At my Martial Arts School we have a black belt testing process that is quite involved. In order to become a Master of the Art, one must go through a series of tests that are tailored for the Black Belt candidate. The tests are broken into three parts: The Test of the Mind, Test of the Body and Test of the Spirit. However, before the test has even been given, the student must go through quite a journey to reach this goal.

The average candidate at my school takes about 10 years to reach the test but most students do not reach this level. Of the 150 or so students that I started my path alongside, there are only five of us left. During these years, our masters have been watching us closely and taking notes, looking for weaknesses and character flaws. Many of these faults are trained out of us during our studies but some are so ingrained that they need special attention.

By the time a student is tested they must pass through many trials, many of which are monumental personal achievements on their own to get through. During an event called Kung-Fu Weekend, students nearing the testing stage are required to remain awake for the entire weekend- a full forty-eight hours or more while keeping up with the vigorous activity schedule of the weekend. At the end of the weekend, we had to spar against a pack of three other students. The sleep deprivation and mental fatigue simulate the effects of getting hit with a stunning blow to the temple and, short of actually hitting students, is the best way to see how a student will act and react in that situation. In addition, the Masters want to see how our decision-making is affected by the lack of sleep. They will not hand out a black belt to anyone that they think will make inherently poor decisions while under stress.

At other points in our training we face some fearful activities that challenge each of us in our own ways. One of the most dreaded classes is called “Impact Chi” where we are forced to relax while getting struck with typical types of strikes and assorted violence against our bodies. The class starts with a warm-up of dropping a twenty pound medicine ball on our own chest while laying on our backs. The class progresses to resisting the urge to cringe away from pressure applied to sensitive nerve junctions. Other nerve-wracking classes include avoiding metal Chinese throwing stars (although the points are not sharpened, they still do cut), blocking a live sword with small palm-sized sticks, and fighting with broken glass or jacks in our sneakers. For me, one of the most difficult rites of passage was “cave breathing”. We lie on the floor and slowly, three-to-four other students lie on top until you reach a total of four times your body weight, pressing on you. You lie there for three-to-five minutes fighting the panic that comes with the inability to take a full breath knowing that after you reach your limit, you still have four-and-a-half minutes left.

Finally, the day came when I got my first part of my Master’s Test: The Test of the Mind. The tests are written by Black-Belt Masters in the school and are written to address the weaknesses of the candidate taking the test. To my absolute honor, this test was written by the Head Master himself. My task was to renovate a section of the school used for training police officers to safely enter apartment buildings. The “Diallo Project” was constructed a few years prior to help the defendant police officers conduct research for the court trial coming from that tragedy. The full-scale mock-up of the apartment doorway was in need of repair. I was given two options for completing the construction: I could either use my left hand only (I’m right-handed) while the other hand was tied behind my back or work blind folded. I was allowed to switch from one restriction to the other as needed. In addition, I had to replace the decrepit entry door with an appropriate weather-worthy door. The entire project was to be completed with a budget under $150- which is the typical price for the door alone! After construction I had to walk one mile in under 15 minutes carrying any penalty weight I accumulate by going over budget. This was the Test of the Mind because of the prior planning that needed to be done before hammer met nail. Luckily, I was able to find a brand new door at the Habitat for Humanity warehouse for $35. When I found the door, I called my wife and said that I just passed my test. During the actual construction phase, things moved along smoothly, slowly and methodically. Until… I realized that I just walked up and down the steps and grabbed a saw WITH MY RIGHT HAND! I cursed myself for the lapse of concentration and was ill inside for the rest of the day. When I got home, I contacted my Master and informed him of the transgression. He counted it as a warning since I did not actually do any work with the right hand but if it happens again, there would be a penalty. After the test, I was told that the reason for this test was that my Master saw in me a level of haste in many things I did. The test forced me to take my time and do things in a slow and methodical way.

