Batman V Superman: One Fan’s Path to Acceptance

Author’s Note: I want you to see this film for yourself. So I’ve done my best to avoid spoilers though some are unavoidable. Proceed with caution.

Three years we waited. At the first unveiling of the Batman/Superman logo in 2013 fans cheered at the anticipation of two of the most famous and influential superheroes sharing space on the big screen. The roar from the audience filled the room at the exact moment when the Bat symbol layered underneath the “symbol of hope.” Finally, the Man of Steel and Dark Knight together. The only problem, it wasn’t the Dark Knight we’d all grown to be so attached. So with endless hype and of course, many, many Batfleck memes, the excitement and apprehension started to flood the Internet. The question remained, would this film be the movie the fans deserved? Would Ben Affleck forever be left in the legendary wake of Christian Bale’s realistic portrayal of Batman/Bruce Wayne in the beloved Nolan trilogy?

Well the move is officially out, as is the verdict. I refused to believe that one actor would single-handedly ruin this movie, and in this instance, I believe I have been proven correct. In fact, the performances are the most redeeming qualities about the film; performances against the odds. There are so many aspects to film making outside of the performers. The elements that really influence the success/failure of a film are the writing and choices made. These are the two essentials that stained the Batman V Superman film (not to say this film was a complete failure).

Bias

So here is one fan’s honest answer to these questions along with a full analysis of the overall film. However, everyone has biases and I’ll be frank, I have many. The most prominent is my attachment to the Nolan Trilogy. The Dark Knight Rises (TDKR) was featured in my Master’s thesis as a result of its revolutionary inspired aesthetic and themes. I spent hours with that film, watching and re-watching over and over, spending hours transcribing, discussing, and defending. You’d think I’d despise the film after all the time spent with it, but I only grew to love the film more, including its characters. I’m often asked how I fit Batman into a MA thesis of History and the answer is simple; its Batman, he fits into everything. Batman has forever been my everything when it comes to superheroes, another admitted glaring bias.

For those who don’t know, I’m also from Massachusetts. That’s right I “pahk” my loyalty behind our hometown actors, in this case Affleck, but not without good reason. After seeing Argo and some other films from later in his career, all was forgiven (and by all I mean Daredevil). He had stretched not only his acting limits but had also done some impressive work behind the camera. He will also forever be a part of the Kevin Smith clique, and as we all know, Kevin Smith is usually on point with his superhero analysis. I, like Smith, had hope for Ben. So with Benny behind the wheel of the most famous “cah” on the planet, I went into this film open to a new interpretation of Batman and Bruce Wayne while others went in armed and ready to tear Affleck’s performance apart.

However, there was one key thing I needed to find before truly going in with an open mind and heart, acceptance. Do I wish it were Bale on screen? Yes, of course! But guess what, he refused the opportunity. So it was time to separate my attachment and appreciation of the Nolan Trilogy, including Bale, from what I was about to see. I also had to throw my trust into the production since Nolan and Zimmer (music bias alert) were both still a part of this new chapter of Batman’s on screen legacy.

Batman: A Win for Ben

Now what you really want to know, what did I think? Well I think there is a reason I’m opening this review and focusing almost solely on Affleck. A lot of the criticism even before the film was released was rooted in the casting choice of Affleck. From the second I saw the first image of Affleck “brooding” in the new suit next to the new Batmobile, I had even more hope than ever before. It was as if Snyder had taken the Batman right out of Frank Miller’s comic and brought him to life.

  

Bale was actually once criticized by Nolan for being “too big” in Batman Begins at one point, and was forced to become leaner, agile, more practical. In thinking back to our other beloved Batmans, Keaton, Kilmer, and Clooney (not so beloved), we are reminded that none of these guys are “massive” by any means. Fans had not seen a live action broad Bruce Wayne/Batman. Yet Snyder extracted this very imagery creating not only a Milleresque Batman/Wayne but also an image that is also reminiscent of the acclaimed Animated Series. The choice for a broader Batman was novel for film. Henry Cavill (Superman/Kent) even admitted that Ben’s commitment to Bruce’s physique made Cavill step-up his own game. That kind of commitment can’t go unacknowledged. Ben threw himself into this role physically. His chief critics can't even deny that.

However, looks aren’t everything, and Kevin Smith’s defense of Batfleck proved true:

"The hardest thing to nail about Batman is Bruce Wayne, because that’s where you’ve got no mask and you’ve got to be a human being. But that dude is Bruce Wayne, so he’s born to play that role."

Miller’s interpretation of Bruce Wayne at this stage is an aging, heated, tortured, borderline anti-hero. This is the large and angry phase of Bruce/Batman, and Affleck nails it. One Easter Egg (shown in the trailer) is when Bruce stares despairingly at the graffiti-ridden Robin suit while in the Bat Cave; undoubtedly the suit of Jason Todd (here’s hoping). This is the one storyline Batfans have been asking to see in live action for years. The loss of Jason to the Joker defines Bruce in the latter part of his career. This is the Bruce that starts playing chicken with his own rules, the Bruce who is irate and possibly even more vengeful than when he first initiated “The Batman.” This is the Bruce that turns to the bottle, the Bruce that is even more flawed than ever before. Affleck captures this torment and anger perfectly. He’s been criticized for being “sad” or “brooding” in this film, yet, this is a misinterpretation. Make no mistake, he is one pissed of Bat, a theme I anticipate will be further explored in the coming films. When I read “The Dark Night Returns,” “Death in the Family,” and “Hush” the attitude I felt from Bruce/Batman is exactly the same that I felt from Ben’s performance. I believe Affleck did his homework, and my interpretation of Batman at this stage in his life aligns with Ben’s performance.

Snyder got one thing right when it comes to Batman, his emphasize on aesthetic. At numerous points in the film there are scenes staged as if right out of the comics. For example, the scene with Martha Wayne’s pearls and the gun that kills her, that imagery is straight out of the comics. These scenes are the nod to the comic book fans. This is the part of the film that fans deserved. But there is one glaring choice for the character of Batman that went terribly awry.

Batman: A Loss for Synder

I think I speak for all Batfans when I say WHAT IS WITH ALL OF THE GUNS ZACK!? I’m putting this on Snyder because he owned this project. Whether this was his choice or not it was his responsibility to put an end to it. One of my favorite moments in the TDKR is when Catwoman returns to save Batman from Talia al Ghul and Bane, and she acutely points out “About the whole no guns thing…I’m not sure I feel as strongly about it as you do.”

