How Taekwondo Impacted My Life - Part 2

“Nobody bothers me!” Fulfilling my little girl dream of being a Black Belt was complete. Or was it? I’d conquered a seemingly impossible mountain. It was harder than I’d ever dreamt it would be. And yet, there I was, with black around my waist and black around my neck, standing about an inch taller. No. My dream was not complete; it had only just begun.

National Championships 2017 -1st as a Black Belt

Nothing can truly prepare you for the actual Black Belt Test. Not even mock tests. There’s something about the actual test day and adrenaline rush that provide that “extra special” knot in your gut. The test was so extensive and that knot so prominent that I felt defeat at the end of the test. Not relief. Not accomplishment. I couldn’t eat during the celebration and I certainly couldn’t think straight at all. This was different than the relief and pride I’d felt at every color belt test prior. As I dealt with these unexpected negative emotions over the following days, I realized my thinking ability wasn’t getting better. And I was irritable. I tried to run the mile again and it was horrendous, ending with me heaving on the side. And I’d developed a headache, and a weird one; it hurt under my skull, if you can imagine that. And my neck, holy cow. It had never hurt that badly before. I was asking other Black Belts if they’d had similar experiences. But no one had. It took my then supervisor to clue me in:  I was concussed. She sent me home immediately and ordered me to the doctor. This could not be happening. No. I’m not a sick girl anymore. But as I sat in Patient First and I struggled to recall a phone number, I realized that on October 29, 2016, I had indeed sustained my first concussion (can you say, “foreshadow”?). Allow me a moment to underscore the importance of tucking your chin during falls: TUCK YOUR CHIN DURING FALLS! After three days of sleep, minimal interaction, dark rooms, no sound, and a constant feed of protein, I started rehab. Again. I knew I would get through this because even though I’d never incurred a traumatic brain injury before, after all I had been through, this was just another little detour. I had a Black Belt to finish earning. I still had to make up the things that didn’t, um, go as planned on the test. I followed the orders to the “T”, monitoring my heart rate, wearing sunglasses, eating every two hours, etc. Along the way, I made up catchy new phrases with my half-functioning brain, like “words are just sentences.” I promise it made sense at the time. I recovered quickly, except for spinning kicks. Those took a little longer. But I finally made it back to compete in the National Championships in 2017, for the first time as a Black Belt! I earned the Silver Medal, losing the Gold to a 4th Dan who’d been practicing Taekwondo since she was, oh, 14 or something. I was very pleased, to say the least. The indomitable spirit lessons served me well.

Elliptical Nemesis

And then came October 4th, 2017, when my world changed forever (again). I was training to compete in my first international competition the next January. Since I’d completed my mile run for the 1st Dan, I switched from the treadmill to the elliptical machine for cardio work. Easier on the knees, right? Well, apparently, dismounting those suckers is tricky. I knew this! So, I was extra special careful. I stepped off with one foot carefully. After my foot was safely on the floor, I reached up for my phone, my towel, and my water bottle (note the three things and two hands ratio). As I began to take my left foot off the machine, my calf got caught on something (the wheel in the back). “Oh no! My knee! I can’t let it get twisted!” “I’m going down. My head! DON’T HIT YOUR HEAD ON THE GROUND!” I tucked my chin and braced myself for impact, wedged in between two elliptical machines. BAM! Right between the shoulder blades. But I didn’t hit my head, so at least I didn’t get a concussion! I quickly took assessment. Knee? Intact. Anybody see me? No. I was at a public gym. Nothing to see here. Move along. I got up to do my final stretches and my head felt weird. But I hadn’t hit my head, so I didn’t have a concussion. I went to a fitness class at the gym the next night. Wow, did my neck hurt. Like it had after the Black Belt test. But I hadn’t hit my head, so at least I didn’t have a concussion. The next day I went to sparring class and honestly, my neck felt better that day, so yay! But the headache wasn’t going away. But I hadn’t hit my head, so at least I didn’t have a concussion. Right? I kept telling myself this (and others, too), convinced it was true. But it was far from true. Enter concussion number two in just under one year. Not good timing. As all the symptoms continued to hang on or get worse, the doctors would ask me how many headaches I got a day, and I would look at them confused. One? It never stopped. I went to sleep with a headache. I woke up with a headache. I had daggers shooting up the base of my skull. I had a metal sheet (like magicians use) slicing my head in half. I had a vice on my temples. I had some sort of robot extraction device trying to pull my eyes out. I had something on the inside trying to push my eyes out. I had the “Khan” headache where it feels like it’s being crushed on both sides (Star Trek Into Darkness reference, in case you’re wondering). I had the stop-you-in-your tracks excruciating headache. I had pinpricks all over my head. That’s about half of them. And at least 4-5 of these were happening at the same time. Thinking was nearly impossible. Good thing work wasn’t demanding at the time. Except it was. It was performance appraisal season and I had plenty to write. If I could just get through them, I’d sleep for two weeks. That should help, right? It didn’t. After four months, of SOLID headaches, I finally got relief.  It was 30 of the most blessed seconds ever. I remember it clearly. I was in the shower when all of sudden…freedom! I was so grateful! I started praising and thanking God! I had no idea how long it would last, but I was grateful for the temporary relief. Of course, the headaches returned quickly. During this time, I faced my greatest challenge yet. As if the headaches weren’t bad enough, add on to them light sensitivity (sunglasses all the time), sound sensitivity (even the sound of my families’ voices seemed to etch directly into my bone marrow), ringing in my ears (right, sensitive to sound and yet can’t escape sound), the inability to complete a thought or sentence (words floating in my mind, unable to be connected coherently), short-term memory loss (if I did more than one thing at a time, both things were completely erased leaving a black hole behind).

