The Task:
Light a candle and keep lit for entire test
Jump rope for 8 minutes straight
200 situps
Stand on a balance board for 10 minutes
Recite the 4 principles of the school every hour without alarms
Run a ½ marathon
Count a bowl of rice with tweezers
Jump rope for 8 minutes straight
200 situps
Stand on a balance board for 10 minutes
Recite the 4 principles of the school every hour without alarms
Read a book
Write and memorize a poem
Stand on poles for 2 hours
Recite poem

The time for celebration and rest did not last long. A week later, I had my last test in my hands. The Test of the Spirit. Willpower and determination will be pushed to the limit. The Test of the Spirit was always the wild card because it can encompass almost anything- as long as the student finds it unpleasant every step of the way.

I was instructed to reflect about myself and describe my five greatest weaknesses. What makes one weakness greater than another? Physical weakness? Mental weakness? Weakness of personality, judgment, character? I chose one physical weakness, my colorblondness because it seems to affect so many aspects of my life. Besides that, the other weaknesses I chose to list were personality problems. As I listed those, I realized the hidden challenge to eradicate these kinds of weaknesses that we have some control over. A week later I submitted my list.

A few days after, I received my next set of instructions. List weakness that others would perceive in me. The problem I had with this one was one of perception. If others view something as a weakness, is it really a weakness in me or in other’s perception in me. In the end, they are the same since intent is irrelevant and perception is what you must deal with. This list of weaknesses was a combination of my first list and a few new character flaws.

When I submitted this list, my next task was given to me. How would I fix these flaws that I see in myself. My first thought when I looked at the latest test was “is this ever going to be over? Is this the whole test to see if I get tired of question after question with no hint of how long this will go on?” I grew frustrated but soon got over it and got to work.

The other shoe finally dropped when I submitted the answers to the last set of questions and I was given the actual task of my Test of the Spirit. When I read what I had to do, the blood drained from my hands as they held the paper- and that was before I had a chance to let the magnitude of the tasks sink in. I was to spend an entire weekend at the school confined in one of the rooms. On the first evening I had to perform a series of exercises, each of which was probably beyond my limits at the moment of reading the test. To my horror, my first task was to jump rope for eight minutes-EIGHT MINUTES! I couldn’t get past 2 minutes last month for the previous part. It was evident that the Black Belts who write each test talk to each other. After the jump rope, I needed to do 200 sit-ups within ten minutes. The final exercise was to do a kung-fu exercise called “sticking hands” with a partner for ten minutes while standing on a balance board. Essentially it was to touch wrist-to-wrist with a partner and try to slip your arm past them to strike while they attempt to do the same. The balance board forced you to stand on your toes with your heels elevated for the entire exercise.

After the exercise portion, I was to sit on the floor either on my knees or on crossed legs until 9 AM the next morning. To make sure that I don’t get completely rested, I had to recite the basic principles of the school out loud every hour without using any sort of alarm to wake me or as a reminder.

At 9 AM, I was to complete a half-marathon in under two and a half hours. Upon, my return to the school I had to count rice using tweezers to transfer the rice from one container to another. Although the amount of rice was unspecified, I’m sure it was to be a sizeable amount. After the rice count, I had to repeat the exercise portion from the night before. On the second morning, I had to spend two hours perched on the tops of short poles in the school’s yard. The final step of the test was to recite a poem that I had composed during the test in my “spare time” from memory.

I was given the test on a Sunday. Monday after school, I was in the gym talking to a personal trainer. Phil Filmore was a wrecking ball! A fine specimen of a man, Phil was a boxer with zero body fat and what appeared to be muscles that were not catalogued on any anatomy charts. The following day I was in sweats and standing in a gym for the first time in close to ten years. My trainer was a drill sergeant. He worked me for a pathetic hour. I jumped rope for 8 minutes with so many trips that he lost count after 50 or so times. In a full ten minutes I got 75 sit-ups done. I was a huffing heap at the end of a leisurely mile jog. The only encouragement came from the balance board which I mastered in my first try.