It’s a nod to who Batman is. The shooting of Bruce’s parents is what started this whole saga. It’s a nod not only to the foundation of the story, but to who Bruce is. This element of the story was masterfully explored by Nolan in both Batman Begins and TDKR. Snyder has gone the exact opposite way on this one.

Was Snyder trying to define himself against Nolan? Was this an example of how far Bruce has strayed from himself? Is this a physical manifestation of Bruce’s anger? Regardless, this choice has Batfans justifiably screaming. So although Selina Kyle may not have had a problem with the unnecessarily high volume of gunfire at the hand of the Bat in this film, the rest of us absolutely do. This is possibly the biggest catastrophe of Batman V Superman.

My emphasis on Batman could just be my bias showing, but in my opinion it is through the character of Bruce/Batman that we see the greatest success and failure of this film. But how about this Batfan takes a look at aspects outside of her favorite caped crusader.

Other Misses: Story, CGI, and Luthor

The overreliance on dream sequences is an artistic choice that, in part, resulted in a terribly muddled story. While Marvel took the time to have independent films for each of the main heros and then with calculated intent brought them together for Avengers, Warner Brothers has made the fatal decision to prioritize keeping pace with the success of the Marvel franchise over building a comprehensive story and developing our beloved DC characters. I guess one could say in this case Snyder was setup for failure. Trying to cram in three characters’ storylines with only one prequel (Man of Steel) while establishing the foundation for the inevitable Justice League films is in short, impractical. Despite an admirable performance by Gal Gadot, the audience barely gets to know her before she ends up suited up ready for an overly CGI’d battle. Ah yes the over use of CGI. Massive explosions and destruction left and right (if you like that), but Doomsday was more loud an obnoxious than terrifying. As a monster he was genericized an impersonal. Why? Too much CGI. If you’ve read the comic you know the significance of Doomsday, and to the audience, it was just another computerized, and therefore impersonal, alien/monster.

If the film had stayed focused on Superman’s story in terms of the relationship with Lois (one of the more touching aspects of the film), the U.S. Government’s philosophical debate of governance surrounding Superman’s powers/intervention, and the kind of hero Clark wanted to be, it could have been a focused and stimulating follow-up to Man of Steel. Yet when recreating the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne within a dream sequence at the beginning of the film, paired with explaining why Bruce is so peeved with Superman, while also sporadically exploring Diana’s origins is just too much to cram into an already too lengthy film.

Which ushers in the next part of the story that I personally had a hard time swallowing, Lex Luthor. Amidst all the other “cramming” we are introduced to who is supposed to be one of the most brilliant and evil masterminds of all time. Instead, we are presented with Eisenburg. Not to say this portrayal wasn’t interesting, I dare say I think Eisenburg would have a made a superb Riddler or even the Clock King, but Lex Luthor he is not. Luthor has a certain finesse, explosive yes, but there is always a calculated calm before the storm with Luthor. Eisenbug’s Luthor is troubled, twitchy and frankly bothersome. It appears that Eisenburg maybe tried to do for Luthor what Ledger did for the Joker; in short this was a risk that did not pay off. Though this is the only performance in the film I severely struggled with.

Other Wins: Performances & Score

Cavill again makes an amiable Superman. Not quite Bale-level awe from the newer interpretation of Superman, but he is the newer face of the hero and his clean cut yet slightly besieged psyche plays out just fine. What is undeniable is the chemistry between Cavill and Adams. Lois and Clark are one of the great romance stories of early comics. Amy Adams, who didn’t completely have me won over in Man of Steel, stole my heart in Batman V Superman. Both a cut throat reporter, and at times heroine, while Adams was on screen she really stole the show solidifying her role in the franchise. Lois was not only helping Clark navigate through the tough political waters in Metropolis, she was really taking an active role in helping Clark become the hero he wanted to be while literally taking physical action when needed. Their bond was powerful, real, and engaging.

The unsung hero of the film is Jeremy Irons. All he was missing was the pencil mustache to be my perfect Alfred. He was hands on in the Bat Cave and served in a role akin to Oracle, which seemed to fit nicely. One of the only practical points of the film. On more than one occasion Irons executed some perfectly timed sarcastic provocations, targeted of course at Bruce, for some much needed comic relief.

As mentioned Gal will own the role of Wonder Women once her character is given the room to develop. If nothing else, her fight scenes were on par. One of the highlights of the film is when she is introduced in full armor amidst yet another flawlessly crafted Zimmer score with tribal drums and electric guitar. Her theme is solidified, as is her role.

Again we rely on aesthetics for why I would watch this movie again. These heroes are mythic, deeply-seeded in the American consciousness (and beyond). This movie is large an unapologetic in being so. When Batman is off to rescue a certain someone, one of the best hand-to-hand combat scenes in the film is at play. Affleck admits to studying Connor McGregor’s fight style with the intent of incorporating into Bruce/Batman and this scene is where his studies materialize.

The one thing this film unquestionably did successfully was bring our favorite heroes together to the Silver Screen in an epic way. Seeing Batman and Superman fighting side-by-side, and of course at times each other, did give me goosebumps (again no doubt an emotional reaction to another perfectly timed Zimmer score). If I were ten years old again, I’d see them as untouchable Gods, just because of who they are. So perhaps this film rested too much the laurels of it’s characters. But lets give credit where credit is due, despite some dangerously cheesy lines and cluttered storylines, these performances stayed afloat upon a sinking ship.

Final Thoughts

If you hated Batman V Superman, I suggest you place the blame on three parties:

1. The Studio
2. The Director
3. The Writers

In short, leave Batfleck out of it.

The film was good for what it was; a time sensitive studio-driven project intended to compete with another franchise and therefore overlooked character development and pertinent story details.

The film’s saving grace? Good performances and chemistry, quality hand-to-hand combat scenes, and an attention to comic book-inspired aesthetics. Story snafus, length, and a miss on a few key character points can only be blamed on the money hungry studio who didn’t take the time needed to do this right. Though I am confident of what is to come from the rising dirt off a certain casket, I am unsure of what is to come of the franchise. What I do know is the franchise has moved on from the practicality of Nolan’s interpretation with the sole purpose of obtaining what else but more dollars. So let us take this film for what it is.

If you are OK with seeing an action-packed film that includes some of your favorite super heroes that look awesome, consider this a good movie. If you haven’t accepted that Nolan’s Triology has concluded, you will struggle with this film. The writing between Nolan’s film and Snyder’s film couldn’t be any more paradoxical and there is no “practical” or “real” factor to the Snyder film despite Nolan’s production influence (which is either non-existent or minimal).