The rest of the construction was completed without incident and it came time for inspection. A committee of three Masters looked over the work and were mostly pleased. I was informed that there were two deficiencies in the work and I had to find them and fix them or take a penalty. To add to the stress, my Master waited to inform me until the night before I had to go upstate to help another student with her test. My only hope was to find the two problems and fix them before noon when I had to leave town. I found one of the two mistakes but couldn’t find the other. My penalty was to walk a total of three miles instead of one (each under fifteen minutes) while carrying thirty-two pounds of penalty weight. Upon my return from the walk, my Master informed me that I passed the test and he showed me the small detail that I missed: two pieces of moulding that needed to be painted that I missed.

The following week, I received my Part Two: The Test of the Body from another black belt, Mark. This test came in two parts: a test of coordination and a test of stamina. The coordination part consisted of jumping rope for two minutes and including 5 doubles (two swings with one jump), kicking a hackey-sack to myself fifteen times in a row, hit a volleyball to myself 8 times and juggle for 15 seconds. I spent the next month working on this circus act of a test. When the day of the test came along, I banged out all the tasks except the jump rope. I kept tripping on the rope before the two minutes was up. My Master gave me several tries, we worked for an hour to see if I could get two minutes of jumping to no avail. He finally called it a night and informed me that I passed this phase but there will be a penalty for the jump rope.

The following weekend, we met on Long Beach along with a small posse of safety monitors. My task was this: starting at the center of this stretch of the beach, I had to walk to the west end, a distance of about one and a half miles blindfolded while carrying two small eight-pound medicine balls. They were the size of a large softball and I carried one in each hand. My safety monitors and I were not allowed to speak to each other. Before I started my walk, Mark informed me of my penalty for my poor performance on the jump rope was that I had to keep one of the balls above my shoulders at all times. I was lucky with the weather. It was mid-September and it was clear and in the upper seventies. The yin for the beautiful Saturday’s yang was that it brought out sunbathers by the busload. I pulled on my baseball cap, put on a pair of grippy gloves, put on my blindfold and headed west.

Since my monitors were not allowed to speak to me, I instructed them beforehand to have one monitor in front of me by a few paces and another to the rear. Whenever I needed to turn, they used “clickers”. One click for turn left, two for right and three for an unavoidable obstacle to be cautious of.

Guided mainly by the sound of the surf to the left, I headed in a straight line towards the west end of the beach. The occasional click adjusted my course. Every minute or so I would switch which hand held the ball above my shoulder. Since it was too difficult to retain a good enough grip while letting the lower ball hang completely down, I had to endure the walk without a proper blood flow into my hands. The occasional tingle had to be massaged out by rolling the ball against my stomach as I walked. Every twenty-one minutes my watch alarm beeped. Time for a break. Breaks were allowed every twenty minutes but I added in an extra minute to allow for transitions and any other event that took up time to start again. To begin my break, wordlessly, I kneeled down in the sand and held both balls up high. The first time I did this, the monitors did not know what to do and stood there for a few moments until they realized that they can take the balls away from me. Sightless, I took off my back pack and took out my water bottle to re-hydrate. After drinking and placing it back in my pack, I let my arms hang and get some blood back. My two minute break ended and I was off walking again.

As we walked, I started smelling a stronger scent of coconut. The murmur of activity got louder. Shrieks of children, cheers of Frisbee players, and the occasional radio dotted my black landscape. My monitors’ clicks came more frequently now. The beach was crowded. Two steps, click, left, three steps, click-click, right. I was weaving a blind maze between the towels of sunbathers. I could sense people shifting their positions as my shadow crossed their sunny faces. Every few minutes, I heard my lookouts fielding questions from the curious. I wandered a path from dune to surf and could not imagine that the beach was so packed with people that I had to detour all the way down to the wet sand to avoid getting painted into a corner.

I noticed that the terrain started to get strange. It was uneven and I felt as if the land was forcing me to the left. The clicks were erratic. A series of three. Heeding the warning, I took baby steps, feeling each spot before placing my foot down. A barrier blocked my way. Surprisingly early, I had reached the stone wall at the west end! By now my monitors were clicking like machine guns because they didn’t know what the code was for “turn around you reached the end!”

The return trip to the starting point was much the same. The smell of sun block, people chatting, kids playing. Occasionally, I would hear someone chase a ball or Frisbee running in my direction. I immediately, centered myself, bent my knees to absorb a possible bang and squeezed both of the balls against my head to hold them as tight as possible yet keeping one above my shoulders.

