The Master

Last night, I had the privilege of losing the most one-sided match in the history of Taekwon-do.

It’s fall, and things are ramping up in the dojang (TKD studio). We have a number of people hoping to test for a Black Belt in December, me included, and tournaments are coming up soon. Master Arden is ratcheting up the intensity, and we leave with our doboks sopping with sweat.

We started with a typical warm up of bear crawls, running, squats, and push ups, and then we got into patterns for about 15 minutes. That gets the heart pumping, but it’s nothing compared to sparring. When Master Arden says, “Go put your sparring gear on,” you can see most of the class sneak a quick look at the clock on the wall. If there’s 20-25 minutes left in the class, you know you’ll be putting a tarp over the driver’s seat before you climb into the car.

There’s nothing quite like combat sports for cardio exertion. I don’t care who your opponent is—short, tall, young, old—doesn’t matter. When you’re in the advanced classes, every single person has been trained to throw punches and kicks at your midsection and head. And though the intention is to make contact and retract the blow to not damage your partner, we’ve also been trained in power-breaking, an activity where you bust as many boards as possible with a kick or punch.

There’s always the chance that right when you let your guard down, your opponent’s wires will get crossed, and you’ll catch a shot that would snap a plank. This is even more likely at my current skill level. On the cusp of being a Black Belt, you have all the training for brutal attacks, but you’re likely not experienced enough to have exemplary control. The Red Belt with a black stripe that I wear to class is intended as a constant reminder of that.

There are five colored belts prior to the Black Belt in International Taekwon-do Federation: White, Yellow, Green, Blue, and Red. Each color has a symbolic meaning behind it. Red symbolizes danger, but it’s not just a signal to others, it’s a reminder to oneself that you now have ability that you must govern carefully.

When you’re sparring with a Red Belt, you’re always kind of hoping they’re keeping that in mind as they start firing away. You’re simultaneously doing some high-level problem solving: How do I stay out of this person’s strike zone? How do I get past their guard to land my own shots? Incoming! Block or dodge? The mental focus added to the physical exertion is exhausting.

It’s also exhilarating.

Last night, Master Arden called for sparring gear at about 22 minutes to the hour, so we were going to go at least four or five rounds. It’s great training for tournaments because there’s very little rest between those matches. I once fought in my final match less than a minute after I won the bout that let me advance.

I rotated through some interesting opponents last night, mostly ones who are getting ready to test for Black Belts as well. A couple were high school-aged which is interesting. I have to scale back the contact significantly. Obviously, I wouldn’t hit a high school kid the way I’d spar with Agent Smith. But at the same time, they are wicked fast and 100% teeing off on me. I sneak in a few light taps, but it’s great practice for blocking quick (and surprisingly heavy) blows to the head and midsection.

When Master Arden called for the final rotation, I was set up to square off with someone who started at Apollo TKD on the same day I did, another parent joining up with the kids just like me. But sometimes people born in the 1900s need a respite, and my would-be opponent bowed out of the final round, and Master Arden came bouncing in.

He didn’t put on any sparring gear, he just stood opposite of me as he was telling the class to bow, put up their guards, and fight. And when I say he came bouncing in, I mean that he rolled his shoulders, popped up on the balls of his feet, and threw a couple punches at the air to let me know that he wasn’t just standing in. He was there to give me a run for my money. And he did.

Here, I will take a moment to elaborate on why he is called Master Arden. Not only does he have years of experience as a world competitor, and a sterling reputation in the international community of the sport, he is a 7^th Degree Black Belt (7^th Dan as it’s called in TKD). Once you are a 2^nd Degree Black Belt, you must be in full time training for two years to test for 3^rd Degree, then three more years for 4^th, and so on. Meaning, you must be in full training for just over 20 years after you reach your first Black Belt to get to the 7^th Degree, where you attain the title, Master. Now, Master Arden didn’t actually test every time he had the opportunity. He’s been in continuous training for nearly 40 years, and he could be a Grand Master 9^th Degree by now if he had been actively testing. The man has put in some time.

That said, even though his body language sent the clarion message, Brace yourself, Schnelly, I knew that I was perfectly safe. In stark contrast to all my red belted amigos, Master Arden can hit you exactly where and when he wants to, but he can also hit you with control that defies reason. If we’re standing at attention, he can spin on a dime, strike out with a turning kick that has the power to snap a two-by-four, yet retract it in the last fraction of a second so that it feels like your buddy gave you a friendly how-you-doin’ punch the shoulder. It has to be seen to be believed.

