Running the Circle

The command was simple.

When the teacher called your name, you stopped what you were doing, bowed to your partner, and ran down the stairs as quickly as you could.

Once you were outside you crossed the street and ran along the circle path at the park, before crossing again and running back upstairs to the dojo.

At first it was a name here or there.

Once or twice, and at other times it was multiple names and you had to navigate the crowd.

In one class the teacher quickly called out everybody’s name except the senior students.

Three dozen of us dressed in hakama running through the snow in the park.

This lesson in the dojo had been going on for some time now, a few months at least, and it was interesting to see how the students reacted.

Those new to the training ran as fast as they could; they had to be at the front of the pack, first out the door, and first back in the door.

For those who had seen this lesson a few other times, running fast was important in that you did not want to be last in the door, but pacing oneself was also important.

Being able to run just fast enough so that when you got back inside the dojo you still had the endurance to continue training.

He was my friend in the dojo, and we would always run side by side with each other during this exercise, but this time he was a little lighter and quicker in the footwork. As we passed the first loop in the park, he picked up his pace and started to run ahead of me.

It was at that point that I noticed one of the senior students of the dojo keeping pace with the group.

We were being watched.

My friend occupied a unique place in the dojo in that I brought him to the dojo; I was the reason for his entrance.

When we met he had an interest in the martial arts and was looking for a traditional Japanese dojo. I just happened to be a member of one and invited him to check it out. When the teacher interviewed him and accepted him as a student, it came with the condition that I was also partially responsible for him, as I was one of his recommendations.

He was really interested in the martial arts, and a really good guy, even if I had only known him a few weeks at that point of inviting him to the dojo.

I knew it was the wrong course of action, and that it would be noticed, but I didn’t care.

I had had enough.

He picked up his pace, so I picked up mine.

The senior student behind us could see the shift, abandoning correct footwork for all‑out running, as he called out our names and directed us to take the path leading up the hill that overlooked the dojo.

The hill slowed our pace to a jog as we were again side by side, but we both knew.

This was just a pause until we hit the downslope, and once that happened it was back on.

I pumped everything I had into that burst, and I was halfway down the hill when I noticed he was not beside me or behind me. He had left the path and cut directly down the hill, and now no matter how fast I was I’d never beat him, let alone catch up.

I was outside the dojo when one of the senior students came down to speak with me.

He told me it was cold out and I should come inside.

When I told him I needed a moment to catch some air, he gave me a look which we both knew the meaning of.

Giving me a few moments to follow him, he went back upstairs without me.

A few minutes later the teacher came down and asked if I was injured, as that had to be the reason why I had not rejoined training, and now he was required to leave the class and deal with me.

I told him I wasn’t hurt, that I needed a moment, to which he replied that class was still in session and I had not bowed out of the dojo for my moment.

Aware of that, I didn’t want my friend to see me right now.

Was he my friend?

He was, and we did have some good times together, but there were other times he was a total jerk to me in class, and this time I had had enough.

The teacher listened and asked me what any of those feelings had to do with class.

Class was in session and I should be up there practicing.

I explained myself again, but clearly the teacher wasn’t understanding.

Again, what does that have to do with practice, he asked.

Pausing for a moment, he closed the distance between us and asked:

Is he uchi deshi or are you?