Fatherhood, nursing and martial arts define my life.  Home is a wife and two kids, Mady and Tristan, results of me and my wife’s “sexcursions”…uh, I mean loooove.  Okay "ewww!", but that’s what happens, penis plus vagina equals more humans.  They are equal parts sources of love and joy in my life, and stress and irritation.  I’ve managed to be able to put diapers on them, by making a living changing diapers.  I am a registered nurse.  Yes…there is more to nursing than changing diapers, but my goodness I do change a god awful lot of diapers!  (More than any manly man should ever have to).   I’m also a “recovering” couch potato…and if you ever saw me at my heaviest you wouldn’t think I had ever recovered from anything but a Hostess’ Zingers driven food coma. (mmmm…Zingers…and an ice cold cup ‘o milk! Shut up!).  At 33yrs old, 5’9” weighing a very plump and jiggly 2851bs, man boobs and all I attended my very first martial arts class.  Most of my time as a dad and in my career as a nurse I have to be in touch with my softer, more “man gentle” side.  After all I’m the guy taking care of grandma when she’s sick in the hospital.  But the Ying to my Yang was off balance.  Beyond out of shape, I also needed some “man time” for myself, and though it sounds a bit cliché I thank my kids for inspiring me to change and begin my journey to becoming a Black Belt.
     My daughter is now all of 8yrs old.  Out of the blue when she was about 3yrs old she came up with her own little karate jingle.  It went something like this,  “bing, bing, bing, I can do ka-raw-tee!…you can ask my mommy…bing, bing, bing!”  Maybe it doesn’t sound cute to you, but at 3 my little girl oozed cuteness.  It remained quite cute and charming through the first five thousand times she sang and danced her little jingle, and sometimes it would be followed by, “…Daddy, when are you going to sign me up for Kaaaa-raaw-tee?”  Two years later, as sick of hearing that jingle as anyone with ears would be, I relented and we took a “Mady and Daddy” trip to what is now our second home, the Power of One Karate studio in Long Beach, CA.  There we met, for the very first time, “Mrs. V” who took Mady through an assortment of what I assume were Karate “tests”.  She did well.  She loved it!  Dad signed her up, laid down a cool chunk of change and everyone lived happily ever after.  Uh…no.  

     Dressed in black gi, wrapped together by her white karate belt, Mady looked adorable.  With her scrunched up little mean face, in horse stance she’d punch at the air upon the instructor’s command and belted out a high pitched ki-ai.  Her first year at the Power of One (Po1) studio there was a very noticeable improvement in her confidence.  Most importantly, she was having a lot of fun punching, kicking, learning about dealing with bullies, and fending off strangers.  On occasion after class we would see some of the older kids and even adults during their karate classes.  It looked like fun.  I couldn’t help but on occasion to get caught up in entertaining the thought of “doing” karate myself.  I would get nostalgic about being 8 or 9 years old, watching Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris movies and remember how I would fantasize about becoming a Karate or Kung Fu master.  As kids my brother and I had been given (I don’t remember from who),  some type of Asian style pajamas as a gift.  Like comic book superheroes who dart out of sight and change into their costumes to reveal their superpowers, we became ninjas once we had on our “Kung Fu P.J.s”   Jumping over couches, swinging our arms wildly, kicking pillows through the air dangerously close to mom’s table top collection of glass adornments, and flinging cardboards cutout ninja stars at each other we were ninjas not to be messed with…in our own heads at least.  That is, until those fantasies came CRASHING down once someone “accidently” got kicked in the balls unleashing the banshee cry of pain, and then the real Kung Fu master of the house (yup, mom) would come in  stompin’ and screaming, “chancla” in hand, wielding it like a Mexican Miyamoto Musashi  (Oh did she master the ways of strategy of  “chancla” beat downs!), “Stop that right now before you kill each other or break my crystal!  And take those stupid pajamas off!”

Day earned my blue belt. Ooss!

     Anyhooooo…  Childhood scars aside, I had daydreamed of learning how to kick ass as a kid, but now my daughter was actually doing it, and making it look fun.  I managed to put the down Ho-Ho’s, Twinkies, Zingers, Cupcakes, and BBQ Potato Chips (Yes, all ‘o that) for a bit, and signed myself up.  When you’re 5years old there’s no repercussion to your body from kicking, punching, jumping and falling on purpose even.  But at 33 and pushing damn near 300lbs gravity becomes a son of a bitch!  I have been a student of karate at the Po1 studio for a little over 2 years now, and have shed blood, sweat, tears and fat off my ass, literally.  I’ve earned my blue belt up to this point.  There have been ups and downs throughout, be it work, family obligations, or injuries.  During and after achieving my blue belt in October of last year I dealt with a severe sciatica pain flare up.  I went through pain meds, acupuncture, and chiropractic therapy.  After a couple months the pain finally subsided, but my motivation was not where it was prior to testing.  I was inconsistent in my training, I was not making good nutrition choices and was putting back weight I had worked so hard to get off my frame.  Those hostess chocolate pastries full of yumminess call me to the “Dark Side” of the couch now and again.  Like Lord Vader I’m finding my way again from the Dark Side and finding Balance, chucking them Ho-Ho’s over rail into oblivion.  I’m not letting up.  I have no room for regret.  I will have that Blackbelt around my waist.


We all must suffer 2 pains.  The pain of regret or the pain of discipline.  
The difference is discipline weighs ounces while regret weighs tons.
                                     - Jim Rohn (courtesy Po1 Facebook page)


     I’m back on the wagon now.  I’m scheduled to test for my Green Belt June 24.  Putting the Zingers down, stepping away…Now Let’s Do THIS!  OOSS!