10/04/2025
I unashamedly borrowed this and adapted it to suit our art and organisation, please read:
Choose Your Hard
TaeKwonDo is hard.
That’s the truth. Not the polished version of the photos that friends click or on social media. I mean the real, uncomfortable truth that only hits when your uniform is soaked with sweat, your legs are burning, and you’re wondering why you’ve dragged yourself to class again.
It’s hard to walk through the dojang doors when you’ve had a bad day.
Hard to line up when you know you’re going to be pushed.
Hard to repeat the same technique again and again and still not get it right.
Hard to be corrected. Harder still to correct yourself.
Hard to face someone in pattern work who’s faster, sharper, more experienced, and even harder when it’s someone newer who gets the better of you.
Hard to fall. Hard to fail. Hard to try again.
Hard to ask your Instructor for help when your pride’s whispering you should already know.
But here’s the thing. Everything that’s worth doing is hard.
We don’t grow by doing what’s easy. We grow by doing the difficult stuff, the uncomfortable stuff, the things we’d rather avoid.
And TaeKwonDo gives us plenty of those.
It’s hard to stay consistent. To train when it’s cold, when you’re tired, when life’s kicking you from all directions.
It’s hard to be honest with yourself when you’ve been going through the motions. Hard to admit you didn’t give it your best. Hard to watch someone else move forward quicker than you, not because they’re more talented, but because they put the work in.
It’s hard to accept the limits of your body, especially when injuries, age or other challenges change what you’re capable of. But it’s also hard to let those things stop you altogether.
It’s hard to take responsibility for your progress, instead of blaming your schedule, your energy, the class, or your partner.
It’s hard being in a slump, where nothing seems to click.
Hard not to understand something when others seem to pick it up straight away.
Hard to ask for extra support.
Hard to give your full effort in a slow, technical session when you’re itching to go flat out and get a sweat on.
Hard to help others when you’re still trying to find your own feet.
Hard to stand by your Instructor when you don’t see eye to eye on everything.
Hard to keep turning up once you’ve got your black belt, especially when the buzz wears off and the real work begins.
Hard to stay loyal to your class, your dojang, your organisation, when something newer, shinier or more exciting is calling for your attention.
Hard to reduce your training to less than you’d like, not because you’ve lost interest, but because your family, your work, or your mental health needs a bit more of you right now.
But choosing that kind of hard? That’s what makes you better.
For children, TaeKwonDo teaches life skills no school can drill into them.
It teaches them to do what they don’t want to do. To try again after failing. To listen, reflect and improve. It builds resilience, confidence and discipline. Real discipline, not the type that ticks a box, but the sort that makes them bow in and keep going even when they feel like turning around and going home.
That kind of growth doesn’t come from collecting medals. It comes from all the small, unseen moments. The mistakes. The repetitions. The uncomfortable truths. The little choices made when no one else is looking.
For adults, it sharpens you.
Training makes you confront your ego. Your self doubt. Your assumptions. It holds a mirror up, and sometimes, you don’t like what you see. But if you stick with it, you learn how to keep going when it’s uncomfortable. You learn how to hold yourself together when everything’s falling apart. How to breathe when you feel under pressure. How to stay balanced when life wants to knock you over, in and out of the dojang.
You learn to be a student again. That’s humbling. In the best way possible.
And all of it carries over.
You start raising the bar for yourself at work.
You start responding better in difficult conversations.
You start making wiser choices, because you’ve practised choosing the hard route instead of the easy one.
You stop giving up so quickly, because now you know, deep down, that the struggle is part of the process.
That’s why experienced black belts still choose hard.
Not because they enjoy suffering, but because they’ve seen what it creates.
They’ve felt the transformation that only comes from facing challenges head on, from doing the uncomfortable thing again and again. They’ve tasted the satisfaction that isn’t handed out, it’s earned, through consistency, humility, and hard work.
They still train. Still fall. Still learn.
Because they know there’s no finish line. No point where it suddenly becomes easy.
Just deeper layers of the same lessons. More subtle truths. More chances to grow.
So if you’re finding it hard, good.
That means you’re in it. You’re doing it right.
You’re choosing your hard.
The only question is, will you keep choosing it?
Because missing training is hard too.
Drifting away is hard.
Quitting is hard.
Regret is hard.
Wishing you’d kept going, that’s hard.
Letting fear decide for you is hard.
Watching someone else live the life you wanted is hard.
So choose your hard.
Choose the hard that shapes you. The one that challenges you. The one that makes you into someone you’re proud to be.
TaeKwonDo isn’t meant to be easy. But that’s exactly why it matters.
Borrowed from Richard Hang Hong, adapted by AMI Darren Hassan