I know that I should not have felt terrible. After all, 35 was more than a respectable number. If some of my classmates could do more than 50, I would have been shocked. But regardless of what anyone else could do, I had to get up to 75. I now understood why I could never seem to stick with a team sport; I never stuck around long enough to see myself improve. This was going to be different.
            Akin to most parents, my mother and father often worried about me. This was partially due to the fact that they both worked full-time and rarely got to see me. The fact that I only had a handful of friends also may have had something to do with it. They encouraged me to play a sport, thinking it would jumpstart my seeming lack of a proper social life. After several failed attempts with both soccer and baseball, my parents decided to suddenly enroll me in a karate class. I do not know if they thought I needed to defend myself from potential bullies, or if they simply could think of no other outlet for me.
            Fast forward five years and hundreds of hours of practice and I had attained the second highest achievement possible in karate, one stage away from the iconic black belt. The wide range of self-defense moves that I had learned were merely a secondary benefit. More importantly, I had met really great people who motivate me still to this day, and the physical strengths I had gained were matched by the mental strides I had made. I learned to be motivated by my own shortcomings, rather than become angry over them. In the past, in the not-so-rare event that I dropped a fly ball playing in the outfield, I would be so angry that I lowered the spirits of not only myself, but all of my teammates as well. With karate, I learned to overcome the physical restraints that once held me back; I felt invincible. However, after all this time I still had yet to face my greatest challenge.
            Training for my black belt was one of the hardest struggles I had ever faced. The comfort of testing for it in my own gym, as I had done for all of the previous belts, was not an option. Travelling more than two hours away to New York, I had to take this last test at a different site where hundreds of hopefuls just like me congregate from all over the northeast. The men’s prerequisite was to do 75 consecutive pushups. I also was required to do 60 sit-ups in under a minute. My first attempt to see how many pushups I could do resulted in less than half that amount: 35. This was not a time for explanations or excuses. I stepped up my regular schedule of three hours of karate per week to eight, and on top of that spent several additional hours per week at home practicing my kicks, punches, and of course pushups. Within three months I had brought that feeble number of 35 up to a respectable 80. It was truly a remarkable feeling to notice such a drastic improvement.
            Today I proudly own a first-degree black belt, although I no longer take formal lessons. Karate has, however, set the foundation for my love of physical fitness; lifting is now my favorite hobby, and one of the most practical hobbies to have. I work out four hours per week minimum and I constantly push myself to be better than I was the day before. I plan to attend and participate in my first powerlifting competition this coming May. While the black belt is nice to have as a memory, it is the journey to achieve it that is truly memorable. By applying the self-discipline and determination that I learned through karate, I know that I can achieve anything with the proper mindset, and I know that I can be successful in college by applying the same principals that I used to obtain my karate goals.