January 1 - The First Step is the Hardest

I remember I was in seventh grade, which means the year was 1977, and I was living in Reseda, CA. I thought I was strong, I thought I had skills, and this was my first Turkey Ball. For those who do not know what Turkey Ball is… well, it’s when a lot of boys from different schools gather in a park, or in this case, climbed the fence of Sequoia Junior High on Thanksgiving Day while their mothers are busy cooking the turkey. The game of choice: no-rules football. I was playing the line, both offense and defense. The ball was snapped, and I charged, hoping to sack the quarterback. Nope, I was clotheslined by a 9th grader on the other side. The kid barely moved; I never saw it coming. A couple of plays later, I was speared by the same kid's helmet right into the side of my knee. The knee quickly swelled up, and I could barely run, but pride kept me in the game. Forearm rip to my head, no helmets in Turkey Ball. My frustration overtook me, and I started a fight with my adversary. The fight was one and done. I threw a punch, he weaved, and his rear hook connected. All I could see was the sky as I lay on my back. 

The kid had no malice, no agenda except to win the game. He was very disciplined, very skilled. As I licked my wounds, I wondered why he was so much better than me. I played football. I did martial arts. What made him so much better? I started to realize how efficient he was. No excess movements, no hesitation, extremely strong and quick.  Is that how I performed? Trained? Did I do the football drills as the coach instructed, listen to the Sensei in Shotokan Karate? I was always good at showing up on time for practice, but did I put effort into the drills? The answer was woefully no. I treated practice as playtime; the 9th grader who clocked me treated practice as a training ground for battle. Focused, disciplined, unrelenting in mastering his craft.

I often think of that moment in my life as a turning point for me. I cannot say I changed overnight, but I worked to change my mentality about showing up and performing to the best of my current capabilities. Success is elusive, and you will never get there if you do not show up mentally prepared. That’s at the dojo, school, relationships, or work. So show up to class, be consistent, and follow the drills to the best of your ability. When you get exhausted, your real training begins. Get even more focused, push your muscles to the point of pain, and learn to stop only when the job is done. It is at the intersection of pain and endurance when discipline begins to form.

We are all at different points in our lives but we can all improve by just showing up, being focused, and allowing the process to work. 

‍