I was still pretty amped up though. It truly gives one pause to square off with someone with that kind of prowess. There’s a verbal command he gives that puts us in our guard, and then another to start throwing hands. He gave the on-guard command, and I jumped in and hit him twice before realizing we hadn’t been given the command to start. He stood there smiling and took the shots, and I backed off sheepishly. Then he called si jak (begin), and it was on.

He moves with equivalent speed to the teenagers and young adults, rather unnerving since he’s a few years older than me, but it’s a different kind of speed. While the youths are often a chaotic flurry, he’s purposeful, strategic, and precise. He’s watching how you react to his movement, noting it, filing it away for later use. And I’ve never seen someone so elusive. He’s continually moving in and out and circling unpredictably. You can’t attack him where he is because he won’t be there anymore when the blow lands.

It's not like I didn’t touch him. I got a few scoring hits, but as he always tells us, everyone gets hit in every match. The key is giving more than you get, and he did. I’d conservatively estimate he scored seven or eight points to each of mine. I’d move into range for a kick and feel the staccato taps: chest, head, chest, on my way in, head, head, stomach, on my way out.

He was in such firm control of the match that he was able to adjust his attacks to account for his lack of sparring gear, keeping his fists clenched while he was in his guard or landing a body shot, yet when he struck my head, he opened his fists for a palm smack.

In one exchange, he schooled me in a tactic that he teaches us all the time, but I’ve clearly yet to internalize. He’s always telling us to try something on our opponent twice, and if we see the same reaction, try the maneuver a third time, but anticipate what they are about to do and exploit it. I know it’s not rocket science, but it’s not easy to track in the heat of the moment.

Apparently, I was blocking and throwing a jab every time he used a hook kick. A hook kick is kind of a funny move to anyone who doesn’t do martial arts. Everybody has probably instinctually given a turning kick to a sibling or maybe some kid on the playground. It’s the same action as kicking a soccer ball, only you lean back and turn to the side a little so that your foot comes at them from the side. Your knee starts bent, and you’re straightening it to kick.

A hook kick is the opposite action. Your leg starts straight, and you bend the knee to kick. So if you were standing on one leg, turned to the side so that your raised leg is straight out and your foot is parallel to the horizon, you sweep your heel sideways at your opponent, leveraging your hip and bending your knee in the action. It sounds awkward, but once mastered, a guy could continuously kick a boxing speed bag back and forth with a turning kick and hook kick repeated over and over.

Master Arden fed me two hook kicks at the chest in a row. I blocked and jabbed. When he hooked a third time, it was a feint. He whipped his leg over my extended jabbing arm and caught me in the ribs just under the armpit with a turning kick. It was so textbook that I shook my head ruefully while we were sparring before going on to the next attempt.

Usually, when we have uneven numbers for sparring in class, the odd man out goes and practices combinations on a punching dummy. I was grateful to have the chance to spar with the Master, and I told him so after class, thanking him for the match. It wasn’t many years ago that he was standing on the podium in the world championship of Taekwon-do, so it’s a fantastic opportunity to learn and grow as a fighter. And because of his stellar control, it’s not even a very costly lesson. It’s like paintball: yeah, you’re gonna get stung, but you ain’t gonna get dead.

And no matter what your hobby or passion is, I’m sure you recognize how awesome it is to get the chance to go up against someone who’s at such a high level. I believe he finished with bronze in his last competition. That’s bronze in THE WHOLE WORLD, an achievement he attained while fighting on a strained plantar fascia.

Imagine you’re a classic rock fan at a Zeppelin concert, and they spot you in the crowd and say, “Wanna come do Stairway with us?” Or you’re an avid golfer, and Tiger, Mickelson, and Daly come walking out of the clubhouse. Daly butts out a dart and says, “Hey, man, we need a fourth.” Or you see Morgan Freeman sitting on a park bench and he says, “Excuse me. I need someone to run this scene with me. May I have a moment of your time?”

Sure, Taekwon-do experts don’t enjoy household name recognition, but if they did, I wouldn’t need to tell you who Master Grant Arden of Apollo Taekwon-do is. You’d know.

If you’ve read any of my other stories on this website, you know that the common thread is adventure. I have crazy encounters with cougars, bears, and moose, and I have to say that jumping in the ring with a world-class TKD Master is right up there in terms of thrills and excitement.

I’ve said it before, if you happen to live in the Calgary area, and you find these stories from the dojang at all intriguing, you should come to a class. You’d never regret it. One of the requirements for Black Belt testing is a short essay about what TKD means to you. And I’ll tell ya… it gets into you. It is a discipline that is a balm to the mind and a boon to the body. At the risk of sounding like a paid endorser (I am not), I’ll even make it easy for you: For improved mental and physical health just click APOLLO TKD.