An unexpected lesson from failure

My Test

It’s my first intermittent promotion test since earning my black belt. I’ve been practicing hard for it for some time. For this test I have to perform Koryo, a poomsae (form) I enjoy doing and have practiced a lot. I know all the moves and I have been working weekly with my instructor in a private class trying to perfect it.

Arriving early at the school that Friday night allows me to began stretching out before the test. This time I noticed a new Master was in the dojang. Naturally I was curious as to who he is. There was a lot of motion around me but I kept glancing over at him.

And that’s when the nerves start to come in to play.

One of the promises I made myself when I began writing about my Taekwondo journey was that I would not just write about the victories I have had. You know, like social media, where people only post the highlights of their lives, it can inadvertently lead readers to believe in a shiny lie. With that in mind, let’s move onto my epic failure.

My Performance

When the test began, Grand-master Kim introduced Master Joon as his longtime friend who had just flown in from South Korea that day. As soon as I heard that I started to get nervous. I really didn’t want to screw up in front of a visiting Master.

As student after student tested I sat there with my nerves slowly getting on edge even as my body stiffened up from sitting on the floor. When my name was finally called, I was not focused on Koryo at all. I had only one thought in my mind, “I need to nail this”. As I began I could feel my legs stiffening, causing my kicks and stances to become sloppy. Here I was, with my nice new black belt tied around my waist and I was performing this poomsae as if I hadn’t practiced it at all. The final crescendo of my performance was a screw-up as my arms swung around wildly as if I were desperately hoping muscle memory would take me through.

I returned to my starting position and just stood there as Master Kim asked me to perform Koryo a second time. This time I didn’t make the same mistake, but I could feel how sloppy the poomsae was. Feet landed in the wrong way, arms were not correctly positioned. I imagined Master Ko, my instructor, who spent so much time teaching and refining me, just cringing inside.

I was so angry with myself and embarrassed, that I barely looked at anyone. At the end of the test Master Joon spoke to us, relaying funny stories about him and Master Kim, but my mind just wanted to get out of there.

On the way home I pulled up to a Taco Bell to pick up a quick dinner. The kid serving the food was Asian and in my mind he looked at me as he was saying, “Yeah, I’ll give you the burrito but, man, your Koryo SUCKED!” I got home, showered and just sat there, miserable, as my performance ran through my mind, over and over, getting worse and worse. As you may have noticed, as a writer I have an overactive imagination. It’s great for coming up with stories and interesting characters, but times like this it can really get the best of me.

I saw myself banished from the school forever as I walked away, barefoot in the snow, turning back a few times only to see Master Ko pointing with a finger that clearly said, “GO, and to us never return!”.

Then I talked to my pragmatic wife and she snapped me out of my sulking. She’s good like that.

When I stepped out of my self-made banishment I decided to do what I have learned to do many times. Examine the failure and learn from it.

So what did I learn?

You may be expecting me to say, “don’t be nervous next time” or “realize you are only doing this for you and don’t worry about those who are watching.” While those thoughts did enter my mind, what I truly learned was this.

I did not know Koryo well at all, that is the painful truth.

See it’s easy to perform well by myself in my home dojang. Or in practice with Master Ko as he hands out encouragements as freely as correction. But to perform under pressure, that is the true test of how well you know something. Koryo didn’t flow out of me naturally for the simple reason that I have much more work to do on it. I need to practice harder, that is the truth I would not have seen without my epic failure.

To me, that is the value of the testing times now. Not just to progress in rank, but to have the opportunity to see just how well I know something. To push this envelope a little further, and because I’m a glutton for this kind of thing, I have decided to enter a tournament this April. I promise to write about that experience as well, no matter the outcome. Ugh, I’m committed now!

After all, there are few things like practicing a martial art that offer so much in the way of self-reflection and personal development. Sometimes we actually learn more from failure than we do from success.

That’s why I love it, that’s why it’s worth it.

About David Ianetta 9 Articles
David Ianetta is a 3rd Dan Taekwondo Blackbelt. At age 50 David returned to Korean Martial arts after a hiatus of over 35 years. He is the author of “From the Desk to the Dojang - A 50-year-old’s Taekwondo Journey” available on Amazon.com.

4 Comments

  1. Bruce Lee films Chuck Noris MA Magazines Tv so was taught authentically and have come to realize that a belt is only to hold my pants up. What matters is the inner spiritual refinement.
    February 24, 2019 at 6:33 pm

    I am also a second Dan in TKD I was a soldier and took 18 yrs to achieve a Dan grade due to moving from country to country and MA politics. I reverted to white belt many times biggest drop was from Red belt black tags to white. What keeps TKD and MAs alive is the Kata Hungi Pomse because in this you are your opponent. The practice of Hungi is likened to Moving Zen or Chi. When you perform a pomse no matter where you are all that you should be aware of is Time Space You and the present moment, this is a very personal thing, until you start and then finish without knowing the inbetween you do not know or benefit from Hungi Pomse remember just you being present in the moment every step you take you step into the moment. Also I notice you are in mixed Do Bak only white is worn as white symbolise serenity and is usually also the colour worn at Asian funerals because of this. I’m 63yrs old took my first grade in 1968 in Wado Ryu Kara Te Do at that time there was no

  2. Thank you again for sharing! I found when learning a new form, once I feel i know it, I start changing my starting orientation (i.e. face the back, 45 degree angle) or do it blindfolded. This little change of orientation helps me turn my focus inward once I have the basics down. Not sure if it will help but it helps me!

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