When I reached the starting point I heard the quiet commotion while fresh monitors rotated in and the old guard brought them up to speed. I had reached the half-way mark of my walk. I now needed to walk to the East end of the beach where I will begin another phase of the walk. The first portion of this leg was a straight run along mostly deserted beach and was uneventful- until the ground disappeared from under my foot. I was moving along at a good pace and when I took one step, there was no sand beneath my foot. I felt the emptiness deepen as my foot reached for the bottom of the depression in vain. I cursed to myself as I felt my balance slip away. My only thought was not to drop the balls- immediate failure! I pulled the balls tight into my chest as I started to twist my body. I completed the spin just as I landed on my back, my right foot still hanging in the hole. Without hesitation, I began the predetermined penalty for every fall: I held the balls aloft, my monitors took them off my hands and I did ten pushups.

In what seemed like a short time and after a few meanders around sunbathers I was stopped by one of my monitors right in the middle of a particularly dense group of sun bathers.

“I’m allowed to speak to you now,” she said. “I am going to take your blindfold off. You have reached the end of the walk.”

Intense light blasted right through my closed eyelids and forced tears to squeeze through the corners. It took me a few seconds to be able to open my eyes and then to look around and orient myself. My next task was to “run for about a quarter of a mile to the rock jetty.” Upon spotting the jetty, I started running holding both balls above my shoulders to remain symmetrically balanced. The running was exhausting and I was panting after only thirty seconds. I could barely lift my feet out of the sand between steps. As I neared the jetty, I saw another about a hundred yards beyond.

At this point one of my fears during preparation for this test came true. During my research using maps and satellite pictures of the beach, I saw three jetties and didn’t know which would be the landmark I was looking for. I was hopeful that it would be indicated somehow for my test, but it wasn’t. My legs burned. I could not get enough air into my lungs. I made a very hard decision: I was not going to fail by turning around at the wrong jetty so I decided to run to the last one- still two jetties away! It was close to a half mile. Meanwhile, an observer from the school was walking with Mark not far away.

“Should I go tell him he’s gone too far?” He asked Mark.

“Nope, he’s doing it to himself. But he’s doing great. Better than I thought.”

My entourage and I finally reached the last jetty and I collapsed against the sharp rocks fighting for breath. I was given a twenty-minute break in order to prepare for the next phase. I took about ten minutes to just lay on the rocks, slow my heart and breathing and get some energy back. My pulse pounded in my ears. I drank some water and ate some candy for energy. I took off my sneakers and replaced them with SCUBA booties from my pack. I knew I would be walking west in the late afternoon so I brought polarized sunglasses to cut through the glare on the waves. The last leg of my walk was to be out in the water back to the starting point about a mile and a half away. I had to keep my feet submerged. If the tops of my feet come out of the water, I have to do ten pushups. If the balls get wet, ten pushups.

I grabbed the two medicine balls and headed down into the water. The late summer waters were pleasant and comfortable, but that was the only redeeming factor. The drag on my legs was tiring. I had to find the best place to walk so that the receding waves did not expose my feet while not walking too deep that I have to fight too much drag. This put me right in the zone where the waves were crashing- threatening to splash onto the balls. Fortunately, I had taken this into account when I planned the exact time of my walk. I planned to reach this phase during the slack tide between high and low tides. The slack tide would have slightly lower waves- or so I hoped. After a few minutes of walking in the surf, I reached the first jetty. Forced to get out of the water, I walked up on the beach, handed the balls to my monitors and completed my ten-pushup-penalty for getting my feet out of the water.

The walk was one of those mildly annoying, but not too difficult, things that just seem to go on forever. The expanse of sand stretched off into infinity obscured by the haze of sea spray and dried salt on my glasses. My shoulders grew weary from the constant lifting of the weighted balls. Every six seconds a wave reached me and I lifted the balls as high as I could to avoid getting splashed. After energetic waves, I checked the balls’ surfaces for any stray drops of water. With luck, timing and some learned skill as I went, I only had to do a few rounds of penalty pushups- which was fine with me because my arms were like lead and lacked all strength.

