect that. I'm happy to see him, and though I don't really like to show much emotion at class, I hug him, because he was my first student and even though we didn't see eye to eye, he was loyal and got his first dan under me - one of three people that I got to tie the entire belt on, though I had help from my favorite training partner towards the later part of my three black belts' training.
So class starts, another one of my Tuesday regulars (and my scuba diving partner) is running warmup. It's novel, and I'm impressed with his command of class, not that I expect anything less from a former military man, but still, I know he doesn't teach often, and I'm impressed. He'll have some things to learn about running an effective warmup, inexperience mistakes, but good exercises. I'm loose when class proper starts.
Holy crap this is so hard. I spend the first part of class wondering if my groin will go out on me first or if I'll have to run off the floor and vomit first. Of course I'm wondering what the hell I am doing out here. There are older and younger people around me, but I feel so out of place. I'm my own worst critic, and I absolutely hate what I see in the mirror. I can't kick high any more. I've lost it, I used to kick so good, and so high, now I'm focusing on my technique, and focusing on kicking without leaning. My core is relatively strong thanks to PT for a back injury, but everything else is way out of TKD shape. It's hard. I remind myself that I don't teach TKD for a living any more. I sit behind a desk for 8 hours a day, and then I come home and do dad things. - In my late teens and early 20s, I lived at home, had few bills and to pay and spent about 28-30 hours in a TKD school. When I didn't have cleaning to do, or lesson plans to write, I was training. I can't hold myself to those standards. I have to reinvent myself for 38 years old, and I tighten my resolve.
Still, it's very hard, and I get through class without getting hurt, or vomiting - which is always a win in my book. This was the metric that I carried in my last 4 ice hockey seasons in the first couple of games when I wasn't quite in shape yet. No reason to change the metric.
The one place where I can shine, forms practice, doesn't go how I hoped. We practiced low forms only tonight, and though I have neglected almost all of my training, my high forms are strong, and there is muscle memory there, so I have more endurance for them.
I walked in the door pretty bummed. I'm going to need a lot of work, and I'm never going to be where I was in my 20s. I've had a minor hip surgery for crying out loud, and recently gave up playing hockey because my hips just can't take it. This is ok, this is what getting older (and having not so awesome genes) gets you. My wife talks me down from a not so high mental cliff, reminding me when I childishly say "God, I looked so bad, I can't imagine what other people thought"that good students (like the ones we train with) are concerned about themselves not their classmates. She's right, and it does me a world of good to hear it.
--------------------------
As I proofread (probably poorly because I am whooped) this post, I realize that it doesn't paint a pretty picture. I'm whiny and soft. I've been away too long but even though it was difficult, I didn't give up. I put one proverbial foot in front of the other and moved forward. I don't have much to show for it, but it is how all great things start - very small. In the words of Pai Mei from Kill Bill - "THIS IS THE BEGINNING". And so it is. This is my take away, it starts by starting, that's the secret to getting back in there. It's going, it's pushing through the pain, and thinking rationally that things changed. Then you can really start.
Let's Change Gears - an Update
Oh hi! So I'm going to change gears a bit on the site, and the next few posts might not be very interesting for some. I'm training for my 6th dan test - which is tentatively scheduled for the Spring of 17. I say tentatively because I go on vacation in April, when the test is likely to be, and as I fly, and the people I travel with must pick their time off months in advance, I'm stuck and if the test gets scheduled while I'm on vacation - well, it's another 6 month wait. I'm not worried or bothered by this, as it is something that just is. I could just as easily get hurt or have some other reason sideline me, no sense worrying about things you can't control.
So I thought, perhaps instead of hard core analysis which I am pretty burned out about (obviously, since it's been a long time since my last post) and because my "serious" writing is focusing on the book I am currently writing; I thought I'd make the next few blog posts and actual blog of a specific topic in particular, and one I hope many of my readers will take to heart, because many of my readers, don't train anymore.
I'm going to write about my experiences training after not training hard for a very long period of time. My hope is that my insight might just convince some people to come back to the art, because there are some very good people out there that I know loved it, but life happened, and the thought of going back can be intimidating to say the least.
So I'm going to be bloggy for a while. I'll talk about my emotions and stuff, and try to just flex a different style of writing and relating, that will hopefully not explode on the launch pad. I haven't written consistently like this since my like 2nd attempt at college (I finally beat the college level on my 3rd try in my 30s - don't recommend it, unless you know you are in your 30s and want a degree, at which time I highly recommend it, but I digress...)
So - as I plan on training every Monday night in our adult class from 7:10 to 8:10 or as long as you want to stay after, I figured I'd write about what it is like to come back, my observations and insights.
So I thought, perhaps instead of hard core analysis which I am pretty burned out about (obviously, since it's been a long time since my last post) and because my "serious" writing is focusing on the book I am currently writing; I thought I'd make the next few blog posts and actual blog of a specific topic in particular, and one I hope many of my readers will take to heart, because many of my readers, don't train anymore.
I'm going to write about my experiences training after not training hard for a very long period of time. My hope is that my insight might just convince some people to come back to the art, because there are some very good people out there that I know loved it, but life happened, and the thought of going back can be intimidating to say the least.
So I'm going to be bloggy for a while. I'll talk about my emotions and stuff, and try to just flex a different style of writing and relating, that will hopefully not explode on the launch pad. I haven't written consistently like this since my like 2nd attempt at college (I finally beat the college level on my 3rd try in my 30s - don't recommend it, unless you know you are in your 30s and want a degree, at which time I highly recommend it, but I digress...)
So - as I plan on training every Monday night in our adult class from 7:10 to 8:10 or as long as you want to stay after, I figured I'd write about what it is like to come back, my observations and insights.
Monday, May 23, 2016
To-San - A Form of Firsts.
To-San is the 3rd form of the Chang-hon form set, and is the first form that features kicking. It has 24 movements and is mostly symmetrical. There are many foundational skills featured in To-San so it offers an excellent opportunity for beginners transitioning to the intermediate level, but also offers a place for seasoned veterans to improve on skills that are essential in the higher forms.
I love reviewing / analyzing the lower forms because we can pinpoint many of the "first time" movements and To-san features several. To-San starts with an outer block and for the "first time" features a reverse technique with its reverse punch followup. This is the first time a student will execute a block / counter in the same stance and so it is an important part in a student's development. Also a first, is what we call the "half step, half step" turn. I'm referring to moving your front foot across the body about a half step's width, and then your back foot a half step's width to complete the turn to 180 degrees to your right. This becomes an essential movement in later forms and can be practiced early here. Many hours will be spent by the beginner getting the timing of the first four moves of To-San correct, without looking too fast, too slow and or too off balance. From there we proceed to a knife hand guarding block and into what we call a straight spear-finger.
Here we get into another first. Off the spear-finger, we see one of the first clear hold escapes; at least, that's what I was always taught the downward turn of the hand (upward turn of the right elbow) was supposed to be. It is an interesting case of an actual application outside of punching, kicking, and blocking being openly visible. I don't believe the movement to be anything more than an escape from a wrist grab, though I recognize, that like many movements in nearly all the forms, that you can interpret it in many ways. As it has been a while since I wrote a forms analysis article, let me remind people right here that I subscribe to the notion that the simplest interpretation of a movement is probably its intended application. I bore quickly when playing the "well, it could be this..." game. I think 9 times out of 10, the movement is either meant to block something, or strike something.
Another interesting technique is the traditional back fist. This is also the first time we will throw this technique in a form. I find this technique particularly interesting, because unlike our straight and reverse punches, the traditional back fist is thrown very different from how it is in application. In sparring, the back fist is thrown parallel to the ground (most times) and is executed with a snapping motion that is contrary to the execution of its traditional forms application.
After a repeat of the opening moves, albeit with a 270 degree turn, we execute what we call an outer forearm wedging block (your vocabulary probably differs) and finally we see our first kick.
In my opinion, in a form already consisting of many "firsts" none is as important as the execution of the front kick, transitioning into a forward landing with a punch-reverse punch sequence. So many lessons will be learned here, and so many good or bad habits will be created right here in the third form. Paramount to all the the nuanced lessons you can take from the wedge to front kick to punch-reverse punch sequence is the idea that just because you are on one leg doesn't mean reaction force goes out the window. The front kick needs to be completed, with a proper re-chambering of the kick coming to a complete stop, before the hands adjust to the proper chamber position for the straight punch. Many students will struggle here, with balance, timing and finesse but the skills being worked in this very short sequence are so important later on / higher up in the forms list.
