Karate Was Just Something I Did. Now It's Who I Am.

 

Matsue Sensei teaching at Seibukan (October 2017)

When I first got my black belt, I remember the first few times training as a newly graded black belt. My karate was good — very good, actually — just like it had been throughout my training days and kyu grades. During those early black belt days, my kata looked sharp, my technique was clean, my speed and power were solid — although there are always many things and small details to be learned that can make the difference between night and day.

But now, when I look back… I realise how little I actually knew back then.

Especially when most people get their black belts within 3–5 years — I didn’t get mine for 9. I trained under Alan Campbell Sensei and Wendy Sensei, and more than anything, it was never about doing things quickly or following the usual timeline. It was only ever about the karate. That was the focus.

I never cared how long it would take to become a black belt — I was there for one purpose and one reason only: to train. Sure, I was proud of every new belt I earned, but the even bigger reward was someone telling me my karate was good — and realising it myself.

Back then, even as a newly graded black belt, I was just doing what I had always done: practicing what I was taught, to the very best of my ability. I trained hard — and I carried on training hard. I threw punches, kicks, blocks. I sparred, drilled kata, kihon, conditioning. I did it all.

But now, years later, after being a black belt for some time, I can see just how much I’ve changed and grown. You keep practicing, and eventually, you really experience the meaning of “never-ending learning.” You begin to think more deeply. You start to understand things — movement, concepts, rhythm, timing — more clearly. Especially as you grow up and get older.

I’ve mentioned in a previous post how I always wanted to one day punch like my Sensei — sharp, fast, powerful, with that loud snap. That understanding of kime and controlled movement. When I was younger, I trained twice a week in the dojo, did exercises at home every day, and went to school five days a week. That was life.

Wake up, shower, breakfast. Go to school, be active, do wild things, come home, snack and green tea, go to karate, come back, dinner, sleep. Repeat.

I didn’t think too deeply about karate back then. Maybe I didn’t have a deep passion for it yet. I just remember turning up, training hard, and going home — because I had to. I was placed into a karate club at age 10 by my mum. It was never a question of whether I wanted to — it was simply what I did. It was part of life, quietly in the background.

Now, at 22, karate isn’t just something I do a few times a week. It’s the main thing I think about. Not once or twice a week, but every day. All the time.

Without karate, I don’t know who I’d be, or how different my life would have been — especially having grown up in Japanese tradition, values, and the culture of discipline and respect.

Karate makes you strong — especially when you start young. But more than that, it shapes you. It leads you to make decisions that improve yourself. (Something Funakoshi Gichin talks about — how karate is a way of life that extends beyond technique.) It’s always stuck with me.

For me, I eventually realised how karate had physically conditioned my body — through all those years of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, burpees, core work, kihon, deep long stances. That realisation made me think: “Okay. This is good. This is important. My body is well trained. But how can I get even better?”

That’s what led me to start eating more, training harder at home, learning about diet and nutrition. I wanted to get bigger, stronger, and less of a bag of bones! At 16, I thought: “If I’m eating all these chocolate oaties and big meals while trying to train seriously, surely that’s not ideal.”

That’s when I discovered green tea. I read about its benefits and started using it to balance out the rest of my diet — especially sugar. I've had green tea every single day for the past seven years — and I don't plan to stop.

Around the same time, I built a nightly routine that I still remember clearly. After doing 40 reps each of pushups, sit-ups, and squats — just enough to get a good burn in without overtraining — I’d make myself a hot chocolate with milk. It wasn’t too long or too short of a session, just the right amount to work, refuel, and still get to bed early.

And I’d always go to sleep on my back — yes, my back. A position most people call psychopath behaviour, but to me it felt natural, normal, even comfortable. I wanted to allow my body to grow and recover as well as possible. Back flat, hands resting on my chest, duvet pulled over. Especially as I saw my body getting stronger and more defined, that sleep position just felt right. — I felt like a tank as my body and muscles got bigger.

This is what I call growth — learning things, keeping them with you, and letting them shape who you are for life.

JKS Top Valley

When My Body Turns Against Me

 

Hi, just wanted to share something I’ve been dealing with.

I’ve been living with unexplained episodes of whole-body inflammation for years. It comes with fevers, intense headaches, stomach pain, and deep weakness — along with joint pain and crushing fatigue that sometimes makes even standing difficult, like my whole body is burning and I just have to survive through it. Sometimes it hits out of nowhere; other times it happens after physical activity, like karate. I can usually feel it coming — like something inside me suddenly switches.

Sometimes the pain builds slowly overnight, and I end up shivering uncontrollably even when it’s not cold. Paracetamol helps a bit with the fever and headache, but only for a short time. I started taking ibuprofen too — it helped at first, but one day I had a full allergic reaction: hives, breathing issues. That option was taken away fast.

It’s not constant — but lately, it’s been happening more often, almost weekly. That said, there are days where I feel totally fine — like myself again. I try to make the most of those, training hard, staying active, and trying to enjoy life while I can. But it's hard not knowing when it might flip again. When it does, I'm often bedridden — just waiting it out until I feel okay again. And when it flares up, it’s absolute hell. I’ve genuinely had moments where the pain and exhaustion were so overwhelming I didn’t want to be alive anymore. A couple of times, my CRP blood marker (which shows inflammation) was at 285 — a level that usually points to something like sepsis. But no actual infection was ever found.

I’ve had CT scans, ultrasounds, loads of blood work. Sometimes there are signs of urinary infections, but nothing consistent, and urology couldn’t find a clear cause. Right now, it’s looking like some kind of auto-inflammatory syndrome — where the immune system overreacts or misfires even when there’s no real infection. I’m now under an immunologist, and things are still being explored.

I've just been prescribed Colchicine — a medication used for gout and auto-inflammatory conditions. It’s derived from a toxic plant (the autumn crocus), and it can be dangerous in high doses, but in controlled amounts like mine (500 micrograms daily), it helps calm the immune system. It’s meant to reduce the frequency or severity of these flare-ups.

So yeah — it’s an invisible thing, but it massively affects my life. I try to push through it quietly, but sometimes it just wipes me out. That’s why there are days I’m not myself, or I miss deadlines, or can’t show up the way I want to. It’s not laziness or poor planning — it’s surviving my own body.

Right now, I'm training hard for my next Dan grading in karate — pushing myself carefully when I can, and holding on to the parts of me that still feel strong.

Thanks for reading.