The following day I was back at the gym with my trainer. Today we worked on the weights doing a total body workout. That night, I had difficulty sleeping because I was sore in places I didn’t even know had muscles. I trained religiously for the next month in preparation for my test day. Slowly my sit-ups progressed a few more each day. I eventually reached 200 sit-ups- and beyond- in ten minutes. Unfortunately, that was about the only tangible improvement I’ve made so far.

The day of the test came and I loaded all the equipment I needed for my test into my car and drove to the school. 8PM came and I started my test with the jump rope. Unfortunately, my skill at jumping rope did not improve much in the last month and the black belt grew frustrated at my inability. After about 4 minutes into my second try she called a stop and informed me that I failed and will be retested in about a month. Thirty minutes after I arrived, I was heading home from my test determined never to return to the school again out of frustration and disgrace. This test was impossible and it was unfair that I drew this lot.

I slept on my decision a couple of nights and decided to stay the course. I did not want to go through this test but knew that I would regret it and never get over it for the rest of my life. I received the revised test the same day. Each time a student receives a test and fails, the revised test is to be in some way harder. My revised test was exactly the same except that I needed to jump at 125 turns a minute instead of the original 120. Another month came and passed. More training. More jump rope. But I just wasn’t progressing. When the week of my test arrived, I called the blackbelt who wrote my test and informed her that I felt that I could not pass the test at this time and I was granted a postponement. She told me to train and let her know when I ready as long as it was before March 1.

I re-doubled my training. My visits to the gym increased from three to four or five times a week. I’ve become a “regular” in the late afternoon. I finally started to see some appreciable progress. When confident that passing was within reach, I called my blackbelt and let her know I was ready. Expecting some kind of penalty for balking at my last test date, I was not surprised when it came. Instead of testing in about a month, I was given an additional ten weeks to wait for my test. Ten more weeks to stay at this level of fitness was not going to be easy. Rather than viewing it as a penalty of time, I took it as an opportunity to train even better and harder.

Test day finally arrived. I moved into the school an hour and a half early in order to make sure that I had everything I needed and it was set up in just the right places. While sitting on the floor, I would need to have everything I would use within hand’s reach.

At eight o’clock exactly, I lit my candle. The candle needed to stay lit for the entire test without any interference from anyone including myself. My Master came in and the test began. My monitors lined up behind me. Two of them with clicker counters and one peering over their shoulders calling out the jumps. I slammed out the first four minutes with no problem but then some leg fatigue started deadening my calves. In my head, I heard all my friends and supporters. Their words echoing in my head between the rhythmic hits of the rope on the floor.

You can beat this.

I’ll think strong thoughts for you.

During the last couple of minutes, I lost track of time and wasn’t sure if I had reached the eight-minute mark- so I kept jumping and jumping. Finally, my Master called “stop!” I had done eight minutes and twenty seconds of jump rope at an average of 140 jumps per minute. It was the first time I ever jumped that long!

Right up to test day, the jump rope was still the biggest wild card of this test. Too many trips or fatigue could have ended it right there once again. At soon as she called ‘stop’ my thoughts were: I just passed my test!

The sit-ups came and went pretty much as during training although a little slower. It must have been the different surface than the hardwood gym floor where I practiced. Two hundred sit-ups in 9 minutes. Finally, came the balance board. I had to stand on the edge of a two-by-four wood frame on the balls of my feet with my heels hanging in the air for ten minutes while doing a hand exercise with a partner. After eight minutes or so, my legs started quaking from the strain. I shifted positions every so often, lifted one foot, stood tall, crouched low- anything to relieve the fatigue.

I made it through the exercises and after a short break, began the “reflection phase” of the test. I had a long road ahead of me. My next activity was the half-marathon in the morning and I had to sit cross legged in this room for almost twelve hours until then. Throughout the evening, my monitors rotated in and out in shifts of one or two hours each. I occupied my time by eating pretzel nuggets one at a time- taking about two minutes for each one. I looked at the ingredients to my granola bars. I inspected the tweezers I will use tomorrow for the rice counting. Anything to keep my mind awake.