The form finishes with symmetrical high blocks leading into symmetrical knife hand strikes from horse stance. If you are an instructor reading this, you may be facepalming at the thought of how many times your yellow belts did the end of Dan-gun for To-san, or vice versa. It's not just you, don't worry. I facepalmed while writing this - because it happens all the time.
To-san is a great form, and really is the first form to me that feels "Taekwon-do". Although as I do more research on forms and I learn more and more that our beloved Chang-Hon forms are really just "Frankenstein's monster" variations of the Japanese forms; I can't help but feel like when they were constructing To-san, they really got it right. Far from an original creation, To-san, to me captures what I think they were shooting for in how they wanted TKD to look. To-san may not be "original" (go watch the heinan forms - in particular heinan yodan), but perhaps just like music, someone had to play certain note sequences the first time, and the fact that a great song is built from building blocks earlier used doesn't negate the greatness of the song that came after.
I love reviewing / analyzing the lower forms because we can pinpoint many of the "first time" movements and To-san features several. To-San starts with an outer block and for the "first time" features a reverse technique with its reverse punch followup. This is the first time a student will execute a block / counter in the same stance and so it is an important part in a student's development. Also a first, is what we call the "half step, half step" turn. I'm referring to moving your front foot across the body about a half step's width, and then your back foot a half step's width to complete the turn to 180 degrees to your right. This becomes an essential movement in later forms and can be practiced early here. Many hours will be spent by the beginner getting the timing of the first four moves of To-San correct, without looking too fast, too slow and or too off balance. From there we proceed to a knife hand guarding block and into what we call a straight spear-finger.
Here we get into another first. Off the spear-finger, we see one of the first clear hold escapes; at least, that's what I was always taught the downward turn of the hand (upward turn of the right elbow) was supposed to be. It is an interesting case of an actual application outside of punching, kicking, and blocking being openly visible. I don't believe the movement to be anything more than an escape from a wrist grab, though I recognize, that like many movements in nearly all the forms, that you can interpret it in many ways. As it has been a while since I wrote a forms analysis article, let me remind people right here that I subscribe to the notion that the simplest interpretation of a movement is probably its intended application. I bore quickly when playing the "well, it could be this..." game. I think 9 times out of 10, the movement is either meant to block something, or strike something.
Another interesting technique is the traditional back fist. This is also the first time we will throw this technique in a form. I find this technique particularly interesting, because unlike our straight and reverse punches, the traditional back fist is thrown very different from how it is in application. In sparring, the back fist is thrown parallel to the ground (most times) and is executed with a snapping motion that is contrary to the execution of its traditional forms application.
After a repeat of the opening moves, albeit with a 270 degree turn, we execute what we call an outer forearm wedging block (your vocabulary probably differs) and finally we see our first kick.
In my opinion, in a form already consisting of many "firsts" none is as important as the execution of the front kick, transitioning into a forward landing with a punch-reverse punch sequence. So many lessons will be learned here, and so many good or bad habits will be created right here in the third form. Paramount to all the the nuanced lessons you can take from the wedge to front kick to punch-reverse punch sequence is the idea that just because you are on one leg doesn't mean reaction force goes out the window. The front kick needs to be completed, with a proper re-chambering of the kick coming to a complete stop, before the hands adjust to the proper chamber position for the straight punch. Many students will struggle here, with balance, timing and finesse but the skills being worked in this very short sequence are so important later on / higher up in the forms list.
The form finishes with symmetrical high blocks leading into symmetrical knife hand strikes from horse stance. If you are an instructor reading this, you may be facepalming at the thought of how many times your yellow belts did the end of Dan-gun for To-san, or vice versa. It's not just you, don't worry. I facepalmed while writing this - because it happens all the time.
To-san is a great form, and really is the first form to me that feels "Taekwon-do". Although as I do more research on forms and I learn more and more that our beloved Chang-Hon forms are really just "Frankenstein's monster" variations of the Japanese forms; I can't help but feel like when they were constructing To-san, they really got it right. Far from an original creation, To-san, to me captures what I think they were shooting for in how they wanted TKD to look. To-san may not be "original" (go watch the heinan forms - in particular heinan yodan), but perhaps just like music, someone had to play certain note sequences the first time, and the fact that a great song is built from building blocks earlier used doesn't negate the greatness of the song that came after.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Effective Testing Preparation - Part 1
Spring in Pennsylvania, like many places brings a big change to the weather. For my school, spring is also one of the times we have local dan testing and thus it brings big changes to our training patterns. My classes in late February slowly begin to become more "curriculum" heavy as spring rolls in, and by mid April, we're into full on testing focus. Testing is heavily on my mind right now so I thought I'd share my take on testing. If you are reading this from outside of my organization your mileage my vary as our tests may not align in structure or challenge. I plan on writing a part two to this post, where I will hopefully compile some of my favorite martial artists's takes on test prep. So far though, only one person has gotten back to me, so I may remove the "part 1" later.
I'd like to start by speaking generally about testing prep, and then working into more specific concepts.
One of the foundations to a strong test is good class attendance, which is more than just showing up. Anyone can show up to a class, go through the movements, break a sweat and go home. This sort of zombie training is a student's constant enemy when the time between test cycles goes from months to years to many years. The struggle is really real here, and it is up to you, to battle your internal auto pilot and stay tuned in and engaged. I've written about auto pilot before with regard to forms practice, but auto pilot is something to fight against throughout all of your training. Ask questions, experiment, and apply what you've learned in the past (when appropriate), to other aspects of your training. Although perhaps a topic of a future post, the students who never question, never apply, and never really engage the art are often times the ones with poor testings and aren't long for quitting entirely. Don't be that guy.
Another generalization about testing is in regard to physical fitness. Our dan tests are not very physically demanding, but that being said, you'll get only a very short recovery time in between forms. This is no secret and no surprise, so train accordingly. The final three dan tests (3rd to 4th through 5th to 6th) have very demanding form sets. 3rd to 4th sees you perform the 2nd longest form, 4th to 5th sees you perform the hardest 3 forms in the entire Chang-hon form set and 5th to 6th features 4 forms instead of 3 with the longest form thrown in for insult to injury. Knowing that you get one chance to do all three forms that day, you'll want to put your best foot forward for each. Being prepared for the physical demands of this is paramount to having a test you can be proud of. An easy strategy to help you with this is to do each form in sets of 3, with limited space between reps.
One final piece of general advice I have for you is to attend testings that are not your own. The more familiar you are with the process, the less stressful being on the floor will be. If possible, volunteer to be someone's partner and take part in tests that you are not being graded on. When you have years between testings, actually getting on the testing floor when not testing can become a valuable mental tool for when your turn to test is up. It will give you something to think about as you prepare and will numb some of the anxiety of being "on the spot" that testing can invoke.
Forms Prep
The first of the three segments of the test is for most people the most daunting. At higher dan levels it really shouldn't be as you've been ultimately focusing on the same three to four forms for years but there's something about the hush of the crowd that derails many a usually good practitioner. To prepare for testing, I do three types of forms training leading into my test.
First, I practice movement retention and endurance. Here I am only interested in going through the movements hard and strong almost as if I were testing. I block out thoughts of "am I doing this right" because by now, I should know this form, my instructor should have seen me perform it many times and any and all corrections should be complete if not well on their way to being complete. This is important, because I feel like it is this training method that "locks" the form in the most. Care must be taken that you don't do too much of this training until you are sure your form is right where you and your instructor wants it.
The second version of forms prep I use is slow forms. Here, I purposely slow my movements down to make sure my mechanics are working right. Going slower allows me to focus on attribute training in my forms. I can work timing, power, intensity, stance definition, body control or any other attribute I might need to work on. Sometimes I'll simply work on one sequence of a form when I really want to focus in and improve that area. Unless I'm specifically working on power generation, I won't worry about doing my forms "hard" here. Often times I am searching for the "mental switches and levers" that must be pulled to execute at the highest level, so just focusing on breaking the auto pilot and engaging the controls is practiced here. I will usually perform these two methods in equal parts.
