Kick - 8/9/2019

“Are you tired, Mr. Ko?”

“No, sir!”

“Are you sure? Do you think you are going to die?”

“No, sir!”

“That’s right. We're just getting started."

Despite the interrogation happening an inch from my nose, I stared forward and was just glad to have a few seconds of rest after the hour of forward snap kicks. For those untrained in martial arts, a forward snap kick begins from the back leg in a side horse stance. In ⅓ of a second, my kick would reach its invisible target in front of me, lock out for ⅓ of a second, and return to its horse stance as quickly as it left. In less than a second, it was over. If you blinked, you’d probably miss it. 

Now, typically during class, a kick is performed with probably 60-80 percent power. But this was Instructors Training. For my school, it was the equivalent of the Army’s Ranger School, specifically designed to break you down, find your mental and physical limits, exploit them, and make you ask the famous four words. “Why am I here?” Anything less than 100% could be sniffed out by the instructing staff and punishment was administered, usually in the form of extra PT.

The thing about me is that I was typically the toughest in each class. I had won multiple gold medals at each tournament, was one of the quickest in the school, and always went the extra mile during training. But that was the problem. Everyone knew it. That’s why I was being picked on. Everyone wanted to see how far I could go. 

Every potential instructor candidate had to endure the course. Being a black belt meant nothing. It was an equal playing field. Nobody had any idea how long we’d be there or what was on the agenda. We could be there for 30 minutes. We could be there for 3 hours. Instructors discouraged us from making plans those days, transportation-wise or personal. 

One life-saving kick at 100% power was exhausting. At this point, I’d had already done roughly 3600 forward snap kicks. 

On the right leg.

I was blasted. My legs were blasted. My knee cap felt like it was going to fly off and my quads burned from accelerating my foot up a few thousand times at full snap. I lived one second at a time.

One kick at a time.

For another hour, we kept kicking. At the time, we didn’t know when the last kick was going to be. There was no pacing. Up to that point, after almost five years of training, I had never done more than maybe ten kicks in a row. Even then, we got to switch legs. Stand up. Shake it out. 

Not today. 

Kick!

Kick! 

Kick!

Over two hours had gone by before the word “Dismissed!” was uttered. 

And that was it. 

My legs immediately turned to jello, but I used every ounce of strength I had left to walk into the broom closet we called a locker room to collapse. I knew the instructors were being debriefed on everyone’s performance that night. Knowing I had to walk past them on the way out, I carefully used this locker room moment to regain my composure, massage my leg, and stretch out.

Over 7000 kicks were executed that night in those two hours, each one demanded to be as deadly as the last. In my mind, I reflected on what I had accomplished. I was tired after 20 minutes. But I went another 100 minutes past that.

I was still alive.

But this was only the first day.

Most people go their entire lives without ever being tested. Without knowing their true potential. Even for a day. Then they die never knowing what they could have been. 

Even though I passed, I never became that instructor that carried on the master’s teachings, but I did carry with me that work ethic and pass that on to anyone willing to listen. After much reflection on whether to stay in martial arts, pursue a military career pre-9/11, or follow my artistic passion, I went with art.

As I exit my artistic career and enter the business world, I think about David Goggin’s “40% Rule.” David Goggins is an ultramarathon runner, former US Navy SEAL, and once a world record holder for the most pull-ups completed in 24 hours. He’s a badass who’s been through physical hell and back. His anecdotal “40% Rule,” which can be found in his recent book Can't Hurt Me: Master Your Mind and Defy the Odds, is that when you think you are completely done, you still have 60% left in the tank.

60 fucking percent.

Instructors Training happened almost 20 years ago, but the lesson I’ve learned is similar to David’s. When you think you’re done, you’re only 40% done. What else can you accomplish if you just keep going?

“Mr. Ko, are you so tired that you think you are going to die?”

These words will always echo in my life and fuel me to push through anything. What can it do for you?

Fuck yeah, it’s Friday!

Photo by Jason Briscoe on Unsplash