To my surprise, the time passed rather quickly. Every hour, on the hour, I recited the principles of the art:

“Mind and Body in Harmony.
Economy of Movement.
Recognize and Exploit Weaknesses.
Create and Use the Unexpected.”

At soon as I was finished reciting, I immediately tried to catch a nap. Still sitting up, I held up my head on my hands and propped my elbows on my knees. Doing this I managed to get a couple of 5-minute cat naps every hour. Once I reached the half-hour mark, I stopped trying to nap for fear of sleeping through the next recitation. The occasional tingle in my feet let me know that it was time to shift positions. Every two hours, I was given a break. It was a slow process getting up. All my bones and muscles had solidified into my hunched-over, cross-legged position. It took about two of my ten precious minutes just to regain the flexibility to stand straight up.

Catching a short cat nap.

The dark, cold hours of the morning deepened unseen outside my windowless room. The traffic outside died down to one car every couple of minutes. Even the air traffic from the nearby airport became a fleeting break in the silence. I ate some food but surprisingly, I didn’t have much of an apatite. I knew I needed some energy for the upcoming run, but nerves had made me borderline nauseous. Birds started calling outside. Some dawning sunlight streamed through the front of the school and crept across the entry of the gym. I made it through my first night.

At 8:45, my Master returned (from a comfortable and restful night’s sleep!). She allowed me a few minutes to freshen up, stretch and prepare for the run. At nine AM exactly, I emerged from the school and began my run. I immediately went into my training pace and ran my miles at a measured speed. When I completed my first one-mile lap, I took a Sharpie marker from my pocket and drew a slash on my tank top. 12 more to go! The miles added up quickly and before I knew it I looked down at my shirt to see ten slashes and I still had forty-five minutes left.

(Fast forward to after the test: it was Sunday evening and I was just bedding down to the first sleep since Thursday night when the phone rang. It was Barry: Student #1- the one who convinced the headmaster to teach and was the first ever student and Black Belt in our school. He was calling his congratulations and I felt like the president himself was on the phone with me. During the conversation, he asked me if anything strange happened during my test. At the time, I answered 'no' but afterwards I realized that something magical did happen to me. I was given the gift of tachypsychia. Tachypsychia (tacky- sci- kia) is a warped perception of time caused by stress. People commonly experience it and say things like “it happened so fast that I couldn’t do anything about it” or “it was like things were in slow motion.”

During my torturous sitting on the gym floor, the tachypsychia made time wash over me much quicker than normal. But now, during the run, the time stretched and gave me all the time in the world to run my race. The world moved in slow motion as I ran my laps around it.)

One thing that I kept in mind about black belt tests was that it was best just to get through the test and not to get fancy. When black belt candidates have to spar for extended lengths of time, those who passed consistently say that they weren’t trying to beat their opponents but were trying to outlast their opponents. Conserve their energy, use efficiency of motion. With three miles to go and forty-five minutes to do it I scaled back my efforts. I passed this part of my test already- crossing the finishing line was just a formality now. I ran one more mile at a slower pace and then walked the last two miles. It was a good thing that I had the time because I once tried to start jogging again and couldn't- my legs stiffened into inflexible logs. I finished the run in two hours and twenty minutes- ten minutes shy of my deadline.

Upon entering the gym, I was greeted with a small container of rice sitting on a snack table with a folding chair next to it. My task was to count the rice one grain at a time using tweezers. After counting for about an hour, I decided to check my progress by comparing the counted container next to the uncounted. To my horror, I hadn’t made a dent. I spent the next two hours or so adjusting my counting technique to find the fastest and most accurate method for transferring the rice from one container to the other using the tweezers. Rather than picking up each grain, lifting it and dropping it into the other container, I tipped the full container on its side by the edge of the table and held the empty bin just below the edge of the container. Once I was set up, all I needed to do was to flick each grain into the bin. The counting went quickly now and I started making progress. Every once in a while I ran into a complication: the rice sliding across the plastic bin built up a static charge on the plastic which caused the grains to start making unexpected movements. Sometimes they made curves, threatening to miss the recieving cup. Other times they looped under the lip and clung to the underside of the container. Seven hours later, I reached the end, and after drawing an arbitrary line between what was to be considered a grain of rice and what was a rice crumb, I counted 12,993 grains.