The final version of forms prep I use is dry-running. As we never know the order of the form set we'll be performing, I'll do my three (or four) forms, one time, at performance level in a random order. I'll run through the forms one right after another just like I will on testing day. While doing this, I'll visualize myself at the test. I've been to many tests, so I can mentally paint a very accurate picture of what the room will look and sound like. I won't do this exercise more than two times a session, just because at the test, I only get one shot. I want this training to feel as close to the testing experience as possible. If I have a bad showing, I smile, and be happy that today wasn't my test. If I have a good showing, I try to replicate that the next time I do this exercise. I like this practice at the start and finish of a hard forms practice.
As far as a schedule goes, this is going to vary with your comfort level with forms in general. We all have a level of comfort when it comes to ample practice time. Some like to start training months in advance, for others, weeks are fine. Speaking anecdotally, the fastest I ever got ready for a dan test was 3 days. For the record, I was at the TKD school 6 days a week and would often train 2-3 hours per day, so I was very much so ready to go whenever. Conversely I trained for months to prepare for my 4th dan test because I knew I'd be testing in front of our grand master that day. I was at two different places in life for those two tests, and on both tests, I felt very very strong. For 4th I was no longer in a place in life where I could devote uncountable hours to training. To balance this, I started several months earlier. These different ways to look at forms though will help organize the chaos that can sometimes fill your mind when it comes to test prep.
Prearranged
The next section of testing is our prearranged section. I think if people had to pick their favorite part of their tests, most people would pick this section. There are often times at least 10-12 people up at once, and the feeling that everyone is watching you is usually a bit less for this part. The reality is, this is correct. While it is easy to track and watch 5-10 people all doing the same form, it's much harder to watch 5-6 groups of two do prearranged, so it is true that there are less eyes on you during this section, and if performance anxiety is your enemy, this is your time to shine.
Personally, I find this section to be the hardest to prepare for, for a couple of reasons. First, to practice this effectively, you'll need a partner. Second, most of the time you won't know every aspect of prearranged that is going to be asked of you. While some of the mainstays are a given, you'll never know when a Master might call out for something off the cuff. Being mentally prepared has served me well, and I'd invite you to again mentally prepare to the fullest for your prearranged section. For my 4th dan test, on the day of testing the candidates going for 4th were told we'd be doing club defense. I had no idea this was coming, was absolutely dreadful at weapons defense at the time and felt panic creeping up my spine. I did what I would hope any good black belt would do, I accepted it, and then I improvised, adapted and overcame the situation. My club defense was probably the weakest portion of that test, but I didn't let that affect any other portion of my test, so it was a victory for me nonetheless.
Like all testing, you cannot let the unexpected, and or a mistake foil your efforts. I've seen it so many times; someone makes a mistake in an early portion of their test and that mistake takes root in their psyche like a weed and ruins the rest of their test. The candidate loses confidence, makes more mistakes, and a cycle forms. Mentally building a wall around those mistakes (seriously, I imagine the mistake kind of like a spore, that I put a brick wall around) will help you.
The best advice for actual prearranged is to practice it all, whenever you can - and the stuff that is harder to practice (things like 3 on 1 sparring) make sure you understand the concept and visualize yourself succeeding in doing what you want to do in the match. If you memorize your prearranged responses, be ready--mix them up so that you can fire them off with instinct level speed and effort. If you are an improvisor, relax, and do what you do. I find this section to be pretty cut and dry, the people that look good are often times the people who asked a classmate to partner up before or after classes and worked extra time on their prearranged. In this case, it really is that simple.
Breaking
The final portion of our tests is the breaking portion. Although this section is now undergoing a radical change in our org, all dan candidates are still required to break somewhere. Although only 4th and above are now breaking at the public test, all ranks below that still have to pass a breaking portion. As I have a love hate relationship with breaking for testing (see my blog post and article on breaking featured in Totally Tae Kwon Do magazine), my views on breaking are very pragmatic. Breaking is one of the least ambiguous sections of testing. There's always a breaking requirement, a set number of stations that needs to be broken, and the actual breaking of the boards. Rarely do you get a list of variables that are so concrete and easily measurable. Unlike what makes a good form execution a good form execution - no one can argue with a non broken board.
If your requirement is for example, a two station break, with one station consisting of a spinning back kick, why would you go out and try to do a six station break? You're only graded on your requirements, and while it is natural and desirable to spice things up it is best to do so within the confines of the parameters of the requirement. I look at it like this, if I am told to do a 3 station break, I'm doing a 3 station break. My rationale is that if I break the first three stations, and then miss the 4th, I get a failing grade for not breaking all stations - even though I accomplished the requirement. There is no extra credit, you live by the break you choose and die by the break you choose, so choose wisely. Don't be afraid to stretch inside the confines of the break, but at the same time, make sure you don't over stretch into something that is a gamble. You only get one test (unless you fail I guess) so you need to be happy with your showing. Speaking personally, I remember every board that didn't break - and have to watch videos of the ones that did to remember them.
Your dan test is not the place to try something new, or experimental--remember that the purpose is to show that the techniques you pick have the power to do bodily harm if you need them to. The purpose of your break at testing is not to wow the crowd, or impress the board. Though it never hurts to impress the board, I'm always impressed by a cleanly delivered break and the flow from station to station. I don't need to see someone jump over a table blindfolded at a test. At the end of the day, it is the how of the break, not the what, that wins the day. Nothing bothers me more, than to see someone trying to do something overly complicated, or overly daring and missing stations. I want to see if your technique execution could cause pain, I have very little care about your ability to jump over a motorcycle.
Specifically, once your simple but effective and technique level appropriate break is decided, practice it. Air shields are a good start to see if you can get real power on each technique. After that, switch to smaller targets. The pieces of wood we use are cut almost like a sheet of paper, so copier paper makes for a great stand in for real wood. Speaking of real wood, if you have the means, a few shots at the actual break is a great idea. I like to run through my break with real wood a week or two before I test. If it breaks easy, I know I have nothing to worry about.
Another skill in breaking is picking good holders, positioning them properly and making sure they are holding to support the break. Look for bent elbows, bad stances and don't be afraid to tell your holders to look away if you fear they are going to flinch. This is your test, you're going to be the one who fails this portion - regardless of a bad hold. This is unfortunate, as a bad hold can make even the best technique fail to break.
This is largely how I approach testing preparation. As our dan tests are in my opinion much more of a mental challenge than a physical one, you'll see the heavy emphasis on mental preparation and visualization. My views towards breaking may not be the official views of the organization, but approaching breaking the way I have has never garnered me criticism. Whenever I have broken cleanly I have always been complimented for my breaks. It should be noted I'm not saying everyone should come out and break with straight punch, front kick and side kick, but again, blindfolded table jumps with motorcycles are best left for the demo and tournament circuits.
If there is a final thought that I have on testing it is this. Your instructor wouldn't put you out on the floor if he or she didn't believe you were capable of passing the test. Have faith in that! You are given a valuable piece of motivation fuel just by being invited, don't squander that with self doubt and pointless thoughts about "but am I really ready". You are ultimately doing the mental equivalent of openly questioning your instructor, something I doubt you'd do to his face. Testing is ultimately the beast you make it to be. In the Hagakure there is a saying: "Matters of great concern should be treated lightly...Matters of small concern should be treated seriously." taking this slightly out of context and applying it here is apt. I look at it like this: worry about the small things you do in testing, because the big things, are probably not big deals at all...in fact, the big problems you think you have probably don't exist at all.
I'd like to start by speaking generally about testing prep, and then working into more specific concepts.
One of the foundations to a strong test is good class attendance, which is more than just showing up. Anyone can show up to a class, go through the movements, break a sweat and go home. This sort of zombie training is a student's constant enemy when the time between test cycles goes from months to years to many years. The struggle is really real here, and it is up to you, to battle your internal auto pilot and stay tuned in and engaged. I've written about auto pilot before with regard to forms practice, but auto pilot is something to fight against throughout all of your training. Ask questions, experiment, and apply what you've learned in the past (when appropriate), to other aspects of your training. Although perhaps a topic of a future post, the students who never question, never apply, and never really engage the art are often times the ones with poor testings and aren't long for quitting entirely. Don't be that guy.
Another generalization about testing is in regard to physical fitness. Our dan tests are not very physically demanding, but that being said, you'll get only a very short recovery time in between forms. This is no secret and no surprise, so train accordingly. The final three dan tests (3rd to 4th through 5th to 6th) have very demanding form sets. 3rd to 4th sees you perform the 2nd longest form, 4th to 5th sees you perform the hardest 3 forms in the entire Chang-hon form set and 5th to 6th features 4 forms instead of 3 with the longest form thrown in for insult to injury. Knowing that you get one chance to do all three forms that day, you'll want to put your best foot forward for each. Being prepared for the physical demands of this is paramount to having a test you can be proud of. An easy strategy to help you with this is to do each form in sets of 3, with limited space between reps.