So while you’re tearing the film apart, really thank the actors and comic book aesthetics for making this a watchable movie, because lets be honest, the eleven year old inside of us is still excited that these three heroes stood side-by-side, larger than life, on the Silver Screen for the first time. Think again about watching this movie within the innocent perspective of our younger selves, before we became cynical and overly opinionated and lets be brutally honest, snobbish. If we were to watch it purely from this innocent state of awe, than we’d likely watch it again, tying red and black capes around our necks as we battle it out on the playground, as it should be.

The Core

Resistance is directly proportional to love. If you're feeling massive Resistance, the good news is, it means there's tremendous love there too. If you didn't love the project that is terrifying you, you wouldn't feel anything. The opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference. The more Resistance you experience, the more important your unmanifested art/ project/ enterprise is to you--and the more gratification you will feel when you finally do it. – Stephen Pressfield, The War of Art

My core is weak. Most of the exercises I perform revolve around my core as does my karate training. How is my core the weakest part of me when I exercise my core roughly 4-5 times a week? And yes I do try to actively engage my core when exercising. What it comes down to is my spine. I have scoliosis in 2 places; the most noticeable is I actually have hunched shoulders. Now I’m not saying I’m quasimoto, but it is enough to impact my everyday whether its training, breathing, or doing absolutely nothing.

Scoliosis runs on my mother’s side of the family and I acquired it at the ripe ol’ age of 10. I was so active that I never did a body cast or anything drastic, just regular chiropractic visits which didn’t actually help anything. Martial arts however, did help me. This is one of the many reasons for my return, “maybe it can help with my back pain,” I thought. My mother always attributed my intentional attempts to stand up straight to my karate training--this has stuck in the back of my mind for years.

A characteristic of Shorei-Ryu is we stand very erect, very upright in everything we do. This is proving to be quite the challenge. It hurts to pull my shoulders back and it also takes a lot of energy out of me to do so. This is conflicting as it contradicts the conservation of energy theory—having to think about pulling my shoulders back, doing it, and being in pain is an energy suck for me and a great advantage for my opponents. This fatigues me quicker, which impacts my technique whether its kata or kumite. Also when trying to specifically condition my mid section (e.g. situps, planks), I often get a pinching sensation in my lower back that is quite painful.  I try to push through, though it is usually accompanied by moans of torture and a squinting affect. So the focus of my training right now is my posture, praying that if I train it enough it will become habit. Hoping that I will once again stand tall without it requiring active thought or pain. When that time comes, I will know my core is once again strong.

The core has also been interpreted as a person’s soul or chi and has even been tied to the heart. This could be argued by philosophers and physiologists indefinitely but to me, when I think of the core, I think of my gut where all my emotions reside. Like I said in the beginning of this post, my core is weak.

My core is weak because I am full of doubt and lacking in confidence. I’ve been experiencing an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach due to resistance over the last few months. There will always be naysayers in anything you do, this I know. I’ve been torn down my entire life, the higher I rise the more often I find people grasping at my ankles to pull me down. It’s something I should be used to but I’ve never been one to have an “I don’t give a f*ck attitude;” I care far too much about what others think, which means others' opinions infiltrate my mind and take hold, planting the seed of resistance. This character flaw began to greatly impact my focus and my training. This compromising of my core, which no doubt is a result from others’ voices in my head, makes me trip over myself and make mistakes, as one does when in a fish bowl. I wish it was only Sensei’s voice in my mind, and then success would be inevitable. Or even better, my own confident voice.

So along with trying to strengthen my mid section, I am also trying to remold my character. I am finding this is my hardest test yet. I’ve redirected my focus the last few weeks to my goals, my healing and my training-- while pushing the voices of others out of my mind. Though we train with others, it is not a team sport, traditionally. There is no one there to pick up the slack or to point the finger at. Failure and success lies entirely within one body, one mind and one soul. The journey of a martial artist is very personal; one often finds oneself immersed in a cloud of solitude while reflecting on one’s training. Whether the focus be technique, aspirations or a question of character, reflection is a huge part of the journey. That is much of why I returned to begin with, to perfect my character to the best of my ability. So I currently face a part of me I wish to improve. My core, where the hunger lies, that is what will help me to ascend to the level I so deeply desire. When that time comes, I will encounter a gratification so pure that it will taste of ectasy.

The Struggle-It's Real

The decline from my 2014 “Autumn High” was quick and relentless both physically and emotionally. Many obstacles started getting tossed my way, that’s life I suppose. Winter came quick and it was hard and long. We live in a basement apartment with low ceilings—this can be problematic for triaining. Usually I can train a little outside, and I did so, even waist deep in snow. Soon the roof collapsed creating debris outside, so any area I had to train with was rescinded by Winter's temper. The snow made the hour commute to the dojo even harder. I did what I could in small spaces like ippons, kihons, basics, etc., but with no one to train with the frustration took hold. My only saving grace, mentally, this winter was Kung Fu. Only ten minutes away, these classes held me over through the season. I had partial peace of mind that I was still training in the martial arts, working on my balance, flexibility and fluidity but the dojo remained on my mind. I was already training for first kyu as a result of October's momentum yet with minimal dojo time and no training buddies I felt I was falling behind where I wanted to be.

Sanchin in the Snow

Then Spring reared its head. The pollen was out of control and therefore so was my breathing. It got so bad that my chest pains started to come back when I tried doing anything cardio-oriented. I had surgery years ago because of these chest pains, but that didn't fix the issue. I had to lay low until I could get into my allergy and asthma specialist. Of course the only options are more inhalers or shots, neither of which I am keen on but at this point I'm willing to do anything within reason. My training is suffering therefore I am suffering. I am one of the highest ranked individuals in the dojo, so when I fatigue first and often I hate myself for it. When technique is compromised because I can't get that oxygen to my muscles to recover, I literally want to fall to my knees and cry. The worst part is there isn't a damn thing I can do about it really. The shots and more inhalers are the only remaining steps. I'm not sold on them for a few reasons:

1. Side effects 
2. Cost

However, I'm running out of options. I even attempted to start running outside and I loathe running. I was, and still am, desperate to increase my stamina, but this old school method had its impacts including shin splints, an aching knee (which is new), and increased back pain. I should have listened to my father who always told me never to run outside, the effects are too severe. I hoped training in this traditional method would increase my stamina, instead I’m left injured and aggravated that I set myself back even further.

