A faint twinge of excitement floated through my body that night. A hint of anticipation

of the coming day could not be suppressed; yet to be overcome with anxiety would not

do at all. I arduously forced those pernicious thoughts from seeping in and overcoming

my body and mind. I still wonder that I slept at all that night.

But I did. I slept soundly and comfortably as those nervous deliberations crept into my

defenseless, unsuspecting mind, pilfering my calm composure. When I awoke

refreshed, I found my mind swarming with jumbled exhilaration. The adrenaline was

flowing already.

After a quick breakfast, I pulled some of my gear together and headed out. The car ride

of two hours seemed only a few moments as I struggled to reinstate order in my chaotic

consciousness and focus my mind on the day before me. My thoughts drifted to the

indistinct shadows of my memory.

My opponent's name was John Doe. There were other competitors at the tournament,

but they had never posed any threat to my title. For as long as I had competed in this

tournament, I had easily taken the black belt championship in my division. John,

however, was the most phenomenal martial artist I had ever had the honor of

witnessing at my young age of thirteen. And he was in my division. Although he was

the same rank, age, size, and weight as I, he surpassed me in almost every aspect of our

training. His feet were lightning, and his hands were virtually invisible in their agile

swiftness. He wielded the power of a bear while appearing no larger than I. His form

and techniques were executed with near perfection. Although I had never defeated his

flawlessness before, victory did not seem unattainable. For even though he was

extraordinary, he was not much more talented than I. I am not saying that he was not

skilled or even that he was not more skilled than I, for he most certainly was, but just

not much more than I. I still had one hope, however little, of vanquishing this incredible

adversary, for John had one weakness: he was lazy. He didn't enjoy practicing long

hours or working hard. He didn't have to. Nevertheless, I had found my passage to

triumph.

My mind raced even farther back to all my other failures. I must admit that my record

was not very impressive. Never before had I completed anything. I played soccer. I quit.

I was a Cub Scout. I quit. I played trumpet. I quit. Karate was all I had left. The

championship meant so much because I had never persevered with anything else.

In the last months, I had trained with unearthly stamina and determination. I had

focused all my energies into practicing for this sole aspiration. Every day of the week I

trained. Every evening, I could be found kicking, blocking, and punching at an

imaginary opponent in my room. Hours of constant drilling had improved my

techniques and speed. All my techniques were ingrained to the point where they were

instinctive. Days and weeks passed too swiftly. . . .

I was abruptly jolted back into the present. The car was pulling into the parking lot. The

tournament had too quickly arrived, and I still did not feel prepared for the trial which I

was to confront. I stepped out of the car into the bright morning sun, and with my

equipment bag in hand, walked into the towering building.

The day was a blur. After warming up and stretching, I sat down on the cold wooden

floor, closed my eyes, and focused. I cleared my mind of every thought, every worry,

and every insecurity. When I opened my eyes, every sense and nerve had become sharp

and attentive, every motion finely tuned and deliberate.

The preliminary rounds were quiet and painless, and the championship fight was

suddenly before me. I could see that John looked as calm and as confident as ever.

Adrenaline raced through my body as I stepped into the ring. We bowed to each other

and to the instructor, and the match began.

I apologize, but I do not recall most of the fight. I do faintly remember that when time

ran out the score was tied, and we were forced to go into Sudden Death: whoever

scored the next point would win. That, however, I do recall.

I was tired. The grueling two points that I had won already had not been enough. I

needed one more before I could taste triumph. I was determined to win, though I had

little energy remaining. John appeared unfazed, but I couldn't allow him to discourage

me. I focused my entire being, my entire consciousness, on overcoming this invincible

nemesis. I charged. All my strenuous training, every molecule in my body, every last

drop of desire was directed, concentrated on that single purpose as I exploded through

his defenses and drove a solitary fist to its mark.

I was not aware that I would never fight John again, but I would not have cared. Never

before had I held this prize in my hands, but through pure, salty sweat and vicious

determination, the achievement that I had desired so dearly and which meant so much

to me was mine at last. This was the first time that I had ever really made a notable

accomplishment in anything. This one experience, this one instant, changed me forever.

That day I found self-confidence and discovered that perseverance yields its own sweet

fruit. That day a sense of invincibility permeated the air. Mountains were nothing. The

sun wasn't so bright and brilliant anymore. For a moment, I was the best.