One final piece of general advice I have for you is to attend testings that are not your own. The more familiar you are with the process, the less stressful being on the floor will be. If possible, volunteer to be someone's partner and take part in tests that you are not being graded on. When you have years between testings, actually getting on the testing floor when not testing can become a valuable mental tool for when your turn to test is up. It will give you something to think about as you prepare and will numb some of the anxiety of being "on the spot" that testing can invoke.
Forms Prep
The first of the three segments of the test is for most people the most daunting. At higher dan levels it really shouldn't be as you've been ultimately focusing on the same three to four forms for years but there's something about the hush of the crowd that derails many a usually good practitioner. To prepare for testing, I do three types of forms training leading into my test.
First, I practice movement retention and endurance. Here I am only interested in going through the movements hard and strong almost as if I were testing. I block out thoughts of "am I doing this right" because by now, I should know this form, my instructor should have seen me perform it many times and any and all corrections should be complete if not well on their way to being complete. This is important, because I feel like it is this training method that "locks" the form in the most. Care must be taken that you don't do too much of this training until you are sure your form is right where you and your instructor wants it.
The second version of forms prep I use is slow forms. Here, I purposely slow my movements down to make sure my mechanics are working right. Going slower allows me to focus on attribute training in my forms. I can work timing, power, intensity, stance definition, body control or any other attribute I might need to work on. Sometimes I'll simply work on one sequence of a form when I really want to focus in and improve that area. Unless I'm specifically working on power generation, I won't worry about doing my forms "hard" here. Often times I am searching for the "mental switches and levers" that must be pulled to execute at the highest level, so just focusing on breaking the auto pilot and engaging the controls is practiced here. I will usually perform these two methods in equal parts.
The final version of forms prep I use is dry-running. As we never know the order of the form set we'll be performing, I'll do my three (or four) forms, one time, at performance level in a random order. I'll run through the forms one right after another just like I will on testing day. While doing this, I'll visualize myself at the test. I've been to many tests, so I can mentally paint a very accurate picture of what the room will look and sound like. I won't do this exercise more than two times a session, just because at the test, I only get one shot. I want this training to feel as close to the testing experience as possible. If I have a bad showing, I smile, and be happy that today wasn't my test. If I have a good showing, I try to replicate that the next time I do this exercise. I like this practice at the start and finish of a hard forms practice.
As far as a schedule goes, this is going to vary with your comfort level with forms in general. We all have a level of comfort when it comes to ample practice time. Some like to start training months in advance, for others, weeks are fine. Speaking anecdotally, the fastest I ever got ready for a dan test was 3 days. For the record, I was at the TKD school 6 days a week and would often train 2-3 hours per day, so I was very much so ready to go whenever. Conversely I trained for months to prepare for my 4th dan test because I knew I'd be testing in front of our grand master that day. I was at two different places in life for those two tests, and on both tests, I felt very very strong. For 4th I was no longer in a place in life where I could devote uncountable hours to training. To balance this, I started several months earlier. These different ways to look at forms though will help organize the chaos that can sometimes fill your mind when it comes to test prep.
Prearranged
The next section of testing is our prearranged section. I think if people had to pick their favorite part of their tests, most people would pick this section. There are often times at least 10-12 people up at once, and the feeling that everyone is watching you is usually a bit less for this part. The reality is, this is correct. While it is easy to track and watch 5-10 people all doing the same form, it's much harder to watch 5-6 groups of two do prearranged, so it is true that there are less eyes on you during this section, and if performance anxiety is your enemy, this is your time to shine.
Personally, I find this section to be the hardest to prepare for, for a couple of reasons. First, to practice this effectively, you'll need a partner. Second, most of the time you won't know every aspect of prearranged that is going to be asked of you. While some of the mainstays are a given, you'll never know when a Master might call out for something off the cuff. Being mentally prepared has served me well, and I'd invite you to again mentally prepare to the fullest for your prearranged section. For my 4th dan test, on the day of testing the candidates going for 4th were told we'd be doing club defense. I had no idea this was coming, was absolutely dreadful at weapons defense at the time and felt panic creeping up my spine. I did what I would hope any good black belt would do, I accepted it, and then I improvised, adapted and overcame the situation. My club defense was probably the weakest portion of that test, but I didn't let that affect any other portion of my test, so it was a victory for me nonetheless.
Like all testing, you cannot let the unexpected, and or a mistake foil your efforts. I've seen it so many times; someone makes a mistake in an early portion of their test and that mistake takes root in their psyche like a weed and ruins the rest of their test. The candidate loses confidence, makes more mistakes, and a cycle forms. Mentally building a wall around those mistakes (seriously, I imagine the mistake kind of like a spore, that I put a brick wall around) will help you.
The best advice for actual prearranged is to practice it all, whenever you can - and the stuff that is harder to practice (things like 3 on 1 sparring) make sure you understand the concept and visualize yourself succeeding in doing what you want to do in the match. If you memorize your prearranged responses, be ready--mix them up so that you can fire them off with instinct level speed and effort. If you are an improvisor, relax, and do what you do. I find this section to be pretty cut and dry, the people that look good are often times the people who asked a classmate to partner up before or after classes and worked extra time on their prearranged. In this case, it really is that simple.
Breaking
The final portion of our tests is the breaking portion. Although this section is now undergoing a radical change in our org, all dan candidates are still required to break somewhere. Although only 4th and above are now breaking at the public test, all ranks below that still have to pass a breaking portion. As I have a love hate relationship with breaking for testing (see my blog post and article on breaking featured in Totally Tae Kwon Do magazine), my views on breaking are very pragmatic. Breaking is one of the least ambiguous sections of testing. There's always a breaking requirement, a set number of stations that needs to be broken, and the actual breaking of the boards. Rarely do you get a list of variables that are so concrete and easily measurable. Unlike what makes a good form execution a good form execution - no one can argue with a non broken board.
If your requirement is for example, a two station break, with one station consisting of a spinning back kick, why would you go out and try to do a six station break? You're only graded on your requirements, and while it is natural and desirable to spice things up it is best to do so within the confines of the parameters of the requirement. I look at it like this, if I am told to do a 3 station break, I'm doing a 3 station break. My rationale is that if I break the first three stations, and then miss the 4th, I get a failing grade for not breaking all stations - even though I accomplished the requirement. There is no extra credit, you live by the break you choose and die by the break you choose, so choose wisely. Don't be afraid to stretch inside the confines of the break, but at the same time, make sure you don't over stretch into something that is a gamble. You only get one test (unless you fail I guess) so you need to be happy with your showing. Speaking personally, I remember every board that didn't break - and have to watch videos of the ones that did to remember them.
Your dan test is not the place to try something new, or experimental--remember that the purpose is to show that the techniques you pick have the power to do bodily harm if you need them to. The purpose of your break at testing is not to wow the crowd, or impress the board. Though it never hurts to impress the board, I'm always impressed by a cleanly delivered break and the flow from station to station. I don't need to see someone jump over a table blindfolded at a test. At the end of the day, it is the how of the break, not the what, that wins the day. Nothing bothers me more, than to see someone trying to do something overly complicated, or overly daring and missing stations. I want to see if your technique execution could cause pain, I have very little care about your ability to jump over a motorcycle.
Specifically, once your simple but effective and technique level appropriate break is decided, practice it. Air shields are a good start to see if you can get real power on each technique. After that, switch to smaller targets. The pieces of wood we use are cut almost like a sheet of paper, so copier paper makes for a great stand in for real wood. Speaking of real wood, if you have the means, a few shots at the actual break is a great idea. I like to run through my break with real wood a week or two before I test. If it breaks easy, I know I have nothing to worry about.
Another skill in breaking is picking good holders, positioning them properly and making sure they are holding to support the break. Look for bent elbows, bad stances and don't be afraid to tell your holders to look away if you fear they are going to flinch. This is your test, you're going to be the one who fails this portion - regardless of a bad hold. This is unfortunate, as a bad hold can make even the best technique fail to break.