I hate to sound full of excuses especially since this is my harsh reality. I’m thirty years old and yet I feel like I am fifty. Sickness and injuries is my life right now. If I'm ever going to get to the level I want in this style I have to figure something out. Without stamina (which I need to breath to be able to obtain) I can't succeed in this style—and right now I am miserably drowning in my passion. Strength, speed and stamina are the foundation to the Shorei-Ryu style, there is no way around it. The most frustrating part is I will train hard and take 5 steps forward, and then depending on the day, take 6 steps back because of allergies or some other factor which causes inflammation or injury. When I watch everyone else around me, they train, they improve, it’s that simple. They may get hurt, but those wounds heal. Me on the other hand, my wounds are mostly on the inside and there is no cure. This has compromised my confidence significantly these past few months and has made me question everything about my journey.

Those around me that are aware of this struggle have asked "Why don't you just pick a different style?" I've thought about this long and hard, and never say never I suppose, but if I go anywhere else it will be bittersweet. It's not that I mind starting over somewhere else, we are all a white belt in something. But for me, this dojo was a part of my childhood and now my adulthood, the people are like family and my Sensei is the only one in my mind, heart and soul that I know can get me to the level that I want to be at. So yes I could go somewhere else, and probably advance faster to be honest (we have very high standards), struggle less, take it slower, but to have black tied around my waist by anyone other than Sensei just wouldn't feel right—more importantly having to divorce myself from the style I know and love would only bring me more suffering. It would feel as if I took a shortcut. It would feel as if I quit.

Putting on another uniform and tying on a different obi would serve as a reminder of what I didn't or couldn't do – an artifact of my failure. Those who know me well know failure is the chief demon I’m constantly battling and often dominating, but at this moment that is not the case. To be up against the ropes like this brings an unfamiliar and unsettling feeling.

"But you take Kung Fu elsewhere." This is true, but there is a method to my madness. I take Kung Fu and am also currently looking into taking Judo because my style has Kung Fu and Judo elements. My style, in itself is a mixed martial art (more on that in a future post). Everything I do outside of my dojo is built on my foundation in Shorei-Ryu. I chose to take the Animal Form Kung Fu classes because we have animal forms in our style. In speaking with my Sifu, I told her I wanted to better my balance, flexibility and fluidity and she explained Kung Fu is as a great fit for these goals--Sensei agreed. I should also note that I spoke to Sensei about this before pursuing. He has done almost everything under the sun, so I always fish for his insight and blessing.

So where does this leave me? For now, I'm trying. Every day I am doing something to try to make this better whether it is breathing exercises, meditation, medication or new training methods. I keep a journal next to my bed, and every day there is section that says "What I did today?" This indicates what I did that day to make me better. I borrowed this concept from Ronda Rousey. The only reason I have the guts to put something this personal on here is because of Rousey. After reading her book My Fight/Your Fight, I realized I’m not the only emotional martial artist out there. She gets frustrated, she cries, she yells, she doubts. That is the exact state I am in right now. Karatedo is a way of life, so when my training is compromised it impacts me as a person profoundly, and I was relieved to read I am not the only one. So all I can do now is keep working with my doctors and see what works. My fear is nothing will work at which point I'll need to find acceptance that I failed and try to move on. But I'm going to do everything I can to find a way to make this work, even if it’s hard (and it is), even if I cry (and I do), even if I bleed (and I have). No one said that was going to be easy, so I’m trying to remind myself that “The hard… is what makes it great.”

The High

It's been forever since I've posted to this blog, perhaps because my martial arts journey hasn't gone as I had hoped it would lately. But I promised complete honesty with this project, so my story will continue to be voiced. To regain momentum,  I will start with the October 4, 2014 event that will forever be one of the greatest highlights of my martial arts journey and my life.

I was on such a high after the night of promotions, when I received my second kyu brown belt. This feeling of elation was in part due to the "my hard work paid off" experience - I had passed the test and moved up in rank. We had trained for the greater part of the summer and even with some obstacles in our way, from sickness to injury and maddening scheduling issues, we showed up and delivered on the night of the test. Drenched in sweat amidst the thick air of pure exhaustion, three of us tied our new belts around our waist ushering in the next chapter of our martial arts journey.

I should have been on a high because I was promoted in less than a year from my return; something I didn't think was actually going to happen due to the nature of promotions in our school and some last minute work trips that impacted my training schedule. I should have felt amazing about the test as our Sensei, Renshi and Hanshi all commented on how well we did and genuinely seemed "jazzed-up" after the ceremony. We all went to dinner after the test and Renshi (who was my first Sensei) said, "Soon we will be preparing our speeches for your black belt ceremony." These words were pure ecstasy; to me, Renshi is superhuman, so for him to think that Shodan is in my future is beyond inspiring.

This excitement, strictly pertaining to my performance, quickly descended from its peak where Renshi’s words rested. During the post-reflection period that occurred for me within the weeks following the test I watched tape of the test, analyzed my every move and became hungrier for my next steps. After watching the tape, all I could think about is how to improve. I didn't hate my performance but I didn't love it either. I didn't feel the confidence and sense of control (mentally) that I did when I promoted to 3rd kyu brown belt at sixteen. I didn't "own" the test, if you will. I still fatigued early on (in my opinion) and my breathing did prove to be an issue - which creates a domino effect in my techniques. I voiced these concerns to Sensei months after the test. He explained, "I wouldn't have had you promote in-front of MY teachers if I didn't think you were ready." His words comforted me in the moment, but that comfort soon faded.

After much reflection on why I was feeling this way, I understand now that I am not where I want to be and that this is why I was, and still am experiencing such discontent with my involvement in the test, and frankly in the dojo (a story for another day). My strength is there, but my speed and stamina are not where I need them to be. Because of some health issues I have, I often take 5 steps forward and then 8 steps back depending on what is going on with my body. This cycle is infuriating. So it is this simple, I am not where I want to be in my martial arts journey. But this individual discontent didn't eclipse my overall two-month high after the promotion ceremony.

Meeting with the Masters after so many years was unreal. Truly I was like a kid on Christmas, except in this case Santa Clause comes in the form of five black belts who are going to kick the crap out of you for the next few hours while you demonstrate everything you know.

These black belts are all truly wonderful men. They are men of integrity, honor, discipline but most importantly, kindness. I feel so blessed to have such amazing individuals at the top of our system's hierarchy.

