My martial arts journey began very quickly. It was all thanks to my older brother, really. A friend's dad knew and taught the ways of taekwondo, amongst other forms, to his kin. Naturally, my family asked if we could join. Soon enough a class of four bloomed to nine. Later, three would fade away from the martial arts scene, but for the next six months I was hooked.

The walls to our school were grey, the floor was cold, and the lights were dim. Due to the fact that my instructor taught his children for protection's sake, we made due with the unfinished basement. The space was small and supplies were limited, but my nine year old self had a blast.

The first competition began with stretching. Who was more limber? Then came technique. Who was the most graceful? After that came speed, power, and energy. Looking back on it now, it's crazy how competitive a class of six kids can be.

Unfortunately this didn't last long.

After about have a year, my instructor had a schedule change at his place of work and our ragtag group of students disbanded. For the following six years the only martial arts in my life lived in movies, video games, and stories.

By the time I was around 14 or so my parents and I heard a bit of interesting news. My old-time instructor of my annoying munchkin years had started up his own studio smack in the middle of town. Of course when I was told of this my first words weren't, "Cool, let's start up and I left off and kick some butt!"

No. My first words were, "Count me out."

At this point in my life, I was hardcore vetoing everything athletic. I hated volleyball, I hated basketball, and you better not have started me on track. Yes, I was what you would call a couch potato. My parents fought me tooth and nail to get me into something sporty and I shot it down as easily as I could jump on my bed and stick my nose in a book.

Truthfully, I'm not sure how they got me into that first class about two years later. Maybe the threat of volleyball loomed too close on the horizon for my liking or the constant hounding finally got me to give in. Nevertheless, I entered that warm room on a cold December afternoon decked out in never worn exercise pants and a bad attitude.

To sum up my first experience, I can use one word: awkward.

Since I was about 15, I was able to join the adult class, which consisted of two other adults-excluding my instructor. They were polite, but they were strangers. Que social anxiety. After introductions came stretching. I had no idea what I was doing, and some of the stretches seemed a little weird to me at that time. After that, it was the typical white belt weirdness which entitles robot like uncertain movements and, wait what am I supposed to do again?

Luckily for me I had retained some of my taekwondo skills from years ago, so I could've looked a lot worse. Still, those hook kicks were atrocious.

Now I've been at the same place for at least two years running. I participate in both adult and family class at my studio and pertain absolutely zero anxiety in doing so. The people at my school quickly became my martial arts family. We help each other, tease each other, and occasionally laugh at one another. Honestly, its hard imaging life without them.

I've gone from one belt to another with them as my support. White, yellow, orange, green, blue, purple, red belt one stripe, red belt two stripes, red belt three stripes, red and black belt, and now there's only one left.

My journey in martial arts started on a whim. My exit was clouded with little kid tears. My reentry came with a special sort of teenage awkwardness. I expect my journey to continue. With my school and family at my back I take the next step to reach the next stage of my taekwondo career.

This month I will be testing for my black belt in taekwondo. This was my story of how I got to where I am today. I strive to go father. Thank you mom and dad for shoving me kicking and screaming into taekwondo again. Thank you Mike, for showing me how fun martial arts can be. Thank you, my martial arts family, for giving me the courage I need to move forward.

Wish me luck!