This is largely how I approach testing preparation. As our dan tests are in my opinion much more of a mental challenge than a physical one, you'll see the heavy emphasis on mental preparation and visualization. My views towards breaking may not be the official views of the organization, but approaching breaking the way I have has never garnered me criticism. Whenever I have broken cleanly I have always been complimented for my breaks. It should be noted I'm not saying everyone should come out and break with straight punch, front kick and side kick, but again, blindfolded table jumps with motorcycles are best left for the demo and tournament circuits.
If there is a final thought that I have on testing it is this. Your instructor wouldn't put you out on the floor if he or she didn't believe you were capable of passing the test. Have faith in that! You are given a valuable piece of motivation fuel just by being invited, don't squander that with self doubt and pointless thoughts about "but am I really ready". You are ultimately doing the mental equivalent of openly questioning your instructor, something I doubt you'd do to his face. Testing is ultimately the beast you make it to be. In the Hagakure there is a saying: "Matters of great concern should be treated lightly...Matters of small concern should be treated seriously." taking this slightly out of context and applying it here is apt. I look at it like this: worry about the small things you do in testing, because the big things, are probably not big deals at all...in fact, the big problems you think you have probably don't exist at all.
Friday, April 1, 2016
April's Fool - Memories of My First Trip to CTF Summer Camp
Instead of a mock post like last year - I'm going to tell you all a story of my first trip to CTF summer camp. It was a a time...fun and funny. It may not translate to the written word, and I've never tried my hand at comedy. I'm feeling particularly nostalgic because of an article I just wrote for Totally Tae Kwon Do Magazine is coming out tomorrow, so in the spirit of April Fool's day - please humor me.
(as an aside, I highly recommend listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan's "little wing" while reading this - I listened to it on loop while I wrote it, in a marathon session from 11:30 to 1am - I don't know...call it flavoring).
It had to be 99, but it may have been 2000. You have to understand that the years start to blend together, I know I was a black belt, and I had been one for a bit so it definitely wasn't 98. I wanted to go to camp, but things at home were not as stable as they had once been. I would have been 19, out of high school, working minimum wage jobs to support my hockey and TKD addictions. I had the feeling back then that I was wearing out my welcome at home, but things were chaotic there for other reasons not important to this story. Regardless, money was tight, and asking mom for more wasn't my favorite thing to do.
Jim Farrington, the first instructor I ever had, and someone I looked up to immensely at the time was constantly asking me if I was going to camp after class. He used to say that it was martial arts life changing. After sadly declining the year before because my finances couldn't support it, Jim offered to pay my way. Feeling it was bad form to turn him down, I graciously accepted, thanked him probably enough to make him nauseous and basically stopped sleeping at night out of sheer excitement until the day finally came to make the 4 hour drive out to Lock Haven to go to camp.
I'll never forget that night, it was a typical Pennsylvania summer night; hot and humid. I opened the hatch of my Ford EXP (fellow readers, I had THE absolute worst cars as a late teen / early 20 year old). I put my TKD bag, my clothes bag, and EVERY FREAKING MARTIAL ARTS WEAPON I OWNED, into my car. If I recall correctly, it was 2 bokkens, 1 katana, 3 sets of nunchucks, and at least two bos a 3 sectional staff (WTF, why did I have a 3 sectional staff?) and a few fake knives. I had never been to camp; I wanted to be prepared (this will be funny later). Realize that all I heard about camp is that it was awesome - specifics were not required, if my idols said camp was awesome, I didn't need specifics.
I set out for my longest solo drive in my life at that time. 4 hours on the PA turnpike and I80. I left in the early evening, didn't hit any traffic and fell in love with the long drive. The sky was beautiful, the music was heavy, loud and the night air cool coming in my car's windows. I was young, on the open road and about to set out for adventure.
I arrived in Lock Haven, parked my car, and grabbed just my bags. I never took a single weapon out of my car, but at least I was ready for the spontaneous weapons class or to you know, supply a small rebellion with arms if necessary.
I eventually got my room assignment - I think I was solo that year because my roommate bailed last minute. It was at this time that I learned my first important lesson about dorm life. They don't give you bedding. So I did what any other tough as nails black belt would do - I rolled out my uniform and slept on it. I was too embarrassed to ask anyone if they had extra sheets because in my boyish glee to just be attending, I forgot to ask if there was anything I needed to bring (so much for being prepared, I had enough weapons to fight a small army, but no sheets or pillow to sleep on).
It was upwards of 340 degrees in my dorm room. We were on top of some god unholy hill on like the 4th floor of a building with no air conditioning. I was baking for the first part of my night, and spent the first 3-4 hours staring at the ceiling and wondering how the hell I was going to get up in 3 more hours for the first workout. At some point I fell asleep, and the temperature dropped, because the next thing I knew I was in my uniform, and I had taken all the regular clothes out of my bag and had them stacked on me like a make shift blanket.
This may sound like pure hell to some of you--sleeping on a ratty college dorm mattress bare, with no blankets, no pillow--but man, it was CTF summer camp! No matter what, it was going to be awesome!
The first workout was at like 6:30 am, it was "optional" in the sense that you didn't have to wake up and go to it, but Master Lenny Young was going to bang on everyone's door at 5:45 and if you didn't come, he was going to make fun of you in front of a group of people, so it was optional only if you wanted that kind of attention. Nothing would stop me from getting out there though.
It was a sight. 80 of us, in a dewy field on what would turn out to be a beautiful Saturday in late July. The sun was just coming over the mountains when the first technique was called out - and the sound of an 80 strong kiap echoed across the field we were in. Chills my kind readers, absolute chills. The workout was hard, but satisfying - I was in my glory.
After morning workout we had breakfast. Always a fast eater, I retreated back to my dorm to take a shower. After the shower, I came back to my room to find Jim's door open, across the hall and "do you feel like we do" from Peter Frampton blasting out of his portable radio. Unlike me, Jim came prepared it seemed.
I got dressed, opened my door and just sat on my bed taking it all in. I didn't go to college out of high school, and when I eventually did go, I didn't live on campus in a dorm, so this was my one and only experience with this sort of lifestyle. Sitting on my bed, suddenly Farrington bursts into my room....in a full redman suit. He would proceed to make stereotypical martial arts sounds and do mock techniques. It was so ridiculous, from someone who was always, always so serious...I don't think I ever laughed as hard as I did at that moment in a TKD setting anyway. I was a bit hardcore and took it all way too seriously back then, so you have to understand how rare that was to just cut loose. We were both happy to be there.
The rest of that day I don't really remember. I know I was whooped, and I was invited to a bar after by the older black belts, even though I don't believe I was old enough to drink yet. (Again, I forget the year, and subsequent camp trips featured a TON of drinking - almost embarrassingly large amounts of drinking). All I remember is doing impressions of my favorite black belts. One black belt in particular who wasn't at camp had the most insane stances, and boy did I do a mean impression of him in the bar that night--everyone was laughing. I think it was the first time I felt like TKD was more than just my thing. For the first time, people saw me not as some hardcore TKD fanatic, and I thought, maybe that would be ok.
Someone gave me a spare sheet that night, so sleeping was a lot better the second night. Beer and 8 straight hours of TKD helped a bit too.
All I remember of the Sunday session was getting my ass absolutely beat by Ty Smith in extended outdoor sparring, feeling so sad to be leaving this truly amazing experience and finally understanding Farrington's reason for wanting me to come to camp at least once. I would go on to go to the next 6 camps in a row, but that was the last camp Jim ever went to. His time in TKD was coming to a close.
But every time, and I do mean, every time I hear "Do you feel like we do" - I think of Jim in his redman suit.
(as an aside, I highly recommend listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan's "little wing" while reading this - I listened to it on loop while I wrote it, in a marathon session from 11:30 to 1am - I don't know...call it flavoring).
It had to be 99, but it may have been 2000. You have to understand that the years start to blend together, I know I was a black belt, and I had been one for a bit so it definitely wasn't 98. I wanted to go to camp, but things at home were not as stable as they had once been. I would have been 19, out of high school, working minimum wage jobs to support my hockey and TKD addictions. I had the feeling back then that I was wearing out my welcome at home, but things were chaotic there for other reasons not important to this story. Regardless, money was tight, and asking mom for more wasn't my favorite thing to do.
Jim Farrington, the first instructor I ever had, and someone I looked up to immensely at the time was constantly asking me if I was going to camp after class. He used to say that it was martial arts life changing. After sadly declining the year before because my finances couldn't support it, Jim offered to pay my way. Feeling it was bad form to turn him down, I graciously accepted, thanked him probably enough to make him nauseous and basically stopped sleeping at night out of sheer excitement until the day finally came to make the 4 hour drive out to Lock Haven to go to camp.
