No matter how good the instructor and instructions, you must put in your own time to train and practice, especially these days. You can squeeze in time to train. I used to walk to class daily--a distance of approximately 5 miles. Master Hankins used to tell us the story of a Hsing-I master, Shang Yun-hsiang, who would train the 20 miles, to and from his teacher's house, barefooted, with his shoes draped around his neck, while Shang practiced the "half bamboo step." After awhile, I noticed that it seemed every time Master Hankins told the story, he would look directly at me. Finally, the light bulb went off.
So, instead of just walking to class, I would train on the way to class, practicing a technique or doing some drill to utilize the time. For three months at a time, I would practice the same thing. For example, I would hold some weights in my hand and practice striking techniques all the way to class. I wouldn’t put my arms down to rest them, just kept them up. At times, it felt like 10,000 needles were sticking in my arms.
It seemed every night, on the way back home, When I was close to home, going across the Campostella bridge, my arms would have the most needles pricking them. I would have the urge to throw those weights into the river below. But the thought that Master Hankins would make me dive into the water to retrieve those weights (I figured he wouldn’t let me replace them), was deterrent enough to force me to continue with weights in my hands. Eventually, my arms would return to normal, and I would be home. After three months of this, I had a much quicker and devastating striking technique.
For another three months, I would punch every telephone post along the route to class with my right hand (a distance of approximately 5 miles). On the way home (unless I was fortunate enough to get a ride), I would punch every telephone post with my left hand. A telephone post is not as forgiving as a makiwara. There were many telephone posts along the route. I developed a formidable punch, I couldn’t even punch a person in play without doing tenable damage.
I remember after three months of punching telephone posts, I reached the corner of 35th & Newport for the final pole. A police car with two officers were watching me. I was in my usual ill-tempered mood after such a punishing training regimen. I glared at the two officers and then delivered a shocking punch to the pole. By then, my technique was good enough that the lamp on top of the pole visibly shook. The two officers looked at the lamp, looked at each other in disbelief, then sped off. I knew my punch was pretty good then.
I would train while watching television shows. I would stay in a stance while watching a show, and do push-ups, leg lifts, or some other exercise when a commercial came on. Even if sitting somewhere, like in a movie theater, I could practice and perfect a blocking technique or something.
Training was a ritualistic routine like personal hygiene. I just did it. The by-product of such training became quite evident. I would practice a technique over and over and over and over and over until I got tired and bored with it, then I would practice it over and over and over and over and over until I found comfort in doing it. It would become a natural reflex action. I only wish I would have dedicated as much time to stretching--I could use the flexibility now.
Everyone I know, who was ever any good at martial arts, put in extra time training. My senior student and classmate, Jack Dark, III, now a master himself with his own school, used to run or ride his bicycle to class, arrive early to train, train with the class, train after class, then run or ride his bike home. Some days, we would put in extra training sessions, or leave 35th Street dojo after class and go to practice with Sifu Duncan Leung at his Wing Chun class.
Jack would train so hard, Marines fresh out of boot camp, or champion body builders could not keep up with him training. He would be so quick and elusive, fighting him would be like fighting a ghost--a ghost who could hurt you at will and evade any attack you launched.
You had to be dedicated (or crazy) to go through such training as our Grandmaster Hankins had in store for you. But you would receive remarkable results. He would often say, “If you stick with me, you’ll be in such good shape, you could run in the Kentucky Derby. You might not win it--but you’ll be in it.”
Train harder and more frequently. It has rewards and by-products you cannot imagine.