After two hours of walking with these balls, I reached my goal. Mark was standing on the beach at the finish line- the point where I first began. He waved me out of the water where I had a short break before beginning the final portion of the test- sparring for ten minutes in the surf.

I took out a few sets of goggles from my backpack in case any of my opponents wished the eye protection. One of the stipulations of my test was that I could use anything I wanted, but needed to carry it all with me. My backpack had water, some snacks, the goggles, sun block, sneakers and an overshirt. After my short break, I headed into the surf and Mark called in my first opponent. We sparred for a minute or so and he called in a fresh fighter. One after another, they conga-lined into the water to fight me. I had to conserve energy and be effective against their attacks. I chose to go for quality over quantity. I spent most of my time avoiding and moving to neutralize attacks. When the time was right, I launched a counterattack which often distanced or temporarily disabled any attacks. I used the waves that I’ve become so familiar with as part of my strategy. As large waves crossed me, I used them to hide kicks that I threw below the water’s surface. I purposely missed kicks and strikes in order to hit an incoming wave and to splash water into my opponent’s face. I even ducked under some of the larger waves and attacked while submerged. I lost track of time as each fresh sparring partner cycled in. Was it three minutes so far or ten? The next partner came in, then another- two at once! The last aggressor was a blackbelt and well rested from watching. He came in like gangbusters, double-teaming me from both sides. It was too difficult to move quickly to avoid blows so I adapted by manipulating my opponents. I redirected them into each other. One blocked me from the other so I only had to fight one at a time. Finally, Mark called time from up on the sand. It was over and I made it.

The time for celebration and rest did not last long. A week later, I had my last test in my hands. The Test of the Spirit. Willpower and determination will be pushed to the limit. The Test of the Spirit was always the wild card because it can encompass almost anything- as long as the student finds it unpleasant every step of the way.

I was instructed to reflect about myself and describe my five greatest weaknesses. What makes one weakness greater than another? Physical weakness? Mental weakness? Weakness of personality, judgment, character? I chose one physical weakness, my colorblondness because it seems to affect so many aspects of my life. Besides that, the other weakness I chose to list were personality problems. As I listed those, I realized the hidden challenge to eradicate these kinds of weaknesses that we have some control over. A week later I submitted my list.

A few days after, I received my next set of instructions. List weakness that others would perceive in me. The problem I had with this one was one of perception. If others view something as a weakness, is it really a weakness in me or in other’s perception in me. In the end, they are the same since intent is irrelevant and perception is what you must deal with. This list of weaknesses was a combination of my first list and a few new character flaws.

When I submitted this list, my next task was given to me. How would I fix these flaws that I see in myself. My first thought when I looked at the latest test was “is this ever going to be over? Is this the whole test to see if I get tired of question after question with no hint of how long this will go on?” I grew frustrated but soon got over it and got to work.

The other shoe finally dropped when I submitted the answers to the last set of questions and I was given the actual task of my Test of the Spirit. When I read what I had to do, the blood drained from my hands as they held the paper- and that was before I had a chance to let the magnitude of the tasks sink in. I was to spend an entire weekend at the school confined in one of the rooms. On the first evening I had to perform a series of exercises, each of which was probably beyond my limits at the moment of reading the test. To my horror, my first task was to jump rope for eight minutes-EIGHT MINUTES! I couldn’t get past 2 minutes last month for the previous part. It was evident that the Black Belts who write each test talk to each other. After the jump rope, I needed to do 200 sit-ups within ten minutes. The final exercise was to do a kung-fu exercise called “sticking hands” with a partner for ten minutes while standing on a balance board. Essentially it was to touch wrist-to-wrist with a partner and try to slip your arm past them to strike while they attempt to do the same. The balance board forced you to stand on your toes with your heels elevated for the entire exercise.

After the exercise portion, I was to sit on the floor either on my knees or on crossed legs until 9 AM the next morning. To make sure that I don’t get completely rested, I had to recite the basic principles of the school out loud every hour without using any sort of alarm to wake me or as a reminder.

