Do you Want it? Come and Earn it...

Before the Grading

I should have guessed the next grading test would be different on many levels from the ones I had done previously, before and during Covid, however when I was asked whether I remembered all my Kihon and had practiced them, my answer was a simple "yes." This was followed by an invitation to attend the next grading. I would be trying for my Blue belt.

In the days prior to the grading, I acted as (my son) Brendan's uke for an element that hadn’t been present in previous gradings that I had seen for the higher belts. The routines to escape from a double choke hold weren’t included in my grading, so I wasn’t really aware how anything was going to differ. The last grading I had done we had no paired elements in that, only basic pad work to demonstrate competence in our Kihon Gata.

The Test Begins

Come grading day I thought it would be tough due to my lack of stamina from COPD and the absence of seriously strenuous exercise prior to returning to the dojo several months earlier. I was told this would be taken into account during the grading, as my examiners were fully aware of my issues.

I'm nothing if not bloody-minded though, and at the start of group Kihon I did my best to fully keep up, only dropping the power but matching the other students’ repetitions.

It took two or three techniques and I was almost gone, anything fast was nearly beyond me. Fortunately, the chief examiner told me to go a bit slower rather than trying to keep up. That way, I just made it through Kihon and Kihon Gata, though I was well aware that much of it was probably more ragged than that of other students.

Kata and Recovery

Fortunately, there was a break at that point as the more advanced students went through their additional Kihon Gata. I only had to demonstrate 1 to 4, while some of the other students going for purple belt had to demonstrate all 10.

By the time I got to the point of having to demonstrate my Kata (Naihanchi Shodan), I was determined to get it right. Unfortunately, I didn’t fully relax into it and there was some stiffness but I did manage to get to the end without any major mishaps. That was it — I was done, for better or worse. Or so I thought.

The Circuit Challenge

The higher grade students went through their choke hold, ground work, and other routines that took up a good while. I thought we were done. Silly me. I should have remembered the last face-to-face grading I did before Covid, where they had started to introduce pad work. To my dismay, rather than ending there, out came the various pad sets for circuit work.

There were to be three circuits to be done, from one end of the hall and back, performing the various Kihon Gata combinations on the pads to the call of the pad holders. This was going to test me to the full — and so it did.

I managed to do the first part of one circuit, which was mostly punching techniques, and started on the back sequence. By halfway down the return leg, I was struggling for breath, and I didn’t quite make it to the end. I stumbled off the mat and ended up in a heap on the floor, with someone kindly bringing my inhaler to help me recover. I was unable to participate in the other two circuits, as they were done before I got my breath back.

The Sparring Surprise

At that point, I felt that I had blown my chance of grading, which was deeply disappointing even though I had tried to the best of my ability.

Then came the last part of the grading — sparring. I had never seen this feature before, and it fully convinced me that I had no chance of passing. There were three rounds of sparring to take place, one minute each, and the first two rounds took place with me simply being an onlooker.

Then came the last twist in the tale. I was told to get my sparring kit on and that if I wanted to grade, I had to complete one minute of light sparring. It was against one of the younger students going for purple belt, who I knew had excellent technique, so I didn’t hold out much hope of doing anything meaningful.

However, having been thrown a lifeline, even if it was a challenge, there was no way I was going to miss out on the chance.

One Minute That Mattered

The next one minute was a blur, but one thing that did stick in my mind was that I was actually happy with — was that in response to a mawashi-geri jodan, I ducked my head, raised my shoulder, and took the kick. One of our black belts might remember why I was happy with that?

I remember my Sensei telling me “20 seconds to go,” “10,” then it was over. Again, I was on the floor needing my inhaler, but at least this time it was with the definite knowledge that I had completely given it my best shot.

The Result

I was still semi-resigned to having probably missed out, but there was this little seed of hope.

Then to the awards. All seated on the mat, awaiting our names to be called one by one.. and WOW, I had passed!! Admittedly it was only a C grade, which meant I had just scraped it from any point of view, but I had made it!!

 To say I was happy was an understatement. If you want it enough, sometimes it is possible to earn it even when you think you don’t have much of a chance. Don’t give up — even if it doesn’t work the first time, stick at it and you might just get there!