During all of my other medical challenges, I developed strong coping mechanisms. For example, reading. But trying to understand and remember what I’d just read was too hard and created worse headaches. Off the list. Music: any sounds at all were torture. I remember missing all of the Christmas music that year. Off the list. Singing: well, that’s worse than just listening to music. Off the list. Movies/TV: ha! Staring at a screen with flashing lights. What could possibly go wrong? Off the list. Visiting with friends, in person or on the phone. Off the list. Every coping mechanism made my symptoms worse. My list was empty. I went to PT rehab with a different therapist. This one was awesome. I made progress. Well, enough to function anyway. The headaches and neck pain were still pretty constant, but not as severe. By this point, the docs were encouraging me to workout lightly, since blood flow could actually help bring healing. So, back to TKD I went. Only this time, sans sparring.

Giving up such a huge part of the Taekwondo experience was tough. I had finally come to love sparring and now it was yanked away. Sigh. I determined that I’d throw myself, metaphorically – neck issues, you know – into Poomsae, or Forms, Competition. There was a problem though. At my age, the number of forms I was required to know was much greater than what I actually knew. Of the Black Belt forms, I knew Koryo. Now, I had to learn Keumgang, Taebaek, Pyongwon, Shipjin, Jitae, and Cheonkwon. Six new forms. And I was approaching the 2nd Dan test, which meant I needed to learn the first four Palgwae forms, as well. Let’s take a step back and remember a few things: 1 – I was 49, and 2 – I had Post-Concussion Syndrome (PCS)/Whiplash Associated Disorder (it’s a thing, really). Poor Master Tigh. It’s a good thing he’s patient with the old folks. I’m not sure how many times he got saddled with teaching and re-teaching me (because my brain just couldn’t remember) all the Black Belt forms. I think it was practically every Saturday for months on end. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again?” “One more time.” “I just forgot what you told me.” He heard those phrases countless times but was always happy to repeat himself. His eye for detail was just what I needed, albeit headache inducing (not his fault!).

By December 2018, I was testing for my 2nd Dan Black Belt. Master Chien allowed me to test for all of the forms, but wait on the two “hard breaks” until my head/neck issues were more under control. You’d think after more than a year, the issues would be resolving themselves. But no. After more doctor visits and failed medication attempts to stop the headaches, my life was filled with muscle relaxers, caffeine, and NSAIDs just to get through the day with more tolerable headaches. Nothing was helping the memory loss, though. At work, I tried hard to continue until one day I was so out of it, I was wandering the halls to find my husband. I came upon my brand-new boss first. “Hey Alicia! How ya’ doing?” “I need to go to Canada to get my brain fixed,” I replied in monotone, with a glassy stare. It was a weird opener, but it’s all I could muster to say. He replied, “oookay, well whatever you need.” Then we awkwardly went our ways.

