Ligamentous Laxity, and Karate Anonymous

At my first karate class, unimaginably intimated, I picked up my big black burly uniform and my inflexible white belt and attempted unsuccessfully to put it on myself. An older girl graciously helped me. I stood in the very back of the class, and watched as the man in front corrected people's stances, went around the room and made commentaries. I prayed he wouldn't venture in the back.

When I was 4 years old, I was diagnosed with ligamentous laxity, meaning my knee ligaments were too loose. My doctor recommended starting a sport to strengthen them, so my mother decided to sign me up for a karate class that was offered at my school. I was the kind of child to stand in the corner and do everything in my power to not be noticed, so karate was about three planets out of my comfort zone.

I didn't quit, both because I was too scared to and because I was becoming rapidly intrigued by the discipline. When later on my eccentric karate teacher, whom I called "Kumu" (master in Hawaiian), left my school and had class in a makeshift dojo in a basement, I followed him. Over the years, students tended to drop left and right like flies, but I stuck, not because I was too scared to quit but because I was excited to continue.

I have now...