At 9 AM, I was to complete a half-marathon in under two and a half hours. Upon, my return to the school I had to count rice using tweezers to transfer the rice from one container to another. Although the amount of rice was unspecified, I’m sure it was to be a sizeable amount. After the rice count, I had to repeat the exercise portion from the night before. On the second morning, I had to spend two hours perched on the tops of short poles in the school’s yard. The final step of the test was to recite a poem that I had composed during the test in my “spare time” from memory.

I was given the test on a Sunday. Monday after school, I was in the gym talking to a personal trainer. Phil Filmore was a wrecking ball! A fine specimen of a man, Phil was a boxer with zero body fat and what appeared to be muscles that were not catalogued on any anatomy charts. The following day I was in sweats and standing in a gym for the first time in close to ten years. My trainer was a drill sergeant. He worked me for a pathetic hour. I jumped rope for 8 minutes with so many trips that he lost count after 50 or so times. In a full ten minutes I got 75 sit-ups done. I was a huffing heap at the end of a leisurely mile jog. The only encouragement came from the balance board which I mastered in my first try.

The following day I was back at the gym with my trainer. Today we worked on the weights doing a total body workout. That night, I had difficulty sleeping because I was sore in places I didn’t even know had muscles. I trained religiously for the next month in preparation for my test day. Slowly my sit-ups progressed a few more each day. I eventually reached 200 sit-ups and beyond in ten minutes. Unfortunately, that was about the only tangible improvement I’ve made so far.

The day of the test came and I loaded all the equipment I needed for my test into my car and drove to the school. 8PM came and I started my test with the jump rope. Unfortunately, my skill at jumping rope did not improve much in the last month and the black belt grew frustrated at my inability. After about 4 minutes into my second try she called a stop and informed me that I failed and will be retested in about a month. Thirty minutes after I arrived, I was heading home from my test determined never to return to the school again out of frustration and disgrace. This test was impossible and it was unfair that I drew this lot.

I slept on my decision a couple of nights and decided to stay the course. I did not want to go through this test but knew that I would regret it and never get over it for the rest of my life. I received the revised test the same day. Each time a student receives a test and fails, the revised test is to be in some way harder. My revised test was exactly the same except that I needed to jump at 125 turns a minute instead of the original 120. Another month came and passed. More training. More jump rope. But I just wasn’t progressing. When the week of my test arrived, I called the blackbelt who wrote my test and informed her that I felt that I could not pass the test at this time and I was granted a postponement. She told me to train and let her know when I ready as long as it was before Mach 1.

I re-doubled my training. My visits to the gym increased from three to four or five times a week. I’ve become a “regular” in the late afternoon. I finally started to see some appreciable progress. When confident that passing was within reach, I called my blackbelt and let her know I was ready. Expecting some kind of penalty for balking at my last test date, I was not surprised when it came. Instead of testing in about a month, I was given an additional ten weeks to wait for my test. Ten more weeks to stay at this level of fitness was not going to be easy. Rather than viewing it as a penalty of time, I took it as an opportunity to train even better and harder.

Test day finally arrived. I moved into the school an hour and a half early in order to make sure that I had everything I needed and it was set up in just the right places. While sitting on the floor, I would need to have everything I would use within hand’s reach.

At eight o’clock exactly, I lit my candle. The candle needed to stay lit for the entire test without any interference from anyone including myself. My Master came in and the test began. My monitors lined up behind me. Two of them with clicker counters and one peering over their shoulders calling out the jumps. I slammed out the first four minutes with no problem but then some leg fatigue started deadening my calves. In my head, I heard all my friends and supporters. Their words echoing in my head between the rhythmic hits of the rope on the floor.

You can beat this.

I’ll think strong thoughts for you.

During the last couple of minutes, I lost track of time and wasn’t sure if I had reached the eight-minute mark- so I kept jumping and jumping. Finally, my Master called “stop!” I had done eight minutes and twenty seconds of jump rope at an average of 140 jumps per minute. It was the first time I ever jumped that long!

Right up to test day, the jump rope was still the biggest wild card of this test. Too many trips or fatigue could have ended it right there once again. At soon as she called ‘stop’ my thoughts were: I just passed my test!