The extended time counting left me only an hour or so to “relax” until I had to repeat my exercises. I was really concerned this time because the combination of the long run and then sitting still for seven hours did a number on my legs. They were stiff and sore and sluggish. How in the world was I going to jump again for eight minutes? I sat on the floor, faced my candle and relaxed my mind and body. I soon realized that it was a mistake to do so. The candle was going through one of its periodic sputtering phases as the wick became flooded with excess wax melted from the sides. Several times I thought it was going to go out and I was going to fail for such a trivial and stupid reason as a candle going out! I had to turn my back on the candle and hope for the best.

My monitors and my Master entered at 8 PM and we began. This set of jumps was tough. I was winded and my legs were tired by three minutes.

“Keep jumping until your legs don’t work,” I told myself. I started tripping! Once, twice, three times. I jumped faster to compensate for the pause in the count.

Faster, faster.

Can’t breathe enough.

I invoked my “key word”. During "lesson one" at the school the Head Master taught us an internal awareness exercise and told us to pick a secret word that has special significance to each of us. Through the years of training, the key word was activated to refocus yourself on your awareness of your body. It is used to sense, and then slow the heartbeat. To focus out pain. To call up reserves. Slow breathing and to regain order within. I called on my Key Word to give me a second wind.

My tired eyes couldn't focus through all of the bouncing. I drew every bit of endurance I could from the Universe. I borrowed strength from my friends thinking of me. I reached deep inside and tapped every reserve I had. At seven minutes and forty seconds, my monitor called out 120. A few jumps later my Master called “Stop, you did it!”

Huffing and puffing, I threw my nemesis across the gym. The rope slid across the floor and lay there lifeless, defeated.

On to the sit-ups- or as I thought of it: “rest time.” Ever since I passed the 200 mark in training, the sit-ups have not been a problem so it was a time to re-focus for the balance exercise which was going to be difficult after the run. The sit-ups and balance exercise went without issue and I passed what I thought was the last obstacle between me and my black belt.

My master spoke. “You passed the jump rope again! Doing an average of 140 each minute. I wasn’t going to fail you tonight if you didn’t pass this part. I even considered not making you jump. A fundamental philosophy of the Art of Bo Fung Do is ‘Not Today.’ You fought the fight of your life last night and it is unrealistic to fight the fight of your life and give it your all every night. So tonight, I’m giving you a reward for doing it again. I am lifting the sitting restriction for the rest of the test.”

The unexpected mercy caught me completely by surprise and I was overwhelmed with this one tiny luxury that I was granted. Despite the torturous nature of this test, I could not believe how well things have gone for me. My months of training and years of preparation and visualization were paying off. The test was going by the numbers and I was "in the zone." I realized then that the actual test was not happening now- the Test of the Spirit was happening during my training. The days at the gym even when I didn't have the energy. Those tired afternoons after work when I had to keep doing sit-ups. Running three miles when my legs were cramped and my feet were blistered from the last run. Picking up the rope again after another trip. To keep fighting for my black belt for endless days on the treadmill, or in the weight room or on the aerobics floor- that's where my spirit was tested!

She then gave me the title of the poem that I had to write during the night already typed on a piece of paper:

“The Rope, The Rice and The Shadow- by Phil Medina.”

In addition, she gave me a book that I had to read. It was a short book, about one hundred pages long. I spent the remainder of the night alternating between reading the book and composing my poem. The title was an obvious reference (obvious to me) to my test. The Rope was the jump rope with which I have struggled for so long. The Rice was this portion of my test. And the Shadow was the inner anger I revealed as being one of my weaknesses during the first phase of this test months ago.

Between the composing and reading, the night passed quickly. However, I did have a few bouts of doziness. I combated this by reverting to catnaps in a sitting position as I did the night before. The uncomfortable position, kept me from getting too deep in sleep. As daylight began creeping into the gym again, the Head Master paid me a visit. He sat against one of the walls in the gym and we had some light conversation for a while and then he left to prepare for his day of teaching. Shortly after, my Master came in. She asked for my poem and then sent me out to the Plum Flower Poles.

