After the day I had yesterday, I knew I had to go to karate last night. I needed to punch and kick and get my frustrations at the world out. I tried to tell myself I should stay home and take care of Big I, who is home sick for the second day in a row; but then I realized that Mr. BBM is perfectly capable and I had no excuse to not get my butt to the dojo.
Off I went.
Last night, I was the only black belt besides the instructor. At our school, we have so many talented black belts that a new one like me is sort of like being in 13th grade. When people have questions, they go to the higher ranked black belts who have been there forever. They don't come to the newbie with questions; but last night that changed because none of the ones with the answers were there.
Our instructor was going around the dojo and asking each person to do a different waza. A green and brown belt made their way over to me and whispered, "What's mine?" I had to know ten of them for black belt testing. Back in June, someone could pick one and I could do it without a problem. But we don't do waza that often in class. Ask me any kata up to Shodan and I can show you; waza is a different story.
I started with one and mentally made my way up to around six. If I do them in order, I can get them sometimes. If someone shows me the first move, I can usually let my muscle-memory do the rest. Last night, unfortunately, the poor brown belt was pretty much on his own. So was I though, because when my instructor asked me to do ten, I had to ask him to get me started. I don't know why waza are so difficult to remember, but they are so slippery in my brain. They just don't stick around long before sliding off into oblivion. I need to fix that.
With dojo testing coming up this weekend, the white belts were preparing their testing materials. My instructor asked me to take any white belts who wanted to do their material in front of me downstairs. Two little girls showed me their stuff and did a great job. It was nice to teach them little things without having them roll their eyes at me like some of my university students do, when I simply ask them to take out a sheet of paper. I had a good time going over things with them and then went upstairs to practice some of the higher waza.
There are some green belts getting ready to test as well, so we did much of their material which is always good review for me. As the end of class was nearing, my instructor asked me to run the green belts through the first bo kata. We went through it a couple times and it felt weird to be up front, teaching someone else. I'm just never really in the position to do that at my dojo. It felt weird, but it definitely felt good that my instructor handed things off to me a few times. I take that as a huge compliment.
When the class was over, one of the Mom's of one of our green belts congratulated me on my black belt. I haven't seen her since before I tested. This particular Mom and I used to hang out on the sidelines when I was injured. She had ACL reconstruction when she was in college and we used to compare notes. We frequently talked about whether or not it was worth it to come back and risk re-injuring the knee. During the time when I was sidelined, I must admit that I often thought about not going back. ACL reconstruction just sucked so badly that I didn't want to ever risk going through that again.
But last night, as I drove home from the dojo, I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I'm so proud of my comeback; and it's exciting that I am now in a position where I am being asked to help other people reach their goals. There is nothing better than doing that.