The sit-ups came and went pretty much as during training although a little slower. It must have been the different surface than the gym where I practiced. Two hundred sit-ups in 9 minutes. Finally, came the balance board. I had to stand on the edge of a two-by-four wood frame on the balls of my feet with my heels hanging in the air for ten minutes while doing a hand exercise with a partner. After eight minutes or so, my legs started quaking from the strain. I shifted positions every so often, lifted one foot, stood tall, crouched low- anything to relieve the fatigue.

I made it through the exercises and after a short break, began the “reflection phase” of the test. I had a long road ahead of me. My next activity was the half-marathon in the morning and I had to sit cross legged in this room for almost twelve hours until then. Throughout the evening, my monitors rotated in and out in shifts of one or two hours each. I occupied my time by eating pretzel nuggets one at a time- taking about two minutes for each one. I looked at the ingredients to my granola bars. I inspected the tweezers I will use tomorrow for the rice counting. Anything to keep my mind awake.

To my surprise, the time passed rather quickly. Every hour, on the hour, I recited the principles of the art:

“Mind and Body in Harmony
Economy of Movement
Recognize and Exploit Weaknesses
Create and Use the Unexpected”

At soon as I was finished reciting, I immediately tried to catch a nap. Still sitting up, I held up my head on my hands and propped my elbows on my knees. Doing this I managed to get a couple of 5-minute cat naps every hour. Once I reached the half-hour mark, I stopped trying to nap for fear of sleeping through the next recitation. The occasional tingle in my feet let me know that it was time to shift positions. Every two hours, I was given a break. It was a slow process getting up. All my bones and muscles had solidified into my hunched-over, cross-legged position. It took about two of my ten precious minutes just to regain the flexibility to stand straight up.

The dark, cold hours of the morning deepened unseen outside my windowless room. The traffic outside died down to one car every couple of minutes. Even the air traffic from the nearby airport became a fleeting break in the silence. I ate some food but surprisingly, I didn’t have much of an apatite. I knew I needed some energy for the upcoming run, but nerves had made me borderline nauseous. Birds started calling outside. Some dawning sunlight streamed through the front of the school and crept across the entry of the gym. I made it through my first night.

At 8:45, my Master returned (from a comfortable and restful night’s sleep!). She allowed me a few minutes to freshen up, stretch and prepare for the run. At nine AM exactly, I emerged from the school and began my run. I immediately went into my training pace and ran my miles at a measured speed. When I completed my first one-mile lap, I took a Sharpie marker from my pocket and drew a slash on my tank top. 12 more to go! The miles added up quickly and before I knew it I looked down at my shirt to see ten slashes and I still had forty-five minutes left.

(Fast forward to after the test: it was Sunday evening and I was just bedding down to the first sleep since Thursday night when the phone rang. It was Barry: Student #1. He was calling his congratulations and I felt like the president himself was on the phone with me. During the conversation, he asked me if anything strange happened during my test. At the time, I answered 'no' but afterwards I realized that something magical did happen to me. I was given the gift of tachypsychia. Tachypsychia (tacky- sci- kia) is a warped perception of time caused by stress. People commonly experience it and say things like “it happened so fast that I couldn’t do anything about it” or “it was like things were in slow motion.”

During my torturous sitting on the gym floor, the tachypsychia made time move by me much quicker than normal. But now, during the run, the time stretched and gave me all the time in the world to run my race.)

One thing that I kept in mind about black belt tests was that it was best just to get through the test and not to get fancy. When black belt candidates have to spar for extended lengths of time, those who passed consistently say that they weren’t trying to beat their opponents but were trying to outlast their opponents. Conserve their energy, use efficiency of motion. With three miles to go and forty-five minutes to do it I scaled back my efforts. I passed this part of my test already- crossing the finishing line was just a formality now. I ran one more mile at a slower pace and then walked the last two miles. I finished the run in two hours and twenty minutes- ten minutes shy of my deadline.

