My alarm clock shrieked, I shot up abruptly. 5 A.M. “Today is the day.” I ran downstairs to devour a hearty bowl of Special K, a banana, and a glass of milk. After my daily binge, I ran back upstairs, put on my freshly ironed uniform, wrapped my belt around my shoulders, grabbed my sparring gear, and rushed out to the car. I was on my way to school, my martial arts school, that is. My mom dropped me off and I shuffled into the van with my team. There were four of us, including my Sensei, who was driving. We were on our way to Branford, Connecticut for the 5th Annual Connecticut Shoreline Martial Arts Championships. My stomach twisted and turned rigorously the whole way there. I repeated, “You’ve competed in tournaments before, don’t be nervous. It’s all in your head, girl. Keep your eyes on the prize,” over a thousand times in my head, but nothing worked. The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering frantically and I begged them to stop.

We had finally approached the building and we were just in time to sign in. I grabbed a form, sat on the ground, and filled it out. Standard sign-in form: Name, Age, School, Competition, and Rank. The tournament had three competitions: Forms, Weaponry, and Sparring. I circled “Sparring” and took a long, deep, uneasy breath. The ranks went from Beginner (white, yellow, and orange belts), Intermediate (blue, green, and purple belts), Advanced (red and brown belts), and Black belt (only black belts can compete). Because I was a brown belt, I was put into the Advanced rank for 15-17 year olds. I scribbled my name at the bottom and handed in my sheet. The woman at the table gave me a red wristband and wished me luck. “Thanks, I need it,” I thought.

I walked into the enormous auditorium and saw all the different rings; there had to be at least thirty. I sat on the top of the bleachers so I could see every ring. There were schools from all over the East Coast and even farther. I started to get psyched out again, so I walked out of the auditorium, and into an empty hallway. It was meditation time. I sat on the floor, closed my eyes, and took another long, deep breath. This was MY time; the only time I had all to myself. No stress, no pressure, all my worries vanished. The butterflies that were fluttering frantically in my stomach had floated away. My mind was at ease and all I could focus on was how great it would feel to win this fight. I was set. I began to stretch: left side, right side, middle, straddle, split. I put on my red sparring gloves and took some practice shots on the cinderblock wall. I was ready. “There’s no way I’m leaving here without the win.”

The huge room filled with the scratchy, gritty sound of the loudspeaker, “15 THRU 17 ADVANCED SPARRING, RING 11.” My head shot up, my Sensei looked at me and said, “That’s you, kid. Gear up.” I put on the essential sparring equipment: helmet, mouthpiece, gloves, chest protector, shin pads, and sparring shoes. I bowed into the ring. Only one other girl showed up. This meant that there would only be one 2 minute round. Tons of pressure. She was my only opponent. She was a brown belt, but taller than me by about five inches and much heavier. I started to get nervous. “She’s bigger, probably stronger.” The butterflies rushed back into my stomach. I began to sweat and the fight hadn’t even started yet. My Sensei pulled me aside and gave me a pep talk to put my mind back at ease. “You have nothing to be afraid of,” he said. “You’re better than most of the boys in class and they’re a whole foot taller than you. You’re not afraid of them, are you?” I shook my head ‘no’. “I know you can do this.” He patted my helmet and stood behind the ring. This was it.

The main judge brought my opponent and I together in the ring. “Bow, courtesy,” he said. My opponent and I bowed to our judges, then to each other and shook hands. “One point punch, two point kick, three point spin. Judges ready? Opponents ready? GO.” I was on my bounce, ready for anything she threw. She went in for a blitz and I hit her with a sidekick. “STOP,” said the main judge. At this very moment I knew that I would win this fight. She didn’t bounce: she was flat-footed. This meant that no matter how fast she was, I was faster because I was always on my toes. The judges awarded me with two points. “GO.” I bounced, she stayed flat. She looked at my feet, I looked in her eyes. I hit her with a one-two-shuffle axe kick that she didn’t even see coming. “STOP.” The judges awarded me with another two points. “GO.” I quickly ran up to her as soon as the main judge said go and hit her with a blitz. I saw it in her face, she was astonished and quickly infuriated, which is the worst thing you can be in a match because you can lose your head very easily. The judges gave me a point. “GO.” Her eyes lit with raging fire as she approached me. She kicked me as hard as she could in the back, which is extremely illegal. “STOP!!!!! ILLEGAL MOVE, POINT FOR OPPONENT.” She was about to break down in tears right then. At that moment, the timer went off and the match was over. The score was 6-0. We bowed to our judges, bowed to each other and she slapped my hand and walked away. I was awarded with a 3ft tall First Place trophy and the everlasting memory of how good it felt to win.