The night of the promotion I watched my Sensei become a Master. He didn't know it was coming, though the rest of us suspected. I held back tears as I watched him perform his katas. He is so busy teaching us so often that we rarely get to see what he can do anymore, so these moments where we see him in action are the ones I cling to. He is a truly talented martial artist; he performed with such grace and power I reacted very emotionally to his performance and his promotion and had to hold back the tears. Our Sensei was now a Master, a well-deserved one at that. The way he sees his teachers, through the eyes of admiration and absolute respect, is the way I see him. Someone of character who is a true role model, someone I trust, someone I want to make proud; he is the only person that has the power to make me be the marital artist I want to be – which to me means he is a large part of who I want to be as a person because the martial arts is not just a sport but a way of life. His expectations are high, he pushes us hard, but he himself delivers. It is the epitome of leading by example, both inside and outside of the dojo. I feel truly honored to have been there to see him receive his 4th dan from Renshi and Hanshi.

Also to be there the first female Shodan promotion at our school was just incredible. She is humble so of course she minimized her truly amazing accomplishments of that night. She has spent years training, teaching and conducting herself in such a manner that all should aspire to. That night she became Sensei, another title well deserved. Not only was she the first female black belt at our school, but our Sensei's first black belt that he promoted. It was a big night of firsts, and I feel lucky to have been apart of it.

I could go on and on here about all the nuances of the night but really why I was on such a high from this night was because this was dojo history in the making and I was there to witness all of these amazing milestones which included simply wonderful people. What I forgot to keep in mind is everything that rises must fall.

The Masters

I will be composing an article about my recent promotion to 2nd kyu Brown Belt where I got to learn from our style's masters. This will go down as one of the best highlights of my life, so I want to take the time to write it. Stay tuned...

The Fight

The Decision

I have never enjoyed fighting. So why am I in the martial arts? It makes very little sense, I know. The martial arts had a wonderful way of fulfilling my mind, body, and soul. It was never about the fighting for me, it was about physical, spiritual and mental alignment.

It appears that the sport itself (not necessarily our dojo) has become a bit more tournament-centric than it was previously. Maybe this is attributed to the rise of Mixed Martial Arts (MMA), maybe it’s because winning fights are becoming more and more students’ end goals. Or maybe, and likely, I just never cared to notice the significance of fighting. Our dojo has never put a lot of weight on tournaments. We understand that it is something that benefits us, as a mental exercise, and we learn a lot about ourselves when participating in competition. It also serves a great opportunity to spar with other martial artists outside our dojo, so we can learn and adjust our techniques to be better. It has never been a rank requirement in or dojo. In fact it’s never really been mandatory in our dojo. To me, it’s usually the last thing on my mind when practicing. 

After class one night, I had asked Sensei III about the upcoming tournament details as I planned on filming the students participating so we’d have some updated videos for our website. He proceeded to ask if I was thinking about competing. I hesitated and said, “I dunno, I’m not ready.”

           

“I think you’re ready.”

            “I guess I could do kata.”

            “Do it!”

To give you some background, kata (forms/routines) was always my forte. I won first place, even against the boys, in kata. My favorite kata to perform is Empi Sho. Empi Sho translates to “Flying Swallow” or “First Elbow Form.” It is recorded that this kata was first performed in Okinawa around 1895. This form has serious roots; it’s unarguably a traditional kata, which is why I think I am so drawn to it (history nerd). This kata, in its essence, is elegant and resolved and I adore that balance. I concluded my karate career at the top with Empi, and I figured why not start back with Empi. I don’t think Sensei III was surprised by my choice. Sensei III has also won many tournaments with this kata. I chose Empi not because I won with it before, but because I performed it near the end of the first chapter of my martial arts career and thought it appropriate to perform it again at my new beginning. In the martial arts circles are such an important representation of a karateka’s journey, so a lot of my decisions are based on this “full circle” philosophy.

This is a difficult kata to perform. My choice definitely proves challenging, as the stances are very deep, requiring impeccable balance and unwavering strength from the core. Two things I still have to re-master. Trying to train my body back into this kata has proven incredibly difficult and frustrating. I of course could have chose a less difficult kata, but the symbolism behind Empi for me holds more weight. I’d rather lose with Empi than win with any other kata.

Sensei and I also decided that a bo kata could be fun for the traditional weapons category, so Tsue Sho No Kon Bo was added to the list. Fighting didn’t even cross my mind, especially at this point. It has been twelve years, and I hadn’t sparred with anyone since my return to the dojo. I am the type of person that really likes to be prepared when taking something on, and the final decision to participate in the tournament only gave me 2-3 weeks to prepare. The decision to perform kata alone was surprising to myself since I would have preferred 2-3 months prep time as opposed to weeks. The idea of entering a tournament after over a decade terrified me on its own, never mind feeling ill-prepared. In short, I suppose when it gets down to it, I intended on losing. The point of participating was to throw my hat back in the ring so I could desensitize myself to my surroundings and the experience. In my mind it was just kata, after all, I could handle a two minute routine.

So when Sensei III (who I will refer to simply as Sensei for this article) asked me if I was going to fight, I was somewhat bewildered. I told him I didn’t think I was ready and he assured me that he thought I was. I had only been back a few months but he said my “mechanics” were still present and I was more ready than I thought I was. I was very hesitant. After a long pause, I replied, “lets spar in class next week and I’ll see how it goes.”

I went home that night to see which division I would be fighting in. With my asthma still such an issue Sensei and I agreed that point sparring was the way to go for me (as opposed to continuous sparring which requires more cardio). After entering all the needed details on the tournament website (e.g. age, weight, rank), the category I had been searching for displayed. My heart sank to my stomach; the age group was “18-29.” I thought, if I fought myself at age 18, I’m pretty sure 18 year-old me would win. Sensei, adamantly disagreed.

Sensei explained that experience and wisdom could work in my favor and that I am stronger now and I was at 16. In a true Mr. Miyagi-like moment, he said, “I wouldn’t have told you to fight if I didn’t think you could fight. Your biggest challenge is mental. You need to think of this as a learning experience and getting back into it as opposed to going in trying to win, because you’re a natural competitor. Use this to gage where your fighting style is at now and what work you need to do.” What can I say? He knows his audience, I love to learn, and everyone knows that. So, somewhat reluctantly yet hungrily (an odd paradox to be amidst), I agreed.

