Signs That Tae Kwon Do Has Taken Over Your Life

By Steve Conway

The perceptive reader might notice that the few "signs" seem rather specific and may well conclude that the author is speaking from experience!

Scoring system based on the amount of times you answer yes:

0-5	You need to train more.
5-10	You still have a life, you need to work on this.
15-20	It's getting serious.
20-30	Let me recommend therapy.
30+	You are beyond all hope!

People find it difficult to carry on a conversation with you since you keep shifting between stances and practicing kicks while talking to them.
When tripping over your shoelaces you bounce up into fighting stance with a Kiup.
You answer your boss “Ussss.”
You tie your bathrobe belt like a uniform belt, making sure that the ends are exactly even and the right way round.
You go to sleep each night cuddling at least one martial arts weapon.
You insist on your partner tying their bathrobe belt like a uniform belt.
You accept change from the cashier using a perfect knife hand with the thumb carefully tucked in.
Every time you handle a screwdriver or razor knife, etc., you just can't help changing grip from hammer to reverse to flip over to dagger grip etc. And your shop assistant is standing cautiously far, far away from you.
When you're outside doing a bit of gardening, you "practice" with all the neat weapons.
You insist on showing your work colleagues your interesting set of bruises on your forearms and shins ever week.
You tell your Rugby playing mate he is a pansy because he won’t train due to a dislocated shoulder.
You enjoy limping into work and explaining what injury you got this week.
You shut the refrigerator door with a side thrust kick.
You open doors with front kicks.
Work chairs with high back are really good for practicing turning kicks.
You open a door with a front kick and the door bashes the boss as he is walking in.
The boss wants to know why the department has so many broken chairs.
Switching a light on or off requires a knife hand strike.
While using a knife hand strike to switch the lights on, you break the light switch and short out a fuse, leaving the house dark.
You shop for clothes based on whether you can kick in them.
The only clothes you'll wear are tight enough to reveal your fit physique but loose enough to spar in (when you get a spare minute).
You actually look forward to being told to work out on the bag.
The books in your toilet are Tae Kwon Do Patterns and Easy Korean for Beginners.
The Twelve Days of Christmas becomes one boxing bag, two boxing gloves, three shin pads (includes an extra pad for the one you'll inevitably lose), four Tokaido gi's, five rolls of adhesive tape...twelve cases of Tiger Balm.
You look for a place to live based on the amount of practice space it provides.
While practicing patterns, you do an upper block and shatter the glass light fitting (needing several stitches and leaving the room in the dark).
You look for a place to live based on the amount of head room it provides.
In a boring meeting, you start practicing staff techniques with a pencil.
You refuse to wear shoes and look scornfully aloof on those that need to during class.
As your classmate withers in pain on the floor, you fantasize about the quickest way to put him out of their misery.
You tell beginners that care is need not to be too aggressive, after you flatten some poor sod that tries to hit you.
While sparring with beginners you keep stopping to tell them that they are not hitting you hard enough.
When all your injuries heal, you go through withdrawals.
You view new students as fresh meat.
You look forward to working another technique line.
You eagerly volunteer to be the instructor’s demonstration assistant.
You believe that one and half hours is far too short for a training session.
You enjoyed your last grading test.
You say to the shop assistant in the men's store, "nice pants, but I don't think I can kick in them."
"What was I doing in my office when I was spinning around and flailing my arms and legs? Ahhhhhmmmmmmm...."
The only way to open and close doors is with spinning kicks.
You have begun to master the reflex to commit a very messy murder when directly after someone finds out you practice martial arts, they immediately ask, "are you a Black Belt?"
You have reached the phase of seeing everybody walking around with blinking little red cross-hairs on all their vital spots
The only way to operate a lift is to backfist the correct floor button on the inside of the elevator, based on your memory of the button's location before you get in far enough to see it.
The local orthopaedic surgeons ask you take it easy because you are increasing their waiting lists.
Your email tag line is: Pain is Joy.