My Last Month of Krav Maga

I realize something. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

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Last week, I complained about how much I missed Krav Maga and wanted to go back.

Today, with an hour to go, I don’t want to go. I remember why I needed the break. I’m bored and burned out. I find the lessons repetitive and no longer interesting. It’s not my wonderful teacher’s fault, he’s doing the best he can, but there’s only so much you can practice any form of martial art alone, outside katas.

It frightens me because Krav Maga used to give me incredible joy. It was my safe space, my place where I felt the most powerful and the most inspired. Now, I actually find myself praying for my teacher to win the lottery, stay on vacation, and never return to his job again.

I know that’s pathetic, but I’m really feeling like I’m slowly dying inside and not just because I have a migraine.

The last time I truly felt passionate about Krav Maga was the time where I promised not to go to class.

Otherwise, Krav Maga has been emotionally one of the worst parts of my day. I feel like someone walking through the burned-out ruins of my childhood home, it’s an empty shell of the warm place it was. I feel like my self-esteem goes down five notches every single time I turn on Zoom. And park classes just remind me how much I lost.

I have tried to talk about it, but I feel like I don’t have the words to express it. I just no longer feel a sense of community. I no longer feel like anyone would remember me two months out if I left. I feel like I’m thirsting alone, and Krav Maga only tantalizes me with drops of seawater, making it worse.

Zoom triggers my migraines. Krav Maga triggers my anxiety. It’s a struggle.

My mother finally asked me why I was doing this to myself. “Every time you talk about Krav Maga, it sounds like you’re going to the dentist.” (Anyone who knows my history with dentists is aware of how low I must sound) “Seriously, it’s okay for you to find another sport, even for a while.”

I remember a video the great Chewjitsu made, about what if this was my last class? Wouldn’t it be more meaningful? I asked myself, what if this is my last month? Not just taking a break, but forcibly removing myself and finding another place to call my home.

The situation has hit a full boil and it can’t continue.

Either I fall in love with Krav Maga again, or I find a place where I am happy.

I’ve committed to myself if I feel this miserable by October 1st, I’m going to send this email. I wrote it out and I have it in my Google boomerang, on automatic send. I have a reminder the day before to either stop it or do nothing and press the trigger.


This will be my last month. I can’t thank you enough for all you did for me, it has been a pleasure and an honor to get to know you all. No words can express the change you made to my life. Although I’m no longer part of the studio, the studio will always be a part of me. It’s my sincere hope that someday I’ll join again, once Covid-19 allows normal training again,

Elke Weiss

I actually counted. According to Mindbody, after Monday’s class, I will have completed 1146 classes and will have 22 classes left.

Every class, I will count down. I will remind myself that everything is the last few ones.

The last few kidas.

The last few times I hear “good noon.”

The last few times I see my teacher as a teacher, and not just a regular person.

If the thought makes me miserable, I’ll know to remove the email.

If classes become more meaningful, I’ll reconsider why I feel this way. If it feels like a relief, I have my answer.

Ken Theriot is right. A dream that is true never dies.

Whatever happens, my dream of success is true and will not die. I just have to find the path that will take me there.

Writer, lawyer, Kravist, friend

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