Yesterday I quit my martial arts classes.

This was hard for me to do. I’ve been doing martial arts for half my life, and it’s tough to give them up. But the fact is, I was no longer enjoying them. Back when I was in high school, I thought about martial arts all the time. I’d read about them, think about them, and practice them every chance I got. For the last six months or so, I haven’t thought about them at all, except to dread going down Monday nights for my class. I have lots of sports and instructional DVDs relating to martial arts, and I haven’t wanted to watch any of them. I thought maybe I was just in a slump, and that I just had to stick with it before I’d start enjoying it again. But six months is too long a slump to keep doing something that costs money and isn’t any fun. I can see doing it to acquire something worthwhile – a school degree, for instance – but I just don’t value the ability to fight anymore. When I was 15, I felt threatened, and so valued it. When I was 25, my buddies and I liked a friendly fight for fun. Now, though, I’m a college professor, and I just don’t value those skills.

Every Monday I drove an hour south, worked out for an hour and a half, and drove back for an hour. This pretty much killed the evening for me. I was always incredibly sore, and frequently had bruises or other injuries. I often felt great for the first hour or so after I finished the workout, so on the way home, I’d say to myself, “I’m really glad I went tonight!” But then I’d dread going the next week. I finally realized I didn’t have fun doing the actual sport, I just enjoyed the endorphin high when I finished. Heck, I can get an endorphin high by running, save a lot of money, and get in better cardiovascular shape, to boot.

Even with the complete lack of enjoyment of the activity, I still found it hard to quit. After having done them for half my life, my self-image is wrapped up in them. Despite not having fun in class, I liked to be able to say “See that stuff on TV? I do that! See that guy on TV? He’s in my class!” I did the real stuff. I wasn’t a big talker, a poser, or anything else. I really did it. I may not have been very good, but I knew how good I was – it wasn’t an unknown quantity for me. But after quitting, it would change – now, I’m no longer someone who “does that;” now I’m someone who “did that.” I know how good I am, now. A year from now, I’ll know how good I was when I quit – how good I remain will have become a mysterious, unknown quantity. The point is, I no longer care, really, what the value of that quantity is. It’s just that I’ve cared about it for so long, a lot of my habits are built around it.

Instead of paying monthly, my school uses six-month contracts. My contract was up for renewal in February, and I just couldn’t stomach the thought of six more miserable months. So I quit. I’ve been at this school for a year, and I’m glad I did it. I’ve learned a lot, and am now MUCH more skilled at fighting than I ever have been – even when I was a black belt weightlifting senior in high school. Now, though, I’m moving on. I don’t really have any desire to fight (for real or as a sport), nor do I have any desire to teach it. I quit, and I’m glad I did that, as well.