John Swanagon's Blog

As a kid, I played the usual sports that kids do like soccer, baseball and football. As with many parents who champion physical fitness, my parents were no exception. I was never allowed to sit at home during the day. I was always encouraged to be outside and do something physical like ride my bike, run, or engage in games with my friends.

All of that was taken to another level twenty-two years  ago when my parents enrolled me in Taekwondo. Ironically, the lessons were intended for my brother, David, who wanted to be a “ninja”. I had watched his first lessons in awe and convinced my parents to let me do it too; beginning a journey that would be, unbeknownst to me at the time, lifelong.

In about a month, I will be testing for my fifth degree black belt in São Paulo, Brazil. The test, like the four others before it, is governed by the Kukkiwon and its rules and regulations for promotion tests. Each rank, per Article 8,  has its own set of requirements and minimum training requirements. Although the minimums must be observed, there have always been significantly higher standards imposed by my instructors. Although each test is unique, they have all been challenging, both physically and mentally.

Taekwondo, unlike sports like baseball, is a sport and an art. There are physical aspects to be sure, but so much of Taekwondo is mental. Throughout my experiences in Taekwondo, values like integrity, courage, courtesy, self control, and perseverance were instilled in me. I also learned the art of Zen and trained with members of the Korean Army. I was taught to discover who I was and to embrace and accept it. My instructors demanded I be a leader, not a follower, and they always knew how to take me to my breaking point and back to help me grow my technical prowess, but more importantly, my character.

Everything in Taekwondo has been hard for me. As a kid, I was taller than most. (It is ironic because practically everyone is taller than me than now.) I had trouble controlling my body and thus everything took me a lot longer to learn than everyone else. It was especially tough to watch my brother learn something so easily and then, moments later, execute it beautifully. Yet, I never gave up, even though there were times I wanted to. In 1993, I was badly injured during practice. When I recovered, I wanted to give up when I could no longer spin, twirl, and jump like I used to. To this day, I continue to endure physical pain as a result of the injuries sustained that day. But I was trained to never give up, and I never have. I may not have been able to do what I used to, but I was still formidable. Instead of giving up, I just adapted.

Today, there is not an aspect of life that has not been affected by Taekwondo. I have learned to take calculated risks as a way of life, to take the harder path even when presented with an easier one, to continue to try even when everyone else has given up, to help others even if it costs me personally, to have the courage to stand up to evil, to treat others with courtesy, dignity, and respect, and to be a leader, not a follower. I can say without a doubt that the sum total of my accomplishments have been a direct result of what I have learned and what I continue to learn in Taekwondo. My instructors would be the first to say that my journey is just beginning and that it will never be complete. Twenty-two years later, I’m just beginning to understand that. I will continue my journey and I encourage others to embark and/or continue their own. Each of us has their own unique path and it is up to ourselves to find and forge through it. The only limits are self-imposed ones. At the end of the day, it is who we are, who we have become, and what we have done for others that matter.