Being able to land a roundhouse kick...or at least, something that vaguely resembles a roundhouse kick. My last stripe as a white belt...I'm doins a series of kicking rounds trying to kick the heck out of pad after pad. OK, I think I understand what it means to chamber my leg. I'm actually making contact with the pad. I'm making a noise that sounds like a "thud".
I stayed in for a lot more rounds that were required for a white belt. I reached the point where only the bb's were required to still stay in and kick...I'm still whaling away. I'm totally out of breath, I'm sweating from pores I don't even think I knew I had, and I've got this uncontrollable grin on my face because I think I'm finally getting it!
Towards the end of the round, I start kicking a pad that one of my instructors is holding. I'm looking square at the pad. He's softly encouraging me... "good...good..." as he usually does. When the round drew to a close, I looked up...only to find that he had the same huge grin on his face that I have on mine.
Martial arts has a spirit that is so precious. I am right alongside a young man, 2nd dan, that is an absoultely gifted athlete, in pristine physical condition, with showstopping kicks. I'm at the total opposite end of the scale...having finally learned...sort of...how to do a round kick after 6 months of trying. But...he's just as thrilled as I am at me finally being able to land this kick!
The next day was my graduation. My first graduation. I'm clutching the folded yellow belt that was just handed to me. I had just turned 37 years old, and I am holding my first athletic achievement...ever. Migosh, this is huge.