However, in third grade, my father decided to sign me up for the school’s Taekwondo club. He believed I should learn a form of self-defense, so he contacted the coach and arranged for me to begin training at the dojo. At first, I found it really difficult to adjust. During summer break, I had to train almost every day. Under the scorching sun, I would run laps around the track, do strength training, stretch, and more. For someone like me who had never exercised regularly, it was exhausting and overwhelming.

Sometimes, we had to memorize complex kicking combinations, or join intense pre-competition training sessions where the coach would shout at us non-stop. Every practice was intense and draining—after each one, I would be soaked in sweat, my clothes clinging to my back like a wet rag.

Soon enough, my first competition arrived. I still remember it clearly—it was a chilly, overcast day. I walked nervously into the venue, instantly engulfed by the loud and chaotic noise of the crowd. My anxiety spiked. After a quick warm-up and a last-minute review, I stepped onto the mat. I was shaking with nerves, and I still remember the uncomfortable feeling of the fabric rubbing against my skin. Lacking experience, I ended up finishing in last place. Looking back now, I really did perform quite poorly.

What surprised me, though, was that I didn’t give up. Instead, I kept going. After countless hours of practice, I eventually beat 12 competitors in a national tournament and won the championship. I’m grateful that I stepped out of my comfort zone and pushed myself to train. In the end, the effort paid off—and I finally achieved something to be proud of.