Alicia & Terry Moore, Owner of MMTR Physiotherapy in Canada

Why Canada? Well, they had a clinic that specialized in PCS and offered two-week short stay programs. The founder/owner of the clinic had himself suffered with PCS for 20 years until he found relief. I was desperate and ready to try just about anything for multiple reasons: I needed relief and I still had to conquer the two “hard breaks”. One was a palm strike breaking through 6 boards (the 1st Dan was 4 boards). The second was a two-brick break, with hands in the knife-hand position, breaking both bricks at the same time. So far, they were both going abysmally well. You know the problem with NOT breaking boards? It’s Newton’s Third Law of Motion: for every action in nature there is an equal and opposite reaction. Basically, that means, the boards fight back with the same force with which you attack. So, it’s always better to break them. The force of those unbroken boards would ricochet directly up my arm to my head. And then, I’d be done for a few days trying to recover. By the end of March 2019 (1 year, 5 months, and 28 days post-elliptical incident – but who’s counting?), I was headed to the Canadian clinic to find relief. Those two weeks were filled with hard work, pain, education, and most importantly, progress. Although I still struggle today in 2021 with symptoms, I came home with tools and I put those tools to work. My commitment to overcoming this challenge was not unlike my commitment to becoming an athlete and earning my 1st Dan. But now, I was fighting for my life. My quality of life. Two hours of stretching and strengthening every day seemed a small price to pay.

Would I have received any concussions without TKD in my life? Who knows? I’m not really a “What If” kind of person. The reality is this. I am a Taekwondo Black Belt and I have had two concussions over the course of training. Without the concussions and resultant struggles, I would not have the compassion I do for people with ADHD who fight to get their brain to cooperate. I get it now. I would not have an inkling of what people with Autism go through when loud noises occur. I get it now (in a very small way). I would not understand the plight of the aging as memory loss becomes more and more of a problem and the inability to understand people who speak quickly grows. I get it now. And what I went through, although tremendous, is only a slight portion of what others deal with all the time. And for this knowledge and compassion, I am grateful. So, yeah, October 4th was definitely life-changing.

Back to that 2nd Dan test. The two hard breaks continued to give me trouble as the struggles with my neck and head issues lingered. But the next lesson learned wasn’t about technique or perseverance. It was about humility – and those lessons are rarely fun. First, let me explain how the Black Belt tests and ceremonies work. Once the test is over, everyone gets their list of things that need to be made up and they go to work on them. Usually, about 6 months later (give or take), the official Belt Ceremony is scheduled. And if you haven’t completed your list, you don’t get your belt that day. I made it for my 1st Dan Ceremony with plenty of time. Not everyone does, though. Well, it was getting closer and closer to the 2nd Dan ceremony. I still had BOTH hard breaks left. I had broken so many bricks, one at a time. It was actually becoming comical. And those six boards were still a nemesis. I got five a few times, but not six. I was recording everything and watching in slow motion to try to fine-tune the technique. But the date for the ceremony eventually arrived. Now, many times when you haven’t completed the list on time, one tends to simply not go to the ceremony, so the sting isn’t so bad. Except I had a problem. My daughter tested for her 3rd Dan and was receiving her belt. We were supposed to get ours together. I went to the ceremony, determined to just be the proud Momma that night. And then Master Chien asked me to help set up. Yes, you read that correctly. I carried the box of new Black Belts into the room. The one with my name on it was there. I saw it...lovely. He carried the plaques. Mine was in the pile. He would hand them to me and then I would Iine them up on the table. I watched as he picked mine up, stared at it, and then put it to the side. Ouch! Talk about humbling. That was really a lesson I did not expect and did not particularly relish. It took a bit of self-talk to get my focus back on proud Momma, but I got there.