I'll never forget that night, it was a typical Pennsylvania summer night; hot and humid. I opened the hatch of my Ford EXP (fellow readers, I had THE absolute worst cars as a late teen / early 20 year old). I put my TKD bag, my clothes bag, and EVERY FREAKING MARTIAL ARTS WEAPON I OWNED, into my car. If I recall correctly, it was 2 bokkens, 1 katana, 3 sets of nunchucks, and at least two bos a 3 sectional staff (WTF, why did I have a 3 sectional staff?) and a few fake knives. I had never been to camp; I wanted to be prepared (this will be funny later). Realize that all I heard about camp is that it was awesome - specifics were not required, if my idols said camp was awesome, I didn't need specifics.
I set out for my longest solo drive in my life at that time. 4 hours on the PA turnpike and I80. I left in the early evening, didn't hit any traffic and fell in love with the long drive. The sky was beautiful, the music was heavy, loud and the night air cool coming in my car's windows. I was young, on the open road and about to set out for adventure.
I arrived in Lock Haven, parked my car, and grabbed just my bags. I never took a single weapon out of my car, but at least I was ready for the spontaneous weapons class or to you know, supply a small rebellion with arms if necessary.
I eventually got my room assignment - I think I was solo that year because my roommate bailed last minute. It was at this time that I learned my first important lesson about dorm life. They don't give you bedding. So I did what any other tough as nails black belt would do - I rolled out my uniform and slept on it. I was too embarrassed to ask anyone if they had extra sheets because in my boyish glee to just be attending, I forgot to ask if there was anything I needed to bring (so much for being prepared, I had enough weapons to fight a small army, but no sheets or pillow to sleep on).
It was upwards of 340 degrees in my dorm room. We were on top of some god unholy hill on like the 4th floor of a building with no air conditioning. I was baking for the first part of my night, and spent the first 3-4 hours staring at the ceiling and wondering how the hell I was going to get up in 3 more hours for the first workout. At some point I fell asleep, and the temperature dropped, because the next thing I knew I was in my uniform, and I had taken all the regular clothes out of my bag and had them stacked on me like a make shift blanket.
This may sound like pure hell to some of you--sleeping on a ratty college dorm mattress bare, with no blankets, no pillow--but man, it was CTF summer camp! No matter what, it was going to be awesome!
The first workout was at like 6:30 am, it was "optional" in the sense that you didn't have to wake up and go to it, but Master Lenny Young was going to bang on everyone's door at 5:45 and if you didn't come, he was going to make fun of you in front of a group of people, so it was optional only if you wanted that kind of attention. Nothing would stop me from getting out there though.
It was a sight. 80 of us, in a dewy field on what would turn out to be a beautiful Saturday in late July. The sun was just coming over the mountains when the first technique was called out - and the sound of an 80 strong kiap echoed across the field we were in. Chills my kind readers, absolute chills. The workout was hard, but satisfying - I was in my glory.
After morning workout we had breakfast. Always a fast eater, I retreated back to my dorm to take a shower. After the shower, I came back to my room to find Jim's door open, across the hall and "do you feel like we do" from Peter Frampton blasting out of his portable radio. Unlike me, Jim came prepared it seemed.
I got dressed, opened my door and just sat on my bed taking it all in. I didn't go to college out of high school, and when I eventually did go, I didn't live on campus in a dorm, so this was my one and only experience with this sort of lifestyle. Sitting on my bed, suddenly Farrington bursts into my room....in a full redman suit. He would proceed to make stereotypical martial arts sounds and do mock techniques. It was so ridiculous, from someone who was always, always so serious...I don't think I ever laughed as hard as I did at that moment in a TKD setting anyway. I was a bit hardcore and took it all way too seriously back then, so you have to understand how rare that was to just cut loose. We were both happy to be there.
The rest of that day I don't really remember. I know I was whooped, and I was invited to a bar after by the older black belts, even though I don't believe I was old enough to drink yet. (Again, I forget the year, and subsequent camp trips featured a TON of drinking - almost embarrassingly large amounts of drinking). All I remember is doing impressions of my favorite black belts. One black belt in particular who wasn't at camp had the most insane stances, and boy did I do a mean impression of him in the bar that night--everyone was laughing. I think it was the first time I felt like TKD was more than just my thing. For the first time, people saw me not as some hardcore TKD fanatic, and I thought, maybe that would be ok.
Someone gave me a spare sheet that night, so sleeping was a lot better the second night. Beer and 8 straight hours of TKD helped a bit too.
All I remember of the Sunday session was getting my ass absolutely beat by Ty Smith in extended outdoor sparring, feeling so sad to be leaving this truly amazing experience and finally understanding Farrington's reason for wanting me to come to camp at least once. I would go on to go to the next 6 camps in a row, but that was the last camp Jim ever went to. His time in TKD was coming to a close.
But every time, and I do mean, every time I hear "Do you feel like we do" - I think of Jim in his redman suit.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
The Fallacy of Rank
I believe that much of what we think about rank in the martial arts is a lie and is causing more problems than it is solving. There is so much baggage attached to belt color, dan number, the titles of "black belt"," master" and "grand master", and progression through rank. It is a source of trepidation for some, and a source of frustration for others. I've been dealing with the stress of rank for a long time, both in my personal advancement and as an instructor. If there is something in the arts that creates more animosity in practitioners within an individual school or organization, I haven't found it. It fills the message boards and fuels more heated discussions than many other topics. Our thinking about rank is putting an undue burden on our training and looking at it differently could allow us to see our fellow martial artists in a much different and better light.
Although some schools in certain styles will not promote you until you until you defeat your peers, I have no experience with this format and can't say that I have ever heard of a TKD school using this as a metric. What I'd like to discuss is the process of time served, a testing fee paid, a physical and mental test taken and passed and a new rank rewarded. There are some variations in this process but my experience is that this is how most TKD schools operate. I'm also assuming a level of correctness. It is entirely possible to do something correct, and not skilled.
The place that I believe where rank derails is the attachment of skill. Rank is hardly an accurate description of skill. There's evidence of this all around us but that simple idea, that a rank X is supposed to be better than a rank Y is a fallacy. I have so many stories I could tell, so many examples I could cite that I could write a whole book on the topic. I saw a green belt get challenged to spar as an equal with a black belt and watched the green belt get the best of the situation. I've seen yellow belts in competition absolutely slaughter red belts when there weren't enough of each in either division to have separate divisions. In my first ever tournament fight I took a seasoned tournament veteran and 3rd dan to sudden death - the gulf in our time as black belts could have been measured by decades. In forms that day, without warmup I beat 11 other black belts. I had been a black belt for all of 6 months at this point. Worst of all, I've watched more than one respected martial artist quit because they thought it wasn't fair that they would be the same rank as students they saw as inferior or less prepared. I could go on, I could go on for a very, very long time.
I don't honestly think that rank was ever an accurate description of skill. You only have to look at the training regiments in your own schools to see the evidence of this. Looking at my school now, we have high ranks of black belts that for the most part are all over the board in terms of skill. I'm sure if you take a long hard look at the people of your school you will see that no matter how stringent your testing requirements are, that two people of the same rank are more often than not very different with regards to their skills. Even thinking back in my school to a time when we had the most parity, the black belts that I admired that were all 3rd dans, each had strengths and weaknesses and in some regards were on very different levels of skill to each other.
I find that skill changes way too frequently to be measured by a one off evaluation. Skill is constantly in flux to a certain degree. Day to day, we all have good days and bad days and sure, we're not going to base the sum of our work in the arts on any given one day. That being said, over the course of years many things happen that affect our skill. We get older, we get injuries, the amount of time we have to dedicate to training or our opportunities to train with the right people all can drastically change our skill level - yet our rank always stays the same or goes up.
We believe tired cliches that speak of there being no such thing as talent - which I find to be an absolute joke. If you don't believe that some people just have an unfair shake (both ways, talented or not so much) I don't believe you have been doing this long enough or have been exposed to enough people. I've worked with both the extremely talented and not so, and while I do believe that good old fashioned hard work can take you very, very far - it has nothing on raw talent, which can get you so much farther, so much faster. One way or another though, sometimes the extremely talented and the not so much talented find themselves looking at their belt and then looking at each other - and the birth of a major problem occurs.