Thanks for reading.

REY 30/10/2025

Reflections

 

Now that I’m back in the Dojo, it seems like a good time to reflect on the art I’ve chosen to learn.

I began training in Karate in 2018, initially to support my son — but it quickly became more than just a shared activity. The physical discipline came highly recommended by my doctor, especially given my heart condition and later diagnosis of COPD. But it was the suggested depth of history behind Karate that appealed to the nerd in me.

Training continued steadily until 2020, when COVID hit and separated me from the physical dojo. Online training filled the gap, and unexpectedly opened doors I’d never imagined. I had the privilege of learning from Brian Bates, Paul Broomfield (PJ Broomy), Les Bubka, Jamie Chubb, Tuari Dawson, and Chris Hanson — with seminars by Noah Legel, Christian Wedewardt, Patrick McCarthy, and Andreas Quast. Under normal circumstances, I’d never have accessed such a diverse range of instructors.

In early 2022, as most returned to their dojos, my family and I remained cautious. My wife was also on the “at risk” list, and the idea of enclosed spaces without masks — or crowded trains at rush hour — felt impossible. Returning wasn’t an option.

Still, I didn’t stop. I trained online with PJ, who had become a close friend, and continued learning from Don Came and Russ Smith. My practice became more eclectic, as reflected in my blogs. Then came the crunch: in late 2022, my company announced a return to office work. The thought of commuting triggered what used to be called a “nervous breakdown.”

Thankfully, my employer acknowledged the mental health impact and arranged for me to continue working from home. Emotionally, I turned to an online CBT course — and found surprising parallels with Karate. PJ described it as Shu-Ha-Ri — the process of making the art your own. What follows is a reflection on the physical and historical connections that shaped that journey.

The Physical Journey

Shorin-Ryu — My Chosen Starting Point

When my son began practising Shorin-Ryu Karate, I joined him — encouraged by my doctor to pursue exercise tailored to my heart condition. The style’s core kata, Naihanchi Shodan, became my entry point. I informed the instructors of my limitations and never looked back.

Cardio Vascular Naihanchi — Robey Jenkins

Through a mentoring scheme on Facebook, I worked with Robey Jenkins to adapt Naihanchi Shodan into a slow, Tai Chi–inspired kata. It became a gentle but focused form of cardio, reinforced by insights from my sister, a former Judoka turned Tai Chi practitioner. We refined stretches and punches, improving hip rotation and arm alignment — addressing my “chicken winged” style and supporting posture and conditioning.

Breathing Through Tensho — Noah Legel

Later, I explored breathwork with Noah Legel, using Tensho to manage a lingering chest infection. We focused on:

• Six-second diaphragmatic breathing cycles to build control and rhythm

• Matching breath to movement, following the internal patterns of Tensho, with deliberate exhalation from the diaphragm

I began with short step sequences, gradually building toward fuller kata practice. The result was transformative. I could train without wheezing, and the breathing routine remains part of my practice today.

Mokuso and the Addition of Sanchin — Paul Broomfield

Mokuso — the quiet ritual of clearing the mind before training — resonated deeply with CBT’s emphasis on mindfulness and breath control. I began combining CBT techniques with kata, choosing three:

• Naihanchi Shodan for mindfulness

• Sanchin for tensioning

• Tensho for breathing and relaxation

Each kata took on new meaning. PJ helped refine my Sanchin, adapting it to my physical needs. Tensho was later enhanced by Les Bubka, adding a layer of relaxation. When I shared the full CBT kata sequence with PJ, he saw how each form supported both physical and mental alignment — and even applied the method in his own dojo.

Rooted in History – Scott Mertz

During one of our sessions, PJ noted that my practice was rooted in Karate’s three core kata. I hadn’t set out with that intention, but it prompted me to revisit the history — and I found something striking.

Karate came into being at a landmark meeting on October 25, 1936, attended by Hanashiro Chomo, Kyan Chotoku, Motobu Choki, Miyagi Chojun, Kyoda Juhatsu, Chibana Choshin, Gusukuma Shinpan, Oroku Chotei, and Nakasone Genwa.