At nine AM, I began the last physical part of my test. I had to stand on the Plum Flower Poles for two hours. The poles are a field of seventeen wooden poles buried in the ground. They are all of different widths and heights with the highest being about 30 inches high. I stood up on the first pole, time began and I was hit with a shockingly abrupt realization that this was not going to be easy. My shaky and tired legs could not stop quaking as I stood on the first pole. The pole was a little loose and shaky itself. The arches of my feet started cramping. “I have not come this far to fail now!” I told my self. “I’m not going through this again.” I had to stand on each pole for five minutes and up until now, it was the longest two and a half minutes ever. It demanded total concentration. I had to pick a spot on the ground to look at to keep my balance. A few times I almost lost it.

Finally, the first pole was done and I had to step to the next pole. A misstep here and it would be over. Step too hard and my foot slips off- over! I carefully bridged the gap to the next pole and straddled the two until I got the courage to bring both feet onto one pole. Pole two and three were also extremely tough. While standing on number three, my Master came out to check on me. I asked her if I was allowed to touch the walls or fence. When she said “yes” I inwardly told myself that I just passed the test! The vast majority of the remaining poles were on the perimeter of the field and I was able to lean on the fence or wall. There were only two more poles in the middle where I would need to balance upon them unaided. I planned to take the first of these just before my break at the one hour mark and the second, and more difficult one, when I come back fresh from a five minute break. While standing on the poles, I used the time to continue to memorize my poem, a copy of which I kept in my pocket. I finished the course and had twenty-five minutes left to stand on any pole to reach the full two hours. I chose pole number seventeen which was comfortably close to the wall. Every once in a while I found myself getting too comfortable. The long hours of my test were adding up. I had to remind myself to remain focused. I shifted position to make it a little less comfortable. While standing on the last pole, my Master came out and gave me instructions for the last leg of my test. After the poles I was to go back to the room and use the time to memorize my poem. But first, I had to finish my pole standing. Not remembering if I started exactly at nine AM, I stayed on the poles an additional five minutes to make sure I wasn’t short.

I spent the next hour or so pacing in the room memorizing my lines. I cursed myself after each flub, each forgotten line, each misplaced section. I was finally able to recite the prose completely several times back-to-back with only pauses but no mistakes. As the final hour approached, my nerves grew. My heart pounded, adrenaline surged. This is it, I told myself. It comes down to this… and I better not mess up.

The moment finally came. I stood before my classmates at the end of their lesson. “I have a poem that I’d like to share with you,” I informed the students. “I wrote it using a Rhyme Royal rhyme scheme with iambic trimeter meter.”

“The Rope, The Rice, and the Shadow

“I’ve looked deep in my soul.
Saw the evil within-
A dark, shadowy hole.”

To my amazement, my mind started going blank- absolutely blank. A blankness like I have never experienced before. No words, no images flashed in my head!

“The rage that I keep in
Was like an angry twin.”

The lines came very slowly, I remembered them, slowly, with the effort of trying to remember a faded childhood memory, one at a time.

“We are one and the same,
And this beast I will tame.

“With failure I’ve struggled
At the end of this rope.
Couldn’t jump- but juggled!
Never gave up my hope,
And on test day I’ll cope.
I will master this deed.
In the end I’ll succeed.”

I fixed my gaze at the floor in front of me, not daring to catch anyone’s eye. I was completely alone in a room full of people.

“My last test day arrives
And I’m sweating with fear.
Impossible times five!
I’ve struggled all year
And my goal is so near.
I feel it in my soul
I’ve accomplished my goal.”

At my last word, I stood there fixed on the mats before me. My heart stopped, breathing halted, time stood still. A hand reached into my vision and grasped mine.

“You passed!” came the firm yet gentle words.

The enormity of what I had just finished would not settle in for several weeks. I had reached a goal that I set eleven years earlier and could not even begin to know how to feel. Later that day, I received my black sash and one line of The Oath echoed, and continues to echo in my mind:

“This piece of cloth symbolizes not the end of an old journey, but the beginning of a new one.”