Preparation

Next class, I had to fight a very tall 21-year-old guy. First fight in twelve years and I am fighting a young lad who actually really enjoys sparring. Even worse, I have always, and I mean always, hated sparring really tall people because their reach throws me off. When I go in I get tangled and lost in their flailing arms in feet, which, depending on your competitor, can be very painful. Since I have lost a lot of my speed, I am unable to get out as fast as I used to, putting me in a really bad position strategically. In short, this fight was my worst nightmare. Regardless, the rust needed to be broken off, and really there was no one else to spar, it was time. I was way too in my head before even going into it. I didn’t remember the tournament rules, my equipment wasn’t broken in yet, and Sensei conditioned the crap out of us for the hour preceding. I was already tired and my legs a bit shaky. Before I knew it, I found myself in three thirty second rounds, i.e. not point sparring, so my asthma of course acted up a bit. Oh well, it was time to sink or swim. I ended up flinking, I think. I snuck a couple good hits in, definitely took a few (he was wearing boxing gloves so it was hard to miss), and at the end of it, I still felt completely out of my comfort zone. I did things I never used to do, dropping my hands, not making eye contact, fighting linearly. These are all things I know I shouldn’t do, but its like I froze, without actually physically freezing. I was discouraged. The rules had also appeared to change a bit, which I didn’t know going into the fight. I was fighting a blue belt, and contact to the head was a huge no no if you were a brown belt fighting anyone below purple belt, back in the day. I took a few to the head and figured out way too late that this had changed and I could have been going after his head the entire time. I tried reminding myself that it was my first fight in twelve years and to ease up on myself, but my type-A personality interfered and I beat myself up…for days. I had bruises all over the place, which I usually don’t mind but I was getting weird looks at work. It’s a contact sport, obviously, but I never remembered having this many aches and pains after a fight, then again, I am twelve years older. I wanted to back out on the competition, but, I made a commitment and I wasn’t about to break it.

I felt as if my brain was performing some kind of mental gymnastics the entire time leading to this competition. It was hard for me to focus on anything else. Usually, I would have taken 2-3 months to prepare in terms of diet, exercise regiment etc. My previous strategy going into these tournaments was to only participate in one event each tournament, so that my preparation was solely focused on the one thing at hand, whether it be fighting or kata. However, since the name of this game was participation and jumping back into the game, why not participate in all three events. I was not as prepared as I would have liked to be but this wasn’t about winning, it was simply about doing. Or so I kept reminding myself (driving my wife insane along the way).

Two days before the tournament, I woke up completely stiff in my lower back while something pulled on the right side of my neck/shoulder. We tried heat, ice, ibuprofen, and nothing was really working. I am still not even sure what I did, it could have been as simple as sleeping wrong. I’ve had trouble with my left shoulder all year, and Sensei (who is also a PT) has been treating the left side. It was remarkably better, just got a bit locked up here and there, nothing he couldn’t fix. But now, my right side screamed mutiny but nothing, and I mean nothing, was going to stop me from doing this tournament. The suspense and anxiety surrounding this event had been way too much to bear for me not to go through with it now. But really body?! REALLY?! So I decided to focus on stretching and healing to prevent further injury and so I could be loose and mentally strong for the tournament.

I am an academic, so I of course researched video footage of the previous year’s event. The “point sparring” looked like its own specific-style on its own. Competitors were wearing these odd silk pajama-like uniforms with no obi (belt), hockey-like helmets with facemasks, and were dancing around in a circles leaving their entire torsos wide open. This made no sense to me. “Why are you hopping like rabbits in silk pajamas leaving your main target area wide open?” Sensei assured me not to worry and that I’d be fine. Of course, I continued to freak out anyway psyching myself out. “What did I get myself into?”

While watching the weapons forms and empty-hand forms videos from the previous year, I saw what I expected to see, a lot of flash, music and gymnastics, which is irrelevant to our style so I simply ignored them. Our forms categories were all traditional, so I incorrectly assumed that I had nothing to worry about because why on earth would I be up against someone with a stainless steel bo, twirling it around their neck? That wouldn’t happen in the 1800s, so its not traditional and therefore I won’t be competing against it in a traditional category. This Monus Ponus logic would prove erroneous.

The Thursday evening before the tournament (same day I woke up stiff) the entire class was dedicated to preparing for the competition. The days prior I had asked Sensei question after question about the rules, technique, etc., as a result of my first fight and my research of last year’s videos. He circled us up at the beginning of class and talked us through the rules, what to expect, etc. Then he created two stations, one for sparring and one for kata.

One of the Assistant Instructors and I started working on weapons kata. More nerve wracking than actually performing the kata, is determining your introduction to the judges while making sure you “walk the walk” when approaching them, and also bowing to your opponents when appropriate. It’s a lot to remember, especially when your anxiety is high. The “unwritten rule” is you must state the following:

• Your Name
• Your Style of Karate
• Your School
• The Kata you are performing and
•  Ask permission to begin

We worked on our introductory paragraphs, practiced bowing and walking in aggressively and of course practiced our forms giving each other feedback. We were performing the same kata so this was awesome to work on together.

Then we moved to the back of the dojo working on our open-hand kata, so for me and was Empi time. I tried something wholly different to start of the kata. When watching the videos of the 2013 New England Open, all of the karateka rush through their katas. There are two theories on this, 1) when going fast it’s easier to show power and speed and 2) speed masks poor balance and technique. Since everyone, including my own fellow karateka, was performing their katas very quickly, I decided to take an alternate approach.

Sensei was intrigued. “I’ve never seen the opening done that way before.” I hesitated, concerned he didn’t like my interpretation (bunkai). He proceeded, “I like it a lot, but there is a something missing that I think could really make it stand out.” So we picked apart the opening of my kata, tackling every head snap, hand movement, foot position, posture and transition. It was amazing. By the end he said, “I’d love to see you do that for a promotion.” This was a glaring indication that Sensei was pleased, therefore, so was I. He then instructed, “You guys need to spar though, so lets get to it.”

So I quickly switched gears. I fought my fellow Assistant Instructor and did much better than the last time. Of course, mentally, I was way more prepared to fight her, as 1) we had sparred a bunch of times in the past 2) we are similar in that we aren’t big on sparing 3) I knew it would be very controlled since we both have old injuries and 4) she is shorter than me, which gave me some pseudo-confidence (clearly I put way too much emphasis on height, something I am working on). It was a great match up, I felt good about going into tournament, until Sensei instructed me to spar the tall 21-year-old blue belt again. We had been working solid for almost two hours, I was exhausted, this wasn’t going to be pretty.

