I’ve left and returned to taekwondo three times in my life:
Once as a pre-teen when other interests eclipsed taekwondo. I returned at age thirty-three as a desperate wreck looking for a fresh start.
Once as a jaded black belt leaving a toxic environment. I returned a few months later to a new and more positively focused dojang.
Once as a severely injured athlete knocked off my feet. I’m now returning after a year-and-a-half of surgeries, rehab, and long recovery.
It’s weird and exciting at the same time.
As stated in a previous post, I suffered an ACL tear, and have spent the last eighteen months in surgery suites, physical therapy clinics, doctor’s exam rooms, and contraptions I use at home to strengthen and straighten my leg. In January of 2022, I finally, tentatively took my first steps, slides, and kicks on the mat of my dojang.
I began private taekwondo lessons with my dojang’s owner and head coach. She’s very organized and had mapped out a plan to work on my technique, along with balance, strength, and agility. She also consulted with medical experts to ensure we were both safely managing an injury that takes years to fully heal. I’ve done my part by being honest with both of us about what doesn’t hurt, what does, where I can push myself, and where I need to be cautious. We’ve both been surprised at how quickly I seem to have re-adapted to taekwondo movements.
It’s not so much a restart as it is a re-awakening.
I knew I would feel awkward at first, not only because my right leg is still not 100% healed, but also because I’m overall out of shape and out of practice. What I didn’t expect was the strange and wonderful re-awakening of my martial arts brain.
This re-awakening started about two weeks prior over the Christmas holidays. My dad had hung up a bag for me at their home. I’d used it before with my partner, but this time I was on my own: just me, my precarious right knee, and my dusty but eager black belt brain. I was expecting to have a short, lackluster workout, but I surprised myself with an hour of skills and drills (and a few breaks to do forms in the yard). I experimented with speed and distance. I thought about application in the sparring ring. I played. And for moving around on an uneven surface, my right leg held up surprisingly well.
In my private lessons I’ve mostly practiced kicking drills and forms. We’re gently building up my speed and strength. We’re focusing on precision such as hand positions and stances. She challenges me on the tiniest details—and I’m here for it. I’m hungry for it. I didn’t realize how much I missed and needed taekwondo until I started moving around in the dojang. I’ve never stopped doing forms at home, and of course there’s the kicking bag at my parents’ house, but running through forms in the living room while keeping an eye on my work email is very different than doing Koryo in my belt and uniform with a seasoned coach by my side.
I’ve spent the last year and a half sunken into my Clark Kent persona and am dying to be Superman again.
Not only am I getting back into fighting shape; more importantly, I’m re-gaining my fighting spirit and a community I’d nearly lost for eighteen months. 2020 was hard, and 2021 was not much better. My physical and mental health were at some of the lowest points they’ve ever been in my life. Not being able to fully practice taekwondo definitely impacted how I felt about myself and my life. My personal relationship stayed strong throughout the rough patches, and my writing career was taking seed, but not much else was happening. Work was a stressful drag, my knee was filled with angry, painful scar tissue, and I suffered an eating disorder relapse. Taekwondo wouldn’t have solved those problems, but life would have sucked less.
On the other hand, not being able to practice taekwondo forced me to reflect quite a bit and focus on what was important at the time: releasing a book, recovering from knee surgery, and recovering from a mental health crisis. I was forced to break free of whatever mental dependence I had on my sport. I was forced to form an identity that included martial arts but wasn’t solely defined by it. My priorities around my training are different now. Interestingly enough, being broken in body and spirit helped me come back to taekwondo as a more whole person.
I’m ready to be a new and different kind of black belt. I can’t wait to see what’s in store.
Melanie has worked in the healthcare industry since 2004 and lives in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex.
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I’m so happy you’re finding your way back after your injury. There’s not much worse than being denied an activity you love due to disability, whether temporary or otherwise. I believe in you and am rooting for you!