The Red Belt

My wife and I recently returned from 15 days of intensive martial-arts training in the Arizona desert, near Sedona. Eat breakfast, train. Eat lunch, train. Eat dinner, train. Go to bed, start again.

A couple of times we even trained before breakfast.

Several times along the way we decided we didn't want to do any more, but we kept going anyway.

Earned red belts in the end. Never mind the white, yellow, and blue belts that usually come before that in Dahn Mu Do (similar to Tai Chi). Not that we went to Sedona seeking belts. We didn't even know about them until we were there. And we didn't particularly like the idea that there would be a test at the end of our stay. This was our vacation, for God's sake.

But of course once we learned about the red belts we couldn't very well go home without one, could we? Not on your life.

Best part was the stuff we did with swords. Wooden swords that we gave names to, carried everywhere, and slept with every night.

It took us days to master the Vortex Sword form, and I still messed up when it was my turn on stage. I left out a move and ended with my back to the audience. Damn. A quick, impromptu move set things right, but still.

The whole Vortex thing takes about three minutes to perform and seems ridiculously easy now.

That's just the way of things, I guess.

Then again I still need to refine my footwork, and there's a new twist our local instructor shared with us — twirling the sword like a batton to change directions with flair.

I'm working on it.