what I allow is what will continue.
Everybody has things. When it comes to martial arts that could be, I dunno, a current or past injury (chronic or otherwise), asthma, anything. Some of favorite training compatriots have muscle deficiencies, hearing loss, labral tears, ripped tendons. I mean, in an ideal Kung Fu universe we all started training at five years old and our bodies became so lithe and strong that we just don’t have these issues, but the fact is that shit happens, and I used to think “well, you gotta train on in spite of it,” and that’s still true. But that’s just Acceptance. That’s just acknowledging your enemy and letting him have a room in your house. Hell no. The only enemies I have are in my own head and I’m out to destroy them. So my thing is my thing. It’s a shitty thing. It keeps me off the mat way more than I’d like. It requires a lot of attention when it flares up and there is no cure. I’ve made peace with the fact that I might lose the eye. I might be an old, half-blind Kung Fu practitioner. I might wear the Kill Bill eyepatch for years. But I’m gonna rock it.
My things are part of me. I won’t say they make me any more unique than anybody else. Cliches never made me feel better about it. But I’ve never regretted a day of training. There’s no better painkilling drug, no stronger anti-depressant, than even just a single, solid hour of training.
Even if I get a pirate joke every five minutes.