The meeting is best known for formally adopting the name Karate (空手), meaning “Empty Hand,” replacing older terms like Toudi, Tode, Tii, and Te. But the discussions went far deeper.

Three kata were presented as foundational: Naihanchi, Sanchin, and Tensho. There was a clear desire to preserve tradition while encouraging innovation — especially to support Karate’s spread through schools and universities. Uniform standards were proposed, and Furukawa Gizaburo even introduced the concept of sports Karate, suggesting that competitive, educational, and traditional strands were all considered from the outset.

The meeting also revealed how secretive Karate practice had been, with some Masters unaware of each other’s methods. It’s a glimpse into the fragmented, often hidden paths that shaped early Karate — and makes you wonder what else was shared behind closed doors.

Thanks to Scott Mertz and his article on Karate Day, on which these observations are based.

Closing Reflections

Looking back, my journey has been shaped by both necessity and curiosity — by health challenges, historical inquiry, and the quiet persistence of practice. What began as a way to support my son and manage my condition has grown into something layered and personal. The three kata — Naihanchi, Sanchin, and Tensho — have become more than forms. They are anchors. They connect me to tradition, to recovery, to breath, and to the resilience that carried me through isolation and fear. And now, back in the Dojo, they continue to guide me — not just in movement, but in meaning.

Beyond the Dojo - Finding Clarity in Practice

 

Several years ago, I was diagnosed with a hereditary heart condition. Rather than give in to it, I chose to take action. At the time, my son was practising Karate, so I asked my doctor whether joining him might be beneficial. His advice was simple: go for it, but let the instructors know about any limitations. I did just that, and I’ve never looked back.

To support others facing similar health challenges, I began blogging about my journey and how Karate was helping me. Then, during a heart stress test, I was diagnosed with COPD — the result of many years spent smoking. I checked with my doctor once again, and he confirmed that Karate could aid with that too. So I continued, not only to improve my wellbeing but also to share quality time with my son. Naturally, I broadened the scope of the blog to include this new aspect.

Then came COVID. With two co-morbidities, I was classified as high-risk and required to work from home throughout the pandemic. Fortunately, my Dojo embraced modern tech and offered online lessons via Zoom — unlike many others. For two years, those sessions became a cornerstone of my home/work balance.

When restrictions lifted and I was expected to return to office work in the City, everything unravelled.

I suffered a breakdown at the prospect (having already been on medication for stress-related anxiety) and experienced suicidal thoughts.

I was prescribed stronger medication and referred for a course of online CBT. The concept of mindfulness in CBT immediately reminded me of "Mokuso" in Karate — the practice of clearing the mind. I worked that into my personal routine, combining awareness, controlled breathing, and the tension–release cycle. I documented it all in my blog, hoping it might help someone else, just as it helped me.

That shift got me over the mental hump, and I was offered a work-from-home role with my company. My condition was acknowledged as bordering on a disability by both my doctor and occupational health. Though my fear of travel and meeting strangers remains, Karate has remained a steady anchor.

When I was made redundant, I leaned hard on my Karate routine — especially to clear my head and decide on next steps. Ironically, I’ve always been willing (albeit uncomfortable) to travel familiar routes at off-peak times when needed.

In February, while contesting the redundancy, my 79-year-old sister in Sussex needed help. I took a train to see her — but at Upminster, a gang of suited teenagers boarded and surrounded my table. I nearly panicked. Yet thanks to Mokuso and CBT, I kept my composure. Controlled breathing got me through as they loudly bragged about assaults and unpaid gambling debts.

A week after returning from Sussex, I caught COVID — vindicating my fears about travel and exposure. Unfortunately, so did the rest of my family. 😞

That said, it passed within a week. I had the mildest symptoms thanks to being fully vaccinated. Now, the fear of COVID has eased for all of us, and we can venture out again. My fear of travel and strangers persists — but what’s top of the agenda? Returning to the Dojo with my now 18-year-old son, reconnecting with old friends, and rediscovering the life we once knew.

I’ve also resolved to blog consistently again — sharing how a strong, healthy focus can steady the mind and support you through the hardest of times.

Thank you for reading this far.

REY
16-07-2025