FINALLY breaking 2 bricks

The next week, I was back at it. Perseverance. Eventually, another Black Belt test was scheduled, and I was one of the judges/adjudicators. I asked if I could try my breaks at the test. Master Chien said yes! I had my pile of boards and set them up. One. Two. Three – jump and attack! Those boards broke like they were butter! All six were broken before my hand got through them. I was elated! I even did a little dance. Okay, okay, it was a big dance. My perseverance paid off. But I still had the two-brick break to go.  I broke three bricks that day, one at a time. There was still more work to do. Over the course of the next several months, I became the best single-brick-breaker at the school! In fact, I broke 48 bricks one at a time. Every class, I would ask, “can I go work on my bricks?” I’d come back 20 minutes later. “I broke nine. You’re out of bricks.” And on it would go. In fact, it went on so long that I started to doubt my ability to complete the task. “Maybe I’m okay with being a 1st Dan. That was my original goal anyway.” “This is actually really hard. Maybe I can’t do this.” “It’s okay if I stop. I mean, I have major concussion issues. Everyone will understand.” Yep. I actually entertained the thought of quitting. I allowed myself a moment to be okay with not being okay, but only for a short time (maybe a week). It was therapeutic, actually, even though I confessed it to no one (well, now everyone knows). But I started back up. And then one Saturday morning, clink. Clink. Clink. CLINK. Pause. SCREAM! Both bricks sat before me in two pieces. 50 bricks later, I was a 2nd Dan. I was so close to completing the task when I wanted to quit. The indomitable spirit prevailed.

Clearly, my journey, like many, involved overcoming challenges, both physical and mental. But that’s what the Student Creed says, right? “I will develop myself in a positive manner and avoid anything that would reduce my physical growth or mental health.” But all along this journey, something else was brewing inside. I’d begun “coaching” the Competition Team in 2012. It’s “coaching” in quotes because I was a Green Belt back then and really, I was chief organizer and an athlete-calmer in the holding area during competitions. But I wanted to actually be able to coach the kids on the team. After I earned my 1st Dan, I realized I wanted to help the athletes get better in specific, tangible ways. The more I hung around the kids, the more I loved it. Walking around the room, giving specific technique tips and watching them adjust and improve got me over-the-moon excited. Helping an athlete actually calm their nerves before stepping onto the sparring mat made my heart sing. As a side note, one of my favorite things is when parents send me pictures of me and their kids in action. And then, it happened. Master Chien gave me my “big break”, only I didn’t know it beforehand. He took all the instructors away one weekend for a morale building event and asked me to run team practice. The whole thing! All 4 hours! I planned speed and agility work, and strength training, and conditioning, and core work, and more conditioning, and lots of stretching. I had so much fun and the team seemed to enjoy it as well (especially because I gave them breaks – don’t tell Master Chien!). Now I had a taste and I wanted more. Master Chien also had me working with specific athletes needing help overcoming some tough obstacles. I’ll never forget the time I told one of them, “Do you know why I’m holding the bar high (referring to receiving a form stripe)?” They replied with words like because I need to know how to do it right and competition blah blah blah. I said, “No. I hold the bar high because I know you can.” The light in their eyes was so bright, I needed shades. Breathing that kind of belief into the athletes was what I wanted to do. To help those who think they can’t, actually achieve their goals and more. I knew it was possible. I’d proven that with my own journey. It was time to share it with others. I began to realize that what I had considered “being saddled with” as an athlete (see previous reference with Master Tigh), I now considered an honor as a coach.

My Personal Trainer - Coach Tim - Owner, JUICE Athlete Compound

As I was earning stripes, I remember hearing, “you need to practice more,” and leaving frustrated because I didn’t know what was missing. Were my kicks too low? Was there something technically wrong with my blocks? Were they expecting a perfect stance and my body simply couldn’t move that way? I wanted the ability to see a Back Stance or a Horse Stance gone wrong, and be able to determine if the end state was actually possible or if there was a mobility or strength issue blocking the way. But I had no idea how to actually do that. I’m an Electrical Engineer by degree and a Manager by trade, with no background in the medical field. Well, except troubles, and I had plenty of those. I knew if I only applied my personal situational knowledge, I could actually cause harm, so that was a non-starter. I needed education. Fortunately, my personal trainer, Coach Tim Thackrey, was also a coach of coaches and offered several classes on how to train athletes of all ages. I signed up for the Youth Empowerment System training first and completed that very quickly. I told Master Chien what I was up to and he invited me to come once a week to help with that same program at the school. More time with more great kiddos. Seeing the lightbulb go on in their eyes when they successfully completed a new challenge was just the awesome I loved. But I still didn’t know how to spot underlying issues. The next step was Coach Tim’s Remote Coaching program. I mulled this idea over in my mind for a while. It was a six-month program, with homework. Would my work schedule be able to handle this (along with all of my other responsibilities)? It was now the year 2020, in March. And unexpectedly, the world shut down due to the COVID-19 pandemic. But the training program was not only about coaching remotely, it was already planned as a virtual class itself. And I was, all of sudden, at home, with time on my hands (about six months worth, actually). I jumped in the deep end. Coach Tim taught me how to do what he was doing for me. I learned so much about the human body, and about how to determine a person’s weakest and strongest areas, and finally how to safely progress someone toward their goals. A few brave ladies allowed me to practice writing programs for them, which was really cool.

