Healthy Habits #4: Why It’s Good to Suck at Something

Deciding to take up a new skill can be humbling, especially when that skill involves flailing your limbs like a confused praying mantis. Enter: Southern Mantis Kung Fu—a martial art that doesn’t involve low crouching moves from The Matrix but instead has a high-stance, boxing-like style. Seems manageable, right? That’s what I thought too. Spoiler alert: I was wrong.

At the time, my weekly activities were pretty straightforward—running, cycling, and a bit of gym work. All repetitive movements I’d honed over years of training. What these lacked, though, was coordination. And let me tell you, discovering how uncoordinated you are is a real kick to the ego (sometimes, literally, if you’re in a kung fu class).

Determined to improve, I committed to two classes a week, with a bit of weekend practice thrown in. Three months in, I had my white belt—a symbol of my beginner status, but hey, progress is progress. What I loved most wasn’t just learning a new skill but the fact that I was just Wes in the classroom. No one knew or would have cared that I was an ex-pro cyclist. No one asked about the Tour de France or mentioned Lance Armstrong. It was refreshing to be “the guy who couldn’t throw a punch properly” instead of “the guy who rode professionally.”

By month four, I thought I was out of the danger zone of injuries. Let me emphasize the word thought. Turns out, beginners in combat sports are walking injury magnets, especially when their technique is... developing.

Then came the infamous Iron Fist session. Sounds cool, right? It’s essentially the day you stop pretending and start absorbing actual force. This wasn’t the “light contact” we’d practised before. Our Sifu (master teacher) didn’t hold back, and neither did my ribs, which were on the receiving end of some generous kicks and punches. I walked out of that class bruised, battered, and slightly delusional as to why I wasn't shown the rib crunch blocking moves beforehand. Naturally, I thought that weekend, doing parkrun and hitting the gym on Sunday, was a great idea.

Big mistake, I'm not David Goggins. Pull-ups sealed my fate, leaving me with an intercostal tear (yep, both sides) and some cartilage bruising. The diagnosis was grim, but the doctor and physio assured me that, with rest 6-12 weeks, I’d recover. Rest wasn’t exactly part of my DNA, but I had no choice—every deep breath reminded me I wasn’t invincible. With my ribs locked up tighter than a bank vault and every muscle in full-on protective mode, I had the mobility of Zoolander—I literally couldn’t turn left. Add to that my neck and shoulders, which decided to join the strike, and it was a recipe for discomfort. My Garmin sleep score took a nosedive, plummeting from its usual 85-95 down to a miserable 60. Thankfully, after a few weeks of teamwork with my trusty chiro Luke Veverka at The Good Joint, things slowly started to ease up, and I could finally reclaim some movement (and a bit of sleep).

Two and a half months later, after reflecting (and wincing every time I rolled over in bed), I officially retired from Mantis Kung Fu. Am I disappointed? Not really. I didn’t sign up to become a kung fu master. I signed up because I’d always wanted to know some basics of martial arts, and I enjoyed being terrible at something for once.

The beauty of starting from scratch is that it forces you to embrace humility and resilience. You’re reminded that growth isn’t linear, and sometimes, it comes with a side of bruised ribs. While my kung fu journey was short-lived, it left me with a fresh perspective—and a newfound appreciation for the simple joy of breathing without pain. It also gave me a wake-up call about how, later in life, even minor health setbacks can have a bigger impact on our overall health span. In case you missed my last update, I talked about setting my sights on becoming a longevity athlete—committed to keeping my health span as strong and vibrant as my lifespan.

Ha, yeah, I know—I hadn’t quite revealed that part yet. We all make mistakes, and somewhere along the way, I had one of those What are you even doing?! moments. Lesson learned… mostly.

Key Lessons from My Short-Lived Mantis Kung Fu Journey

Stepping into the world of Mantis Kung Fu as a complete beginner was as humbling as it was eye-opening. While my time in the dojo/kwoon was brief (and, let’s be honest, a little painful), the experience left me with more than just sore ribs. It reminded me of the value of stepping outside my comfort zone, embracing failure, and learning from challenges—both physical and mental.

Here are the key takeaways from my attempt to master a martial art that, as it turns out, doesn’t pair well with ribs and pull-ups:

1. It's Okay to Be Bad at Something New

• Starting from ground zero in Mantis Kung Fu was a humbling but refreshing experience.
• Being bad at a skill can help build resilience and remind you of the value of learning.

2. Breaking Out of Your Comfort Zone is Valuable

• Moving from endurance-based, repetitive sports to a coordination-heavy martial art revealed gaps in strength and technique.
• Pushing beyond familiar activities can provide unique challenges and growth opportunities.

3. Identity Reset Can Be Refreshing

• Being "just Wes" in the class allowed a break from the expectations tied to a former professional cycling career.
• Trying something unrelated to your usual identity can be liberating.

4. Injury Risks and Lessons Learned

• Mantis Kung Fu training highlighted the importance of proper technique and conditioning in avoiding injuries.
• Overtraining or ignoring early signs of pain (like continuing Parkruns or pull-ups) can exacerbate injuries.

5. Short-Term Experiences Can Still Be Worthwhile

• Despite not continuing with Kung Fu, the experience offered valuable insights and personal growth.
• It’s okay not to master something as long as you take something meaningful from the process.

6. Resilience and New Goals

• The experience reinforced the value of perseverance and resilience.
• Injury recovery became an opportunity to adapt and set sights on new goals for 2025.

So, what’s next? In 2025, I’m gearing up for a fresh challenge—something I can be gloriously bad at all over again. This time, though, I’ll make sure my health and longevity aren’t on the chopping block. As much as I enjoy being good at things, there’s an undeniable thrill in being the worst in the room—just hopefully without the injuries this time.

Stay tuned! I'll share my insights on a new goal for the year ahead. It’s going to be tough, it’s a sport that's growing fast, and it promises to keep me on my toes. Thanks for tagging along, and here’s to the next adventure!