Turning 40: Kicking My Way Through

June 12, 2010, By Jason Avant 0 comments

Jason Avant

I launch a kick at my target and in that split second before it makes contact I know I’ve done it wrong. The board’s maybe an inch thick, but it might as well be a piece of battleship plating. What should strike it: my heel. What does: my last two toes. I hear a crunch. I suppress a grunt. My instructor – who’s gripping the board – gives me a smile with a hint of a smirk. There’s encouragement on his face, mixed with smug satisfaction. I’d kicked him in the hands on my previous two attempts. I bow, and prepare for my next kick. “Last one”, he says.

I approached my 40th birthday with flinty-eyed determination; I wasn’t about to become a stereotype, all beer gut and sandals with black socks, yelling at the neighborhood kids to turn down their damn rock 'n' roll music. I was in good shape – 3 days a week at the gym, and surfing whenever I got the chance. I even had a list – my one concession to cliché, 40 Interesting Things I Was Going To Do Before I Hit 41. Turning 40 is a big deal; for many men, it’s a watershed, the moment in their lives where moving forward, everything’s downhill. If that was the case, I was going to treat that downhill ride like it was a roller coaster, my hands in the air, whooping and grinning until I reached the bottom.

That was a year ago. The days rolled by, filled with deadlines, reports, meetings. I was usually too tired to go to the gym. Surfing went from being a regular pastime to an occasional treat. As for the beer gut and black socks – well, one out of two ain’t bad. There were some victories, but for the most part, year 40 was marked by ennui. The list went largely untouched, and the things I did…well, in hindsight, most of them weren’t particularly interesting (unless you’re fascinated by the Growing A Moustache Process, or have always wanted to make your own lox). April 2010 rolled around, and I was determined to salvage something. I decided to resume martial arts training.

Eight years ago, I’d been a student at a local Tang Soo Do studio. I was progressing nicely – after several months, I’d earned my third belt (Orange), and was getting ready to test for my next one when disaster struck. While attempting a jumping kick, my right knee buckled, and that was that – my martial arts career was over. Or so I thought. Flash forward to late 2008 – my son, then 4, starting taking Tang Soo Do lessons. I took him a few times a week, and the thought began bouncing around in my head: “I bet I could do that.” And so last month I took the plunge; I signed the forms (do I agree not to sue the do-jon if I have a heart attack while trying to execute a high block/middle punch combo?), got my uniform and resumed my martial arts training.

I won’t lie to you, I feel my age. Doing jump kicks is not a natural act, especially for a 40-year-old. The classes were brutal – push-ups, sit-ups, running, kicks punches, blocks, repeat. I came home with a sodden uniform, looking like I’d been thrown in a river. I was training alongside teenagers and kids my son’s age; Lucas and I were in the same group, and his laughing “Dad, you’re sweaty!” comment after each session belied a different concern – there was honest fear in his eyes, fear that I was really going to keel over. At first, I was worried about that as well. But I kept at it. And gradually, it started getting easier.

Deep breath. My instructor: “Don’t focus on the board. Focus on the kick. Kick through the board.” I look around the studio, at the kids who are staring wide-eyed at this crazy, sweaty old guy. My birthday’s in less than a week. 41. Just a number, really. My heel slices the board in two.

Jason Avant is the founder and managing editor of DadCentric.com. He is a frequent contributor to ManoftheHouse.com.