I used to be rather timid. Bullies picked on me, I shied away from making friends, and I accepted whatever opportunities came my way by chance. I never stood up for myself, I spent a lot of time alone, and I didn't fight for the chance to experience anything. By midway through my teens, though, I began to speak up and I met some very interesting and influential people who helped me change the way that I see things. I began to realize that some of the most inspirational people in the world were using different words to say the same thing: “Why not go out on a limb? That's where the fruit is,” and “The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,” are a couple by Mark Twain and Theodore Roosevelt, respectively.

It was about this time that I had my first trials on the mat. I had been practicing judo for a few months. Bumps and bruises marked the way to throws and pins. I was terrified of fighting the other boys because I bottomed out in my weight class. Nevertheless, my dad pushed me out of my chair and onto the mat with a pat on my shoulder. My palms sweatted, my knees grew weak, I couldn't see the referee, and I barely heard him give the command to begin. I advanced, I grappled, and I fell in defeat. After paying my respects, I exited the mat with my emotion welling up. I didn't understand what my dad meant by “good job.” He explained that I didn't die, my opponent hadn't taken anything away from me, and I was still just as healthy as before the fight. He helped me understand the adrenaline reactions I had right before the fight and gave me some tips on how to focus in spite of them. Because the tournament was double-elimination, I still had one more bout. I also lost that one. In fact, it wasn't until my third tournament before I finally placed, and several more before I earned the first place.

The lessons I learned on the mat in the years after my first tournament have translated into a unifying thought that governs most of my decisions. Don't be afraid to accept a challenge. Study, plan, prepare, and engage. Whether I testing for a belt, fighting in tournaments, or later taking over a failing restaurant, I knew that only by accepting challenges would I experience the distinction of victory, and without the distinction of victory, no matter how small, I would be incredibly bored.

Much later, and recently, I made the decision to return to school. After thirteen years, I certainly experienced trepidation and considered many unknowns. It was obvious, though, that if I didn't confront them then I would forever wonder “what if?” I expect my education to lead me on to more challenges, some of which will leave me with the taste of dirt in my mouth, and some with no other reward than the pride of standing my ground and the confidence to move forward that only comes with a third tournament.