Upon entering the gym, I was greeted with a small container of rice sitting on a snack table with a folding chair next to it. I had to count the rice one grain at a time using tweezers. After counting for about an hour, I decided to check my progress by comparing the counted container next to the uncounted. To my horror, I hadn’t made a dent. I spent the next two hours or so adjusting my counting technique to find the fastest and most accurate method for transferring the rice from one container to the other using the tweezers. Rather than picking up each grain, lifting it and dropping it into the other container, I tipped the full container on its side by the edge of the table and held the empty bin just below the edge of the container. Once I was set up, all I needed to do was to flick each grain into the bin. The counting went quickly now and I started making progress. Every once in a while I ran into a complication: the rice sliding across the plastic bin built up a static charge on the plastic which caused the grains to start making unexpected movements. Seven hours later, I reached the end, and after drawing an arbitrary line between what was to be considered a grain of rice and what was a rice crumb, I counted 12,993 grains.

The extended time counting left me only an hour or so to “relax” until I had to repeat my exercises. I was really concerned this time because the combination of the long run and then sitting still for seven hours did a number on my legs. They were stiff and sore and sluggish. How in the world was I going to jump again for eight minutes? I sat on the floor facing my candle. I soon realized that it was a mistake to do so. The candle was going through one of its periodic sputtering phases as the wick became flooded with excess wax melted from the sides. Several times I thought it was going to go out and I was going to fail for such a trivial and stupid reason as a candle going out! I had to turn my back on the candle and hope for the best.

My monitors and my Master entered at eight PM and we began. This set of jumps was tough. I was winded and my legs were tired by three minutes.

“Keep jumping until your legs don’t work,” I told myself. I started tripping! Once, twice, three times. I jumped faster to compensate for the pause in the count.

Faster, faster.

Can’t breathe enough.

My tired eyes couldn't focus through all of the bouncing. I drew every bit of endurance I could from the Universe. I borrowed strength from my friends thinking of me. I reached deep inside and tapped every reserve I had. At seven minutes and forty seconds, my monitor called out 120. A few jumps later my Master called “Stop, you did it!”

Huffing and puffing, I threw my nemesis across the gym. The rope slid across the floor and lay there lifeless, defeated. On to the sit-ups- or as I thought of it: “rest time.” Ever since I passed the 200 mark in training, the sit-ups have not been a problem so it was a time to re-focus for the balance exercise which was going to be difficult after the run. The sit-ups and balance exercise went without issue and I passed what I thought was the last obstacle between me and my black belt.

My master spoke. “You passed the jump rope again! Doing an average of 140 each minute. I wasn’t going to fail you tonight if you didn’t pass this part. I even considered not making you jump. A fundamental philosophy of the Art of Bo Fung Do is ‘Not Today.’ You fought the fight last night and it is unrealistic to fight the fight and give it your all every night. So tonight, I’m giving you a reward for doing it again. I am lifting the sitting restriction for the rest of the test.”

The unexpected mercy caught me completely by surprise and I was overwhelmed with this one tiny luxury that I was granted. Despite the torturous nature of this test, I could not believe how well things have gone for me. My months of training and years of preparation and visualization were paying off. The test was going by the numbers and I was "in the zone." I realized then that the actual test was not happening now- the Test of the Spirit was my training. The days at the gym even when I didn't have the energy. Those tired afternoons after work when I had to keep doing sit-ups. Running three miles when my legs were cramped from the last run. Picking up the rope again after another trip. To keep fighting for my black belt for endless days on the treadmill, or in the weight room or on the aerobics floor- that's where my spirit was tested!

She then gave me the title of the poem that I had to write during the night already typed on a piece of paper:

“The Rope, The Rice and The Shadow- by Phil Medina.”

In addition, she gave me a book that I had to read. It was a short book, about one hundred pages long. I spent the remainder of the night alternating between reading the book and composing my poem. The title was an obvious reference (obvious to me) to my test. The Rope was the jump rope with which I have struggled for so long. The Rice was this portion of my test. And the Shadow was the inner anger I revealed as being one of my weaknesses during the first phase of this test months ago.

Between the composing and reading, the night passed quickly. However, I did have a few bouts of doziness. I combated this by reverting to catnaps in a sitting position as I did the night before. The uncomfortable position, kept me from getting too deep in sleep. As daylight began creeping into the gym again, the Head Master paid me a visit. He sat against one of the walls in the gym and we had some light conversation for a while and then he left to prepare for his day of teaching. Shortly after, my Master came in. She asked for my poem and then sent me out to the Plum Flower Poles.

