After forty years of dedicated martial arts training—through sweat, discipline, and the deep tradition passed down from my teacher, Master Yun Tak Bong, and other great instructors I have been blessed to train under—I’ve reached a turning point. One I never imagined when I first stepped barefoot onto the training floor as a young man in Chong Dong Ri, South Korea.
As of now, I’m officially retiring from active martial arts training. After two total knee replacements and a long, frustrating recovery still marked by some pain, stiffness, and limitations, it’s time to acknowledge a truth many martial artists face but few talk about openly: sometimes the body says, “enough,” even when the spirit says, “more.”
I earned my 5th Dan rank the hard way—through decades of committed practice in Tang Soo Do and various other arts. My journey took me from humble beginnings to training in South Korea under Master Yun, in Aikido under Shihan Miachael Hawley, and other great instructors, learning not just techniques, but a way of life. For me, martial arts has never been just about kicks, punches, throws, or joint locks. It has always been a path—a way of living your life.
That path doesn’t end just because I can no longer perform jumping kicks or deep stances. In fact, it’s leading me somewhere new.
Though I’m stepping away from regular physical training, I’ll continue supporting the students in my online Udemy courses. Teaching has always been one of the greatest joys of my life. But now, a new chapter opens: one of writing, reflection, and legacy.
I plan to put everything I’ve learned—every lesson, story, and principle—into books that can outlast any injury, rank, or title. If I can’t pass on the art with my body, I’ll pass it on with my words.
While I may be done with martial arts training in the traditional sense, I’m not done training. My focus now is on health, longevity, and quality of life. Strength training, mobility work, and mindful movement have become my new forms—and honestly, they require just as much discipline and humility.
To my fellow martial artists—especially those over 50, or those recovering from injury or surgery—I offer this:
You are not less of a martial artist because your body has changed. You are not finished just because you can’t train how you used to. The path of a martial artist is long, and winding. Sometimes it leads you to the training floor. Sometimes it leads you to the bench, or to service, or simply to being at peace with where you are.
I will always be a student of martial arts in some way and continue to study and research my roots, it just may not be physically.
This is not a farewell to the martial arts—it’s just a shift in stance.
The way continues.
Tang Soo!