My wife and I were at a clients house wrapping up a family portrait session. I was chatting with my clients and he pointed towards my rounded stomach and said "I can help with that” it turned out that he ran a martial arts dojo.
Fast forward one year to July 11 2010;
It was hot, muggy and I did not feel like making another call or answering another email. I sat listlessly starring at my computer monitor. The window unit behind me was making a long, droning, pathetic sound. I found myself starring out of the small window at the leaves and squirrels; asking myself “what’s for lunch?”, and “do I need a snack now?” My focus was not on the task at hand.
An email arrived; it was an invitation to my high school reunion. It sounded like fun. To be back in Appomattox with my old friends – what would they think of me after all this time? My life at this point was running smoothly. I had recently gotten married, moved to Alexandria and was working from home. I was happy, but I knew that I was out of shape, not the skinny guy everyone called “Gilligan” back in the day. Within seconds the words “I can help with that” popped into my head. I picked up the phone and called my old client, Chris and by the end of the conversation, I had agreed to meet with one of his instructors at noon.
My brain raced back 30 years to when my big brother studied American Freestyle Karate. He spent his weekends using me as a punching bag, and I loved it. He had sparring gear, nunchucks, throwing stars, a uniform, and knew all these cool moves. He also thought that he could breakdance and moonwalk, but that story is for another day. Noon was fast approaching so I drove over to the dojo.
My first lesson seemed very intense, I did a lot of kicks, punches and I was introduced to the Burpee, I managed to do 15. I enrolled! I was taking Karate!
The first few weeks where the hardest, I got deep gashes on my toes, carpet burns, and bruises; everywhere. I was constantly sore and my brain felt like it could not hold any additional Kempos. I persisted coming to the dojo: sometimes eagerly, sometimes reluctantly, and sometimes half asleep. The dojo became my second home. It seemed like I was always preparing for a new belt test, a tournament, or trying to do just one more burpee!
Working from home became easier, I became more focused less distracted; I just wanted to get the job done so that I could train.
I’m told that I look great, (and the scales prove it: 30 pounds vanished). I feel great. Where in years past I would get dizzy from riding in a car or the metro or feeling faint when bending over or just lying down; now I do shoulder rolls to entertain small children!
In the fall of 2014 and with encouragement from Master Santillo, I decided to travel to China. To train with the Shaolin Monks and perhaps earn my Black Belt. To train where it all began. To test for my black. To be outside my element, not in my dojo, not in my comfort zone. Would I be up to the task? I had taken many belt tests at my cozy dojo. It was somewhat scary to think about testing not only in China but in the Shaolin Temple. I was unable to visualize it. However, this unknowing, this uncertainty was a great catalyst in my training, driving me. I started doing daily push ups, running, and doing extra sets during class.
In the end my hard work paid off, on August 15, 2014 I went to China studied with the monks and earned my black belt.
The photo at the top page was at the Great Wall of China, just above after receiving my black belt on Mt. Song, and below at Potomac Kempo in Alexandria VA with Master Santillo (in Red pants)