At nine AM, I began the last physical part of my test. I had to stand on the Plum Flower Poles for two hours. The poles are a field of seventeen wooden poles buried in the ground. They are all of different widths and heights with the highest being about 30 inches high. I stood up on the first pole, time began and I was hit with a shockingly abrupt realization that this was not going to be easy. My shaky and tired legs could not stop quaking as I stood on the first pole. The pole was a little loose and shaky itself. The arches of my feet started cramping. “I have not come this far to fail now!” I told my self. “I’m not going through this again.” I had to stand on each pole for five minutes and up until now, it was the longest two and a half minutes ever. It demanded total concentration. I had to pick a spot on the ground to look at to keep my balance. A few times I almost lost it.

Finally, the first pole was done and I had to step to the next pole. A misstep here and it would be over. Step too hard and my foot slips off- over! I carefully bridged the gap to the next pole and straddled the two until I got the courage to bring both feet onto one pole. Pole two and three were also extremely tough. While standing on number three, my Master came out to check on me. I asked her if I was allowed to touch the walls or fence. When she said “yes” I inwardly told myself that I just passed the test! The vast majority of the remaining poles were on the perimeter of the field and I was able to lean on the fence or wall. There were only two more poles in the middle where I would need to balance upon them unaided. I planned to take the first of these just before my break at the one hour mark and the second, and more difficult one, when I come back fresh from a five minute break. I finished the course and had twenty-five minutes left to stand on any pole to reach the full two hours. I chose pole number seventeen which was comfortably close to the wall. Every once in a while I found myself getting too comfortable. The long hours of my test were adding up. I had to remind myself to remain focused. I shifted position to make it a little less comfortable. While standing on the last pole, my Master came out and gave me instructions for the last leg of my test. After the poles I was to go back to the room and use the time to memorize my poem. But first, I had to finish my pole standing. Not remembering if I started exactly at nine AM, I stayed on the poles an additional five minutes to make sure I wasn’t short.

I spent the next hour or so pacing in the room memorizing my lines. I cursed myself after each flub, each forgotten line, each misplaced section. I was finally able to recite the prose completely several times back-to-back with only pauses but no mistakes. As the final hour approached, my nerves grew. My heart pounded, adrenaline surged. This is it, I told myself. It comes down to this… and I better not mess up.

The moment finally came. I stood before my classmates at the end of their lesson. “I have a poem that I’d like to share with you,” I informed the students. “I wrote it using a Rhyme Royal rhyme scheme with iambic trimeter meter.”

“The Rope, The Rice, and the Shadow

“I’ve looked deep in my soul.
Saw the evil within-
A dark, shadowy hole.”

To my amazement, my mind started going blank- absolutely blank. A blankness like I have never experienced before. No words, no images flashed in my head!

“The rage that I keep in
Was like an angry twin.”

The lines came very slowly, I remembered them, slowly, one at a time.

“We are one and the same,
And this beast I will tame.

“With failure I’ve struggled
At the end of this rope.
Couldn’t jump- but juggled!
Never gave up my hope,
And on test day I’ll cope.
I will master this deed.
In the end I’ll succeed.”

I fixed my gaze at the floor in front of me, not daring to catch anyone’s eye. I was completely alone in a room full of people.

“My last test day arrives
And I’m sweating with fear.
Impossible times five!
I’ve struggled all year
And my goal is so near.
I feel it in my soul
I’ve accomplished my goal.”

At my last word, I stood there fixed on the mats before me. My heart stopped, breathing halted, time stood still. A hand reached into my vision and grasped mine.

“You passed!” came the firm yet gentle words.

The enormity of what I had just finished would not settle in for several weeks. I had reached a goal that I set eleven years earlier and could not even begin to know how to feel. Later that day, I received my black sash and one line of The Oath echoed, and continues to echo in my mind:

“This piece of cloth symbolizes not the end of an old journey, but the beginning of a new one.”