I was mad at myself for the last fight, so I tried to be smarter in the second fight.  I utilized my shin and knee to protect my core, which proved very effective (as indicated by the numerous bumps and bruises on my leg the following morning). I even got a 45 on him and definitely scored a point to his side. I was more aggressive, despite the fact I was exhausted. After that fight I understood that I was still not even close to where I wanted to be, but I was improving. For point sparring, he really didn’t get many points, as my defense was much smarter. But navigating around the long limbs was something I still needed to improve on, that and my really horrendous posture. If it were continuous sparring, he still set the tone of the fight, something that I am striving to rectify within about a year. Still, it was better than the previous fight, a small victory I needed to remind myself of.

The entire commute home from class, which is one hour, I recited my introduction to the judges: “My name is Mallary Cutler. My style of Karate is Okinawan Shorei-Ryu. I study under Sensei III and represent the X Dojo. The kata I will be performing is kata Empi-Sho. Do I have your permission to begin?” Pretty sure I was reciting it in my sleep that night as well.

Sensei instructed me to wear a white uniform, to my disappointment. I am true Bostonian athlete in that I am insanely superstitious. I’ve only won when in black. I am also a typical female, my butt was going to look huge in white pants and black is way more slimming, lets be honest. Despite this fashion crisis, I of course was going to wear what Sensei requested. I quickly ordered and overnighted a new white ghi (uniform). After thinking about it, only brown belts and above get to wear black, and since the other two competitors weren’t brown belts yet, I would have been the only one in black, which could present a feeling of disunity. Also, if we were truly going for traditional, I wasn’t going to add any school patches on the sleeves. I was going pure white, so all that was needed was a good, crisp ironing (thank you again Rita and Amazon).

I had worked from home the day before the tournament, knowing that I needed to ice some wounds and stretch intermittently throughout the day. When performing kata, I of course get nervous but at the end of the day I feel I have more control over kata than I do sparring, so kata doesn’t elicit a lot anxiety from me (usually). Fighting however, for me, is about 90% mental. So I used an old trick of mine, a true escapist’s strategy. Watch great fighting/karate films/series to get me pumped up. So, I watched the Karate Kid films, The Fighter, and all of season 18 of The Ultimate Fighter (yes the infamous Rousey vs. Tate season) while I stretched and iced. Suddenly, I found my zone.

My zone is silent and focused, so those around me don’t usually know what to do due to the stone-faced expression on my face. Its almost a meditative trance. This was my wife’s first experience with me in this state. I am a pretty chatty person, so my somewhat stoic silence definitely led to some raised eyebrows. I finally explained, this is just how I get before a fight; she of course just kept the ice, ibuprofen, protein bars and water coming and didn’t ask any questions. Her support was unwavering.

When finally in this state, it’s a point of acceptance, I’ve trained and done all I can do, I have no more control over what happens during this competition, so its time to trust my body and just get it done. What helped me reach this point of acceptance was what I remembered from past tournaments. Competition is entirely contingent on the judges. They may not like you from the get-go for whatever reason, they may be in a blind spot where they don’t see points, and they may just never warm to our style of martial arts. That doesn’t change who we are as karateka or how we represent our school. Its truly not about winning, its about doing our best, making Sensei proud, and representing our school with the utmost class and character. It’s about striving for perfection, pushing beyond our boundaries. I was as mentally prepared as I was going to be.

The Tournament 

We left at the crack of dawn to arrive early so we could sync-up with the other karateka from our school (and Sensei). Only three of us were competing. We quickly registered and got settled. Lucky for us, our rings were all side-by-side, making the day much easier to navigate, which was a true blessing. These events can become massively chaotic and disorganized, so your Sensei can easily end up running across the entire room back and forth for an entire day. This triumph was well received at the beginning of our day, we knew how lucky we were to have these locations side-by-side.

Weapons

Since I was the only one in the “advanced category” I would be last for each event. Ah the suspense of waiting...my favorite. I watched and cheered on my fellow karateka in an attempt to forget the lingering anxiety and suspense that had taken hold of me. My first category was Traditional Weapons Forms. To my dismay, there were only two other competitors, two young men one of which, was holding a stainless steel bo and couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. We would all be performing bo katas. Both boys were in black, I was jealous.  None of our schools were CRANE or NASKA certified so the order to which we were to perform was determined by a drawing of our names. I would be second. Not my favorite position out of three performances. I’d rather either set the tone by going first or leave an impression by going last. Regardless, it wasn’t going to matter. 

The boy with the traditional heavy bo went first. His kata was wonderful; his traditional form showed that his balance was steady as his stances were firm, though not necessarily deep. His strikes and kicks were crisp, I truly could not find any errors with his routine, the pace and rhythm was wonderful and he was a pleasure to watch. As he bowed off the mat and turned to me, I bowed to him and him back to me. As I stepped onto the mat I quickly realized, this was it. My first performance in twelve years awaited me at the center of that mat. I marched towards the judges, reminding myself of the introduction. But, as the three judges (who were all older bald white men) stared at me the anxiety got hold of me and I mucked up the intro. I asked for permission to begin, then quickly followed up with the name of my kata. This was a big oops moment, one that cost me. Though it’s an “unwritten rule” really you should indicate which kata you’re performing before asking permission to begin. The kata itself felt terrible. The anxiety owned me. But when I walked off the mat, and bowed to the next competitor, I felt I secured second place at least. The next kid’s appearance, with the stainless steel bo, cut off ghi sleeves and t-shirt, suggested that he was anything but a “traditional” karateka (which is why I thought I had second place). His performance was exactly as expected, flashy. He whipped his bow around like it was a color guard routine, had super high stances due to more gymnastics moves than karate moves, and then proceeded to fix his uniform before bowing to the judges. I have no problem with routines of this type, it is simply a different style, my problem is that this routine should have been in the “open creative forms” category not the traditional category.

When the three of us approached the judges for our scores I was one point away from the boy with the traditional bo kata, no doubt attributed to my botched introduction. I felt content with the judge’s decision between him and I. However, stainless steel bow boy got first. I can’t say I was surprised; this has happened tons of times where these students who clearly belong in the opens forms category sign up for the traditional category and win over the judges with the “flash” despite the traditional context of the categorization. It’s a gamble to try this approach as the outcome could go either way, but this kid appeared somewhat calculated in what he was doing. After speaking with him briefly I felt his decision to sign up for this category was deliberate and he knew exactly what he was doing.