I believe we want rank to equal skill, but even in the face of all this evidence against rank equaling skill, we pass judgement of our peers and seniors and subordinates based on rank. We scapegoat and pigeon hole rank to suit our judgmental arguments of who should be a given "rank" and who doesn't deserve to be a different "rank". Again, most systems don't have it in their guidelines that to reach 2nd grade you "have to be able to kick like this guy over here". It would create quite a paradox because eventually someone could come along that kicks better than the standard well before they should be. What then do you do with the old standard -- demote him?
So if rank can't work this way, and it is so clearly flawed, why do we want it to work so badly?
I'm not sure of the answer, and I doubt there is just one. Maybe it has simply to do with wanting to put things in some kind of order. There's so much discipline in the arts, it stands to reason that the rank system should also be orderly and logical. It certainly doesn't make sense that a 3rd dan might not be as skilled as a 1st dan, but it happens. It could also be that westerners somehow soiled the rank system and changed it; I'm not a historical rank expert though so it is hard for me to back this up. I don't think it is a stretch though, because I believe we've clearly come to believe the connotations of black belt that the non martial arts world created. For example businesses use the term "black belt" to mean subject matter expert, when we all know that a black belt is supposed to just be a master of the basics. A master of basics is a far, far cry from a subject matter expert - but black belt is used interchangeably. Is it so hard to accept that the person who graduates 1st in their class gets the same piece of paper as the person who graduates last in their class? Just as that last in class graduate may struggle to find a job, the last in class black belt may struggle to defend themselves, or do well in competition. There's just only so much a martial arts instructor can do.
It's funny, but the schools that we lament for allowing you to prove time in and pay for any given rank really have it figured out in a way. I'm not condoning such an action, but really, we make allowances for certain things all the time. We grant the injured but persevering a break on jumps and spins, we grant the older and less flexible a reprieve from kicking high or moving fast. When you strip it down to the least common denominator in these cases - what is left as a requirement but time in? I know I am generalizing, and maybe your school makes no allowances but many do. The proof is in the sheer amount of bad martial arts you see on youtube, usually performed by someone with a black belt around their waste and multiple stripes on their belt.
This has led me to look at rank from a very pragmatic point of view. First I see it as a visual representation of your general experience in the art - essentially a placeholder that says "at this school, you are here" It speaks to many things, dedication, loyalty, perseverance and experience being the most prevalent. It's an generalization and not an exact indicator of skill. Second, it is a tool for your instructor to use to mark your personal progress; this being an extension of my first point with the added factor being your instructor gets an "at a glance" generalization for the logistics in running a class. It gives him or her an idea of what you know and what you need to know.
I don't think it is a bad thing to separate rank from skill. The tenants that I follow start with courtesy and integrity and along with some self control, give me the ability to respect my superiors, subordinates and peers appropriately because of their rank - NOT because of their skill. Maybe because I work in a professional office environment, where this sort of behavior is a requirement to earn a living that this comes easy for me. It's a lot easier in my eyes to give blanket respect, than it is to carry around the mental baggage of "why did that guy make it to that level". After all, in the end we're all in the arts as a practitioner for ourselves. No one loses a rank based on some random classmate's poor performance. Thankfully the modern arts haven't adopted that type of corporate occurrence.
Although some schools in certain styles will not promote you until you until you defeat your peers, I have no experience with this format and can't say that I have ever heard of a TKD school using this as a metric. What I'd like to discuss is the process of time served, a testing fee paid, a physical and mental test taken and passed and a new rank rewarded. There are some variations in this process but my experience is that this is how most TKD schools operate. I'm also assuming a level of correctness. It is entirely possible to do something correct, and not skilled.
The place that I believe where rank derails is the attachment of skill. Rank is hardly an accurate description of skill. There's evidence of this all around us but that simple idea, that a rank X is supposed to be better than a rank Y is a fallacy. I have so many stories I could tell, so many examples I could cite that I could write a whole book on the topic. I saw a green belt get challenged to spar as an equal with a black belt and watched the green belt get the best of the situation. I've seen yellow belts in competition absolutely slaughter red belts when there weren't enough of each in either division to have separate divisions. In my first ever tournament fight I took a seasoned tournament veteran and 3rd dan to sudden death - the gulf in our time as black belts could have been measured by decades. In forms that day, without warmup I beat 11 other black belts. I had been a black belt for all of 6 months at this point. Worst of all, I've watched more than one respected martial artist quit because they thought it wasn't fair that they would be the same rank as students they saw as inferior or less prepared. I could go on, I could go on for a very, very long time.
I don't honestly think that rank was ever an accurate description of skill. You only have to look at the training regiments in your own schools to see the evidence of this. Looking at my school now, we have high ranks of black belts that for the most part are all over the board in terms of skill. I'm sure if you take a long hard look at the people of your school you will see that no matter how stringent your testing requirements are, that two people of the same rank are more often than not very different with regards to their skills. Even thinking back in my school to a time when we had the most parity, the black belts that I admired that were all 3rd dans, each had strengths and weaknesses and in some regards were on very different levels of skill to each other.
I find that skill changes way too frequently to be measured by a one off evaluation. Skill is constantly in flux to a certain degree. Day to day, we all have good days and bad days and sure, we're not going to base the sum of our work in the arts on any given one day. That being said, over the course of years many things happen that affect our skill. We get older, we get injuries, the amount of time we have to dedicate to training or our opportunities to train with the right people all can drastically change our skill level - yet our rank always stays the same or goes up.
We believe tired cliches that speak of there being no such thing as talent - which I find to be an absolute joke. If you don't believe that some people just have an unfair shake (both ways, talented or not so much) I don't believe you have been doing this long enough or have been exposed to enough people. I've worked with both the extremely talented and not so, and while I do believe that good old fashioned hard work can take you very, very far - it has nothing on raw talent, which can get you so much farther, so much faster. One way or another though, sometimes the extremely talented and the not so much talented find themselves looking at their belt and then looking at each other - and the birth of a major problem occurs.
I believe we want rank to equal skill, but even in the face of all this evidence against rank equaling skill, we pass judgement of our peers and seniors and subordinates based on rank. We scapegoat and pigeon hole rank to suit our judgmental arguments of who should be a given "rank" and who doesn't deserve to be a different "rank". Again, most systems don't have it in their guidelines that to reach 2nd grade you "have to be able to kick like this guy over here". It would create quite a paradox because eventually someone could come along that kicks better than the standard well before they should be. What then do you do with the old standard -- demote him?
So if rank can't work this way, and it is so clearly flawed, why do we want it to work so badly?
I'm not sure of the answer, and I doubt there is just one. Maybe it has simply to do with wanting to put things in some kind of order. There's so much discipline in the arts, it stands to reason that the rank system should also be orderly and logical. It certainly doesn't make sense that a 3rd dan might not be as skilled as a 1st dan, but it happens. It could also be that westerners somehow soiled the rank system and changed it; I'm not a historical rank expert though so it is hard for me to back this up. I don't think it is a stretch though, because I believe we've clearly come to believe the connotations of black belt that the non martial arts world created. For example businesses use the term "black belt" to mean subject matter expert, when we all know that a black belt is supposed to just be a master of the basics. A master of basics is a far, far cry from a subject matter expert - but black belt is used interchangeably. Is it so hard to accept that the person who graduates 1st in their class gets the same piece of paper as the person who graduates last in their class? Just as that last in class graduate may struggle to find a job, the last in class black belt may struggle to defend themselves, or do well in competition. There's just only so much a martial arts instructor can do.
It's funny, but the schools that we lament for allowing you to prove time in and pay for any given rank really have it figured out in a way. I'm not condoning such an action, but really, we make allowances for certain things all the time. We grant the injured but persevering a break on jumps and spins, we grant the older and less flexible a reprieve from kicking high or moving fast. When you strip it down to the least common denominator in these cases - what is left as a requirement but time in? I know I am generalizing, and maybe your school makes no allowances but many do. The proof is in the sheer amount of bad martial arts you see on youtube, usually performed by someone with a black belt around their waste and multiple stripes on their belt.
This has led me to look at rank from a very pragmatic point of view. First I see it as a visual representation of your general experience in the art - essentially a placeholder that says "at this school, you are here" It speaks to many things, dedication, loyalty, perseverance and experience being the most prevalent. It's an generalization and not an exact indicator of skill. Second, it is a tool for your instructor to use to mark your personal progress; this being an extension of my first point with the added factor being your instructor gets an "at a glance" generalization for the logistics in running a class. It gives him or her an idea of what you know and what you need to know.