Alicia and Eric - YES Certified Coaches

About a month into the pandemic shutdown, another opportunity presented itself. Dr. Jason Han, a Physical Therapist in California and former TKD champion, was offering direct mentoring for two to three people. Before he could finish the spiel, I was composing the email with my interest. There was an application process, of course, since the spots were very limited. And I got in! In addition to Coach Tim’s course, I now had a second personal mentor in Dr. Han. We met remotely every week and he also gave me homework, in the form of exercises. I gathered information on things I was seeing from the kiddos on the team and peppered him with questions. In a short time, I had enough information to start applying to the team.

The Competition Team started virtual practices almost immediately after the shutdown and refocused efforts on building a strong base. With everything new I was learning and Master Chien’s permission, I designed an assessment for the team. Since everything was virtual, the parents were heavily involved with tape measures, and cameras, and stopwatches (oh my!). I collected all the data, made spreadsheets, and plotted graphs. Over the next several months, I designed at-home workouts in addition to the team practices, created specifically for the major areas needing mobility and strengthening. And nearly every athlete showed major improvements in those areas. I can’t express how much joy it brings to give back to the school community that changed my life so much. But although I knew so much more regarding anatomy, I still couldn’t fully detect underlying issues. My main coaching goal remained elusive.

At this point, I’d really fallen in love with the idea of coaching people and helping them reach their goals. So much so, that I thought it might be a good part-time gig for retirement. That little girl dream of becoming a Black Belt was turning into a seriously lifelong change. In May of 2020, I began pursuit of this new goal. Enter the National Academy of Sports Medicine, NASM. I signed up to earn an official certification as a Personal Trainer (CPT). As a refresh, I’m also in the middle of Coach Tim’s Remote Coaching and Dr. Han’s Personal Mentoring. Now, I have six months to complete the official NASM-CPT course and exam. Some that know me well say that I often over-commit myself. Clearly, I can’t argue against that point. After 10 weeks of intensive study, learning more anatomy and all kinds of neuromuscular interactions and more, I passed the proctored exam in August, 2020. I was official! I even started an official business with the State of Maryland and got insurance…the whole nine yards. I continued using the new knowledge at team practices, gradually introducing new concepts. Hearing success stories from the team members always made my day. And while I could help determine more underlying conditions for issues (remember, that was the original goal of all this education), I could tell there was still something missing.

When I purchased the NASM-CPT course and exam, I purchased a bundle of items. The first of which was the Corrective Exercise Specialist (CES) course and exam. In May of 2020, NASM told me I had one year to complete that course, which seemed so far away. Until May of 2021, that is. I’d been seeing I’d have access to course content until May 19, 2025. So, naturally, I thought they’d updated the policy. One day I decided I should double check the expiration date on the exam, you know, just in case. May 20, 2021. Heart rate increases. Sense of urgency rises. Panic. I had about 20 days to complete 18 chapters of material and prepare for the exam. Mind you at this point, I’m also trying to learn four additional Palgwae forms for the 3rd Dan Test in June. I pulled out my college skills of cramming and went to work. I’m happy to report that on May 18, 2021, I earned my Corrective Exercise Specialization! This had been the information I wanted all along! I now had the tools needed to determine underlying causes for issues. Things like, is the inability to keep one’s feet parallel in a Horse Stance because of tight calves, weak shin muscles, weak glutes, or tight inner thighs? I knew how to figure that out! Now I’d really be able to help the TKD team athletes reach their goals!

It sounds like everything has come full circle. Master Chien believed in me until I became the athlete he knew I always was. Then, he supported my desire to enhance my coaching skills, giving me so many opportunities to give back to the team. He knew that life begins at Black Belt, which I thought I knew, too. But I thought life as a Black Belt was more about mastering the art (which it is, don’t get me wrong). The real life as a Black Belt is more about giving than perfecting. It’s more about influencing than achieving. It’s more about inspiring than attaining. At the end of my 2nd Dan essay, I proclaimed, “I’m not finished with Taekwondo yet.” And while that still rings true, perhaps a better way to put it is “Taekwondo is not finished with me.”