I quickly went over to Sensei who was clearly very happy with my performance. We talked; he really thought it was between me and the other traditional student, but we were both aware these things happen. In his eyes, it was a very tough call between me and the other traditional kata, which is all that really mattered to me. It wasn’t until I saw the recording of my kata that I realized that the kata looked way better than it felt. I was sharp and firm. In fact, it looked pretty good. My stances could have been lower and I should have gone all the way down to my knee instead of attempting the more advanced mitsurin-dachi (jungle stance) at the climax of the routine, but overall for my first performance in over a decade, it was a success. I saw glimpses of my old self and Sensei was incredibly happy with the performance, so it was a win all-around.

To recap, for the traditional forms I won third place (last place). I was given a ticket for a third place trophy. This trophy irked me, as it was reminder of how corrupt these tournaments can really be. Though it also reminded me that I would rather lose being true to my style than win at any cost. This was a lesson I had learned with tournaments a long time ago, this experience was merely a reminder of an already learned lesson, so I quickly put it out of my mind and moved on.

Kata

It became apparent after the first category that there were no other women in my age and rank group. I was curious if this was going to be the case for traditional forms and sparring as well. I looked around, and the place was swarming with black belts. My fellow female Sempai (assistant instructor) encountered a similar issue only having one or two competitors in the intermediate age 30-40 category (she is a purple belt). We agreed that many women our age are black belts or just starting out, so this in-between rank is tricky. I noted this analysis and pocketed it as motivation for me to work faster towards Shodan (first degree black belt).

Our suspicions proved accurate. There were no others to compete against for traditional forms. The judges tried persuading other women to compete against me, but they were all of lower rank, so no one wanted to go against a brown belt. However, we still get scored, so my goal was to get my best possible score. Since I was going to win first place by default, I wanted to feel as if I “earned” that first place spot. So, for this performance I would compete against, well, me. And that’s my favorite kind of competition.

I walked up to the judges and this time I didn’t muck up the introduction (winning). I took three deep breaths and began. This kata felt way better than my weapons kata. It felt solid, and I knew my face said it all, I was in the zone, until... there is one part of the kata where I bring the left leg up off the floor, and pivot on one foot (the right foot) while bringing that left leg back across my body. I’ve done this a thousand times but this time my foot dropped to the floor and my reaction gave away that this was a mistake. I should have just gone with it, improvised, the judges wouldn’t have known. Regardless, I got on with it and went out as strong as I could, knowing my fear had materialized. I made a mistake and worse my reaction gave it away. When I approached the judges for my score, to my relief, I got the same score from all three judges “99.99.” One-tenth of a point away from perfection, and clearly, I knew where the mistake was. Being me however, “if I just didn’t drop that foot!” Even Sensei said, amused, “I can’t believe you dropped your foot in Empi.” I was handed my ticket for my first-place trophy. Discouraged, I said, “great the only thing worst then losing is winning by default.” Sensei laughed and replied, “You got a 99.99, and for your first performance in that long, are you kidding me?” Point taken.

Sparring 

The last category was approaching. I had mentally prepared myself to fight for the entire two weeks leading up to this event, and after all that mental preparation, I was left with no competitors. My buddy from the dojo tried to convince her competitors to let me into their category (women, 30-40, intermediate) but they were all of lower rank, so they did not want to fight a younger brown belt (understandable). There was however, this one yellow belt from Canada (my age group) who was in the same predicament as me. They offered us an exhibition match. She would win regardless because it was her category we’d be fighting in (I won first in my category by default, which again was frustrating). The Judge looked to me and said, she agreed but you know, be careful. I assured him my control was pretty much unrivaled. 

Yellow belt is a step above white belt in most styles, so really I went into this fight at like 30%. This was this girl’s first tournament ever. She drove seven hours just to have no one to fight, this really put things into perspective for me. Since she was going win regardless I decided I’d put in just enough to make her try for it, but at the end of the day, I was going to let her win. No use showing off for an exhibition match with a beginner, I wanted this to be a good positive learning experience for her, so we went into and had a great time. I let her score a couple points, then I’d come back to “catch up” so she had to work a little harder for it. She was ecstatic by the end of the fight gave me a huge hug and then we chit chatted a bit. She came from a kick boxing background (which explained why she kept leaving her entire chest open the entire match), but she was lovely and it was an honor to be her first official match.

So, with two obnoxiously large 6’ tall first place trophies and a third place trophy, we left. There was a lot of time to reflect on the way home. In short, what I learned from this particular experience is apparently showing up is half the battle. At the end of the day that was the objective of this tournament. Show up, perform, rip-off the Band-Aid, which is exactly what I did and Sensei was happy with my performance, which was an added bonus.

Reflections

I watched a lot of tape of the tournament that weekend so I could compile some highlights for the dojo website. After watching hours of tape, I know where I can improve for next time: deeper stances, mix up the rhythm a little bit more in Empi and watch my posture when sparring. Sensei was of course right, this was an excellent learning experience. He was also right about my mechanics and instinct still being there. Coming back into the dojo at such a high rank originally made me uncomfortable, I felt like I didn’t deserve it for some reason, like I had to prove myself to everyone else. But after watching the tape over and over, and talking to Sensei about my overall analysis of all the performances and fights, I finally realized that I am still rank even after my long hiatus for a reason, and that reason is not because I brought home ridiculous trophies or won a fight.

I am seeing more and more glimpses of the martial artist that I want to be. When returning to class after the tournament, I finally felt that I was in the right place, at the right rank, and secure in my place in the dojo for the first time since my return. In talking to Sensei the epiphany revealed itself, despite my long absence, I see things others in the dojo do not see (yet), I analyze technique in a way others cannot (yet), and I perform in a way that others do not (yet), because of my experiences, because of my obsession with technical accuracy, because of my penetrating questions, ultimately, because I am rank. He explained to me the purpose of rank structure, why each of us is at the rank we are, and why I am right where I am meant to be even after twelve years .

Winning fights and tournaments has never determined rank in our dojo, and now I remember why. It’s not about winning fights and bringing home trophies. Advancing in rank is about pushing ourselves past our limits and improving our character in the process. This tournament helped me to realize, I am exactly where I am supposed to be and that the only person I need to prove anything to is myself. The fight is not with others, the fight is with myself, to be better, and to be as close to perfect as can be by learning from my mistakes. So with the Band-Aid officially ripped off, the next challenge awaits that will push me beyond my own physical, mental and emotional limits: promotion to the next kyu.

Apparently I can "win" in white.