Love...--Makena

 

    For the past 10 years of my life at age 15, the Fourth of July did not mean fireworks or barbeques or parades. For me, it could be two things; a shiny medal or tears of defeat. But for a specific July 4th in 2019, it meant something completely different to me. If I could go back in time and stop five-year-old me from going into that studio, if I could tell her to run away, to choose something else, I would.
Taekwondo was a sport introduced to me after I ran into my mothers arms begging her to take me out of the “spinny” class (aka ballet). My parents decided to enroll me into a class that could keep me busy, but also teach me how to defend myself. For a month I did a half hour class for Knockout Martial Arts, and I absolutely loved it. And then my dream came true when the coach's daughter came up to my parents and I advertising the “Open House” tournament at the studio. I was ecstatic, I wanted to get into the ring and see what taekwondo was really like. My dad was all for the idea of me trying out the tournament, but my mom was reluctant at the fact that her five year old daughter was about to go into a violent fight match with little experience. But my dad and I convinced her. So on a hot sunny Saturday, I walked into a makeshift martial arts studio that was once a warehouse, and I couldn’t be more happy. I don’t recall how I did, but I do know that I wanted more.
    The next nine years were a mix of some of the best and worst days of my life. I had finally found my calling, I was with great teammates, an amazing coach, and I was in a sport that I loved, but most of all, I was good at it. In that span of nine years, I had spent every Fourth of July in some part of the country fighting for the title of “National Champion”. Winning that title three times definitely contributed to some of my “best” days, of course. And also maybe, becoming a third degree black belt. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was proud of myself. I was becoming the person I had worked so hard for.
    But all great things come to an end. And despite the amount of love I had for taekwondo, I knew that what I was doing was wrong. At age 8 taekwondo changed, I didn’t realize it yet, but it was a change that still affects me to this day. For those of you who don’t know, competitive fighting in taekwondo involves weight categories. You would fight other competitors around the same age within a 7-8 pound weight category. Now at first, this was not a problem for me. At 8 to 10 years old my metabolism was lightning fast and I didn’t have a care in the world for what I ate. Then one day I was told I couldn’t eat my PBJ because it was “too heavy” and this continued with all sorts of food that would involve me gaining weight. During the summer I would only eat tuna and 6 crackers for lunch, and my 5pm dinner would be only grilled chicken. In between and after these meals, I was practicing. This became an everyday agenda, this became my normal routine. Despite all of this, I still loved the thrill, the challenge, the fight. I grew up in that studio, surrounded by people my age, younger, and older than me all going through the same thing. We would compare our weight every single day. “How much more do you have to lose?” became our “Hey, how are you today?”
    The year that I remember most vividly is my last year when I realized my parents love the sport more than I loved it. My parents' obsession with the sport drove me to realize that I stopped fighting in the competitions because I wanted to, but because they wanted me to. I watched my teammates, my friends, finally get the courage to confront their parents and leave the sport. I couldn’t do that. It seemed like I was watching myself hurt my own body so that I could please my parents for a sport that they love. For my final tournament, I remember re-breaking a finger that I had previously broken due to not receiving the proper treatment because I “wouldn’t be able to fight”. Only then did I realize at that moment that I had fallen out of love. Taekwondo was my first love, and yet, years later I am still learning what love is. Love can be the most painful thing, but if you learn how to accept and how to grow, then it can be the most beautiful experience anyone can (and will) have.