I don't think it is a bad thing to separate rank from skill. The tenants that I follow start with courtesy and integrity and along with some self control, give me the ability to respect my superiors, subordinates and peers appropriately because of their rank - NOT because of their skill. Maybe because I work in a professional office environment, where this sort of behavior is a requirement to earn a living that this comes easy for me. It's a lot easier in my eyes to give blanket respect, than it is to carry around the mental baggage of "why did that guy make it to that level". After all, in the end we're all in the arts as a practitioner for ourselves. No one loses a rank based on some random classmate's poor performance. Thankfully the modern arts haven't adopted that type of corporate occurrence.
Friday, January 15, 2016
The Other Sine Wave
Sine wave is a polarizing topic in Taekwon-do. One side believes in it zealously, while the other shuns the practice set forth by General Choi in the 80s. My school doesn't execute forms with sine wave, as our Malaysian heritage somehow skipped the sea change that divided TKD practitioners forever. Regardless of our C-step execution, we should all be practicing a sine wave when we execute our forms, not necessarily the down up down stance kind of sine wave, (although many do, and I don't judge). I'm referring to the relaxed, tensed, relaxed state as we go from transition to transition -- movement to movement.
I've been hung up on this since learning Tong-Il a few weeks ago and now more than ever I feel a pull towards mastering this concept which is easy to conceptualize, but very difficult to execute, let alone master. To date I have focused my Tuesday night class on this topic in a variety of ways for more than a few weeks in a row now. It's eating at me for a few reasons. For one thing, the tension / relaxation (from here on referred to as the TR sine) in forms, when executed properly looks amazing. Turn on any of those WKF world championship videos that everyone raves about on the forums and you'll see people who have mastered the art of the TR sine. Their forms look so fast, so fluid and so clean because they are experts at, among other things, starting their movement from a completely relaxed state, going to complete tension at the point of the strike or block and returning, nearly instantly to that relaxed state. I'd argue that it is the contrast of the tension and calm that is so compelling about these executions of form. This is especially evident whenever a forms practitioner executes a move in a form that is fast, transitions to something that is done slow and smooth and then immediately executes a fast move right after. It grabs the eye, and is often a thing of beauty.
It's not just for looks though. Learning to harness the TR sine, and executing it is a very effective way to increase hand and foot speed through forms practice. When performed properly, your entire form becomes one giant plyometric exorcise! All the people who believe that forms do not help your fighting are clearly blind to the fact that forms are a great place to develop actual speed. Forms have most definitely helped increase my explosiveness in sparring and I attribute that to constantly focusing on the TR sine. Although I don't get the opportunity to spar as much as I like, people still consider me "fast". Many factors go into being a "fast" fighter but my actual speed has been maintained thanks to TR sine. Because of this I'll never be one of those people that sees forms as pointless. Forms are the antithesis of pointless, if you are practicing them correctly that is.
I find that true relaxation is the hardest part for most people to accomplish in pursuit of a true TR sine. Tensing the muscles and producing power is easy for most people, but when I look at them doing a series moves and say "relax" to them, I frequently get blank stares and a continuation of a plateau of tension and power. They just never come down after adding power to their first strike. It is hard though, when we occupy our mind with the fear of looking weak, the fear of making a mistake, the fear of criticism from the higher ranking students, the fear created by "oh no the teacher is watching me" it can be very hard to relax. I find the average student is dealing with one or two of these fears at any given time during every classroom session. They are natural states of mind that even seasoned veterans like me succumb to from time to time -- it is no wonder relaxing can be challenging to achieve.
Thus the quest for absolute relaxation starts with the state of mind. I used to tell my students to practice their forms as if they are the only thing that exists in the entire universe, but ultimately the cliche, "dance like no one is watching" is probably more accessible and easier to visualize. As a person who never danced that well, I was incapable of this and had to actually start this in my solo training. I actually needed proof that no one was watching, it seemed, to execute forms like no one was watching. In time I was able to quell all of those fears and actually do my forms relaxed in or before regular class.
Relaxation is paramount in self defense situations as well, as being too tense can take its toll on a fighter in a myriad of different ways. By being in relaxed state during self defense, we can limit or prevent tunnel vision and actually be aware of what is going on around us in a potentially very stressful situation. We also limit over extension when relaxed -- and keep our openings after attack at a minimum. By being relaxed we try to force technique less, which also allows us to conserve energy. Relaxation in fighting comes more from experience practicing self defense and sparring, but making it an important part of your forms will only help you in these areas as well.
I attribute much of my forms skills to understanding the TR sine and always making it a focus of my practice now. As I used to just dial up the forms to maximum power and intensity, I find that now I am actually more explosive, my forms look even better, and my endurance is better because I'm actually not working as hard. Concentrate on your relaxation and your forms as well as many other attributes should improve!
I've been hung up on this since learning Tong-Il a few weeks ago and now more than ever I feel a pull towards mastering this concept which is easy to conceptualize, but very difficult to execute, let alone master. To date I have focused my Tuesday night class on this topic in a variety of ways for more than a few weeks in a row now. It's eating at me for a few reasons. For one thing, the tension / relaxation (from here on referred to as the TR sine) in forms, when executed properly looks amazing. Turn on any of those WKF world championship videos that everyone raves about on the forums and you'll see people who have mastered the art of the TR sine. Their forms look so fast, so fluid and so clean because they are experts at, among other things, starting their movement from a completely relaxed state, going to complete tension at the point of the strike or block and returning, nearly instantly to that relaxed state. I'd argue that it is the contrast of the tension and calm that is so compelling about these executions of form. This is especially evident whenever a forms practitioner executes a move in a form that is fast, transitions to something that is done slow and smooth and then immediately executes a fast move right after. It grabs the eye, and is often a thing of beauty.
It's not just for looks though. Learning to harness the TR sine, and executing it is a very effective way to increase hand and foot speed through forms practice. When performed properly, your entire form becomes one giant plyometric exorcise! All the people who believe that forms do not help your fighting are clearly blind to the fact that forms are a great place to develop actual speed. Forms have most definitely helped increase my explosiveness in sparring and I attribute that to constantly focusing on the TR sine. Although I don't get the opportunity to spar as much as I like, people still consider me "fast". Many factors go into being a "fast" fighter but my actual speed has been maintained thanks to TR sine. Because of this I'll never be one of those people that sees forms as pointless. Forms are the antithesis of pointless, if you are practicing them correctly that is.
I find that true relaxation is the hardest part for most people to accomplish in pursuit of a true TR sine. Tensing the muscles and producing power is easy for most people, but when I look at them doing a series moves and say "relax" to them, I frequently get blank stares and a continuation of a plateau of tension and power. They just never come down after adding power to their first strike. It is hard though, when we occupy our mind with the fear of looking weak, the fear of making a mistake, the fear of criticism from the higher ranking students, the fear created by "oh no the teacher is watching me" it can be very hard to relax. I find the average student is dealing with one or two of these fears at any given time during every classroom session. They are natural states of mind that even seasoned veterans like me succumb to from time to time -- it is no wonder relaxing can be challenging to achieve.
Thus the quest for absolute relaxation starts with the state of mind. I used to tell my students to practice their forms as if they are the only thing that exists in the entire universe, but ultimately the cliche, "dance like no one is watching" is probably more accessible and easier to visualize. As a person who never danced that well, I was incapable of this and had to actually start this in my solo training. I actually needed proof that no one was watching, it seemed, to execute forms like no one was watching. In time I was able to quell all of those fears and actually do my forms relaxed in or before regular class.
Relaxation is paramount in self defense situations as well, as being too tense can take its toll on a fighter in a myriad of different ways. By being in relaxed state during self defense, we can limit or prevent tunnel vision and actually be aware of what is going on around us in a potentially very stressful situation. We also limit over extension when relaxed -- and keep our openings after attack at a minimum. By being relaxed we try to force technique less, which also allows us to conserve energy. Relaxation in fighting comes more from experience practicing self defense and sparring, but making it an important part of your forms will only help you in these areas as well.
I attribute much of my forms skills to understanding the TR sine and always making it a focus of my practice now. As I used to just dial up the forms to maximum power and intensity, I find that now I am actually more explosive, my forms look even better, and my endurance is better because I'm actually not working as hard. Concentrate on your relaxation and your forms as well as many other attributes should improve!
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