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Article originally published in Tae Kwon Do Times, July 2008



By Norman McLinden

     Three and a half decades have passed since I first stepped onto the dojang floor. The obvious things about Tae Kwon Do haven't changed in those 35 years: The students are still soaked in sweat as they drill up and down the floor; the kicks remain forever challenging; some students still kick with great ease while others are challenged every step of the way; the forms are eternally poetry in motion; there is nothing more motivating than a full class of hard training students; and yes, superficially, the dojang looks the same as it did all those years ago.
     The big difference is within me. The years have changed my personal viewpoint on training, self-confidence and martial arts. These perspectives have impacted me in ways I never thought possible in my youth.
     A young man merely perceives things. An older man knows things. Tae Kwon Do remains the same, but the seasons of a man change.

Spring 1977

“Good and bad, I define these terms
   quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
   I'm younger than that now.”

-- Bob Dylan, My Back Pages


     It was a cool April night in 1977. I pulled my car off to the side of the road. I was tired and beat with blood dripping from my nose. I pounded my fist on the steering wheel as I felt tears of rage pour out of my eyes. My right eye was swollen and it would be black and half shut by tomorrow.
     I had just caught some severe punishment in a free-for-all sparring match. I'd been training in Tae Kwon Do for the better part of two years. In spite of my dedication, I felt defeated. I felt I wasn't getting any better at this martial art. It was not that another opponent had defeated me in sparring. I was defeating myself.
     I doubted my skills. Wasn't my tee shirt soaked in blood? My ribs were cracked from the sidekick I received.
     Why wasn't I faster, stronger, or a better fighter? Most of all, I was haunted by the thought, "Why couldn't I be better at something I loved so much?"
     I gathered myself and got back on the road. This wouldn't be the last time I'd drive home sore and full of self-doubt. In spite of these discouragements, I was determined to continue. As a matter of fact, instead of stopping my training, I accelerated it.
     I'd train every day of the week if I could. Most nights I was the first student in class and the last one to leave. My instructor and I would put out the lights and lock the door. I would anxiously count the hours until the next class.
     Little by little, I became very adept at Tae Kwon Do. I found my own special strengths in this challenging martial art. The unfortunate thing was, I wasn't measuring my own progress. I was comparing myself to the other students at the school.
     My fellow students had similar mindsets. Many young men have a fierce competitive nature. The "Dodge City" attitude of the fastest gun was always prevalent.
     My training partners and I evaluated each other as we were coming through the tanks. "I'm a better fighter than that guy!" "My forms are better!" "My techniques are better!" Ironically, the more you thought that way, the more you doubted yourself.
     My instructors were fantastic technicians, but they offered little insight into training the mind and spirit. We were only being educated in one part of training, the technical aspect. We were missing out on the body, mind and spirit training. Fusing these three components is the true magic of the martial arts.

     To my mind, there was no magic in the martial arts. No Master Po ever showed up to enlighten me when I needed guidance. No Mr. Miyagi ever shared his hidden secrets with me. The only direction I had was my own determination. I loved Tae Kwon Do and my Spartan training regimen. I would not stop and I would not quit.
     For many years I only wanted to train with the "best" students. I felt inconvenienced when my instructor asked me to work with me beginning students. I felt I was wasting my time trying to straighten out people’s stances. I was outraged if kids misbehaved in the children's class.
     Oddly enough, as much as I disliked training new students, the more often I found myself doing it. Sure enough, my instructor assigned me to help teach the beginners' class.
     The day came when my group tested for their yellow belts. I was as nervous as they were. My group of beginners passed their test with flying colors. After the exam, I was startled when one of the new yellow belts came up and shook my hand. "Thank you for your help and patience. You know I would have quit if it weren’t for you."
     I quickly congratulated him and promised to keep working with him. As I walked away I felt something deep within me grow strong and proud. I wasn't just a Tae Kwon Do student, I was becoming a teacher.

     Meanwhile, I was still going through the rank system myself. The old frustrations were still there. Self-doubt surfaced with every rank promotion. It took a long time to realize that it wasn't the judges at the test who would decide my next rank. It was that guy I looked at in the mirror who would determine my next rank.
     I knew the monotony of the in-between ranks. I knew the elation of every promotion. With each test I was getting a bit closer to my personal dream.
     On a chilly March day I passed my black belt test. I thought that was the ultimate goal. And it was for a period of time. Eventually I realized my black belt was really a learner's permit. There was a very long road ahead for me. For many of us, being a black belt in Tae Kwon Do turns into a way of life.

Fall 2007

     Autumn leaves are blowing across the school parking lot. The dojang is a little more modern today. There is a computer on my desk and my cell phone has voicemail. The training hall still smells of sweat and hard work. However, the last time we had blood on the carpet it wasn't from a free-for-all sparring match, but rather someone had stubbed a toe on the floor. It is rare when one of my students leave the school limping or bleeding.
     My training regimen is nowhere near as severe as it once was. I no longer have to push the envelope. Indeed, most days I'm more concerned with keeping the envelope together.
     The confidence that eluded me as a young man has been replaced with self-assurance. I have a strong sense of satisfaction in my martial arts abilities. I want all my students to achieve this same personal fulfillment.
     When I see self-doubt surface in a student, I do my best to help him or her overcome it. I realize now that's my job, I'm a Tae Kwon Do instructor. A yellow belt taught me that lesson 30 years ago.
     Nope, Master Po and Mr. Miyagi still haven't shown up to give me all the answers. I realize now that personal experience teaches us life's most valuable lessons.

     Training in the martial arts is about becoming a better person and not judging others. Training with a partner is not about beating them. It is about you and your partner making each other stronger. This builds mutual confidence and if you believe in yourself, all else will follow.
     I can tell you the importance of never, ever quitting. I would not let anything deter me from my love of Tae Kwon Do. I wasn't the best fighter or the best technician. The only attribute I was blessed with was an unusual amount of determination. This determination has seen me through 35 years in the martial arts. Perseverance conquers any and all barriers. Today it is my pleasure and honor to be a Tae Kwon Do instructor.
     I know that shattering cement bricks at a demo, or being a tournament champion will not make you a great martial artist. The most important thing you can do with your fellow students is to help them believe in themselves and reach beyond their capabilities. Only then will you be a great martial artist.
     This morning I am doing my heavy bag workout. I pound the bag with 16-ounce gloves. These days I'm training more to preserve my strength rather then build it up.

     I’m soaked in sweat and out of breath, but I am determined to finish this workout. I throw an overhand right and hear the rafters rock my old school.
     I feel a deep power within me. This is a power I never possessed 35 years ago. It is magical! It is confidence, completeness and self-actualization. It is the magic I didn’t believe in as a young man.

     Of course, I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now…
 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Master Norman Mclinden is a seventh-dan black belt in Tae Kwon Do, Unified Tae Kown Do International. He holds a fifth-degree black belt in the Joe Lewis Fighting System and a fourth-dan in Combat Hapkido. McLinden is a Professor of Management Studies at the University of Phoenix, Boston Campus, and is the owner and Master Instructor of NorthEastern Tae Kwon Do Academy, located in Bellingham, Massachusetts. He can be reached at nmclinden@msn.com.