Corrections

The contrasts of this journey never seem to stop. Most days I love them — they keep things honest — but there are moments when I wish the way forward felt clearer, less obscured by effort and doubt.

The afternoon began like many others: a careful warm-up for my injuries, followed by some gentle Tai Chi. Nothing unusual. Nothing dramatic. And then things shifted.

My coach, Louis, came over and watched me complete Tai Chi 13 — a form I know well, or at least one I believed I did. It’s a form I’m comfortable with, familiar enough to feel like home.

Or so I thought.

When I finished, I looked to him instinctively, hoping for some small sign — confirmation that the work is paying off, that progress is happening, that the hours matter.

Instead, I was met with a long list of corrections. Real ones. Necessary ones.

In that moment, I felt it — the drop. That quiet, sinking sensation rising from somewhere deep, familiar and unwelcome. Disappointment set in fast. Old feelings stirred. And just like that, an otherwise ordinary day slid toward self-judgment.

He ended by pointing out the central issue that still remains after all this time: my back. Still not straight. Still leaning forward from the hip as I move between positions.

That one landed hard.

I felt exposed. Frustrated. Tired. As if months of effort had somehow missed the mark. The old narrative tried to reassert itself — you’re behind, you’re failing, you should be further along by now.

But this time, something different happened.

I noticed it.

I caught the feeling as it arrived and refused to let it settle. No matter what came next, I decided I would not let this moment undo me.

And what came next mattered.

Louis calmly explained the plan. A clear, practical approach to fixing the issue over the next six-month review. Nothing dramatic. No judgment. Just structure, patience, and time. Everything he said made sense.

I walked away feeling steadier. Not elated. Not crushed. Just grounded again — reassured by the fact that there is a path forward, even when it’s slower than I’d like.

Was it a great day? No.
Was it useful? Absolutely.

More importantly, I was proud of how I met the moment. I didn’t spiral. I didn’t cling to old stories. I adjusted, accepted, and kept moving.

That small shift — catching an old habit before it took hold — mattered more than the correction itself.

And that was enough to leave me smiling.