Putting on a White Belt Again

 I'm in my 60s, I hold black belts in Shotokan (3rd dan), Judo (5th dan), and Kajukenbo (8th dan), yet here I am, brand new to Kyokushin Karate—and enjoying every brutal second of it. After surviving being hit, run over, dragged, and crushed by a semi-truck, with doctors saying my martial arts days were done, Kyokushin's ethos feels like it was made for me. It's not just training; it's proof that real toughness isn't handed out—it's forged in fire.

 The raw grind of Kyokushin just hits different. No padded gloves, no pulling punches—just honest contact that dumps the semi accident's ghosts and daily stress into something I control. As a white belt, I feel those beginner gains again—the power building session by session. It's addictive, especially after decades of coaching others.

I reject cross-rank shortcuts and McDojo nonsense, I've called out fast-tracked frauds. I have no desire to be a one year black belt. Starting from scratch in Kyokushin honors the grind, years of hard work. I reject special "considerations" for  previous experience. No special treatment here, just sweat equity. I'm the new guy again, not the coach or sensei or experienced martial artist. My cup is empty I am a beginner. For a guy like me, whose exposed fakes and mcdojos, authenticity is everything. Frauds wouldn't put a white belt on in the first place. They certainly wouldn't take on what I am. 

Osu no Seishin—the indomitable spirit. It resonates, it echoes my survival. Kyokushin demands you push through pain, fatigue, and getting lit up, just like crawling out from under the semi truck that hit and ran me over. Every low kick toughens my shins, every body shot builds iron abs, turning random trauma into chosen power. Bruises? They're badges I pick, not surprises. Kyokushin channels my post-accident resilience with a bare-knuckle ferocity that softer karateka and frauds can't even touch.

Kyokushin just fits, a rough and rugged fit for an older athlete who lives biomechanics and explosiveness. Raw, full-contact training with zero bullshit that forge scars into unbreakable supremacy, a spirit that doesn't bend. Several years ago the doctors said I was done; I proved them wrong and still am. Osu.