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Brendan Richards
I started training
at Farnham in February 2007, at the age of 35. It was an eventful
period – the same week I began a degree in psychology. The two were
not unrelated. Both professionally and personally I’d grown bored
and lacking in drive and motivation. Stuff needed changing.
Joining the Farnham
club was not my first experience of karate. Like many people of my
age, that first Karate Kid film came at an influential time. I
watched it with a mate who did Shotokan at our school gym on
Sundays, and it just seemed like a cool thing to try out –
particularly as I had been bullied a lot and didn’t really know how
to handle such situations. I seem to remember enjoying the classes a
lot, but sadly, it was all too expensive for a kid with not much
pocket money. I got two red stripes on my white belt before I had to
give it up. For a year or so, I thought I’d start again when I could
get a bit more cash together. But at the age of 16, I heard ‘It’s So
Easy’ by Guns n’ Roses for the first time, and EVERYTHING else in
life immediately paled into insignificance!
I thought about
karate now and then in my 20s, but it didn’t really fit with the
whole skinny, guitar-boy thing, and it wasn’t until me and my
girlfriend moved out from London and bought a house in Surrey a few
years back, that I began to consider martial arts again. After years
of being in bands, I’d been looking for something to ‘fill the gap’
for some time, something to commit my energies to (other than the
9-5). Mentally and physically, I needed to feel a lot better.
I did a few i nternet
searches, and settled on the Surrey karate clubs for two reasons –
firstly their website looked the best, and secondly my Gran used to
live in Farnham. As I recall, I then sat on the idea for some months
– worried about being too old, too thin, having funny-shaped toes
etc. Eventually though, I summoned up the guts to call the
instructor, who was immediately reassuring, and told me all about
the workings of the club. “The hardest thing you do in karate in
walk through those doors for the first time,” I remember him saying.
And that was that. I thought I’d give it a go.
The thing I
remember from the first few sessions is that I didn’t really feel
like a ‘new guy’ at someone else’s club. I was just another person
training. In this sense, slotting in was easier than I had expected.
Of course, the black and brown belts were extremely impressive, and
I found it difficult at times not to become self-conscious. What you
come to realise is that karate is a personal journey, so while
obviously there are friendships and camaraderie at the club, you are
not joining a team. You do not let others down by making mistakes.
Indeed, it’s interesting that as you move up through the hierarchy
of the club through grading, the increasing realisation of how much
you have yet to learn (for example, when you get the privilege of
training with someone like Sensei Wayne Otto, the England coach)
serves to counter any smugness for what you may have achieved to
date. I am not saying you will never come across arrogance in
karate, but it does seem to a natural control for it.
Fast-forward a few
years and, in July 2009, I got my purple belt (4th kyu), which I was
absolutely deligh ted
about, followed by first brown belt (3rd kyu) in June 2010. At the
moment, and particularly since the January 2010
Sensei Wayne Otto seminar, I’m finding myself thinking about karate
most days – running through pair-work or moves that might work in
competition scenarios. I’ll usually practice something or other each
day, even if it’s a quick combination across the kitchen on the way
to the kettle! It certainly hasn’t been uncommon to see me
doing the fiddly bits of Pinan Godan by
the water cooler at work.
Of course, training
can sometimes also be frustrating. I do enjoy kata, but I find some
of the ju-jitsu elements of what we do (locks and control etc) quite
hard to get my head round. It’s an area I am improving at, but needs
work – and less self-consciousness. Really, though, I’m a sparring
kind-of-guy, and I’m happiest with a set of red mitts on, doing a
bit of jiyu kumite or competition (though if your opponent happens
to be your instructor or one of the most experienced students, your
happiness tends to be short-lived!).
The club itself is
great, and I’ve met some really good people in my few years training
at the Wado Academy. I can only repeat what others have said on this
website about the qualities of the instructors at the clubs. They
are committed instructors, constantly devising new (and sometimes
punishing) ways of putting us through it every week. No two lessons
are ever the same – something which I am convinced pushes me and
provides the drive to keep training hard.
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