Looking Back On My Black Belt Promotion

In January of 2018, I received my black belt in Brazilian jiu jitsu.

Even now, years later, it still feels surreal to say that out loud.

For most people outside of jiu jitsu, a black belt probably sounds like a single moment. An achievement. A finish line.

But for anyone who has spent years on the mats, the black belt represents something much deeper:

• consistency,
• sacrifice,
• humility,
• frustration,
• growth,
• and thousands of hours spent slowly becoming someone different through training.

Recently, I went back and watched my black belt promotion video again.

Watching it now, I notice things I couldn’t fully process at the time.

The first thing that stands out is how mentally difficult the entire experience was before the “test” even began.

In all of my previous promotions, my instructor Roy Dean always used the word “promotion” rather than “test.” There was never a feeling that we were trying to “pass.” The event simply marked the recognition of growth that had already taken place over years of training.

But this time was different.

For my black belt, Roy repeatedly used the word “test.”

That small shift in language affected me more than I expected.

Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking:
“This is a celebration.”

I was thinking:
“What if I fail?”

Looking back, I realize how much pressure I quietly placed on myself because of that wording alone.

The second thing that stands out is how exhausted I already was before the test even began.

The promotion happened at the end of a long affiliate retreat weekend in Southern California. We had already spent:

• Friday evening training during open mat,
• hours inside the seminar Saturday morning,
• and an entire weekend physically and mentally immersed in jiu jitsu.

By the time the test started, my body was already depleted.

And honestly, I think that was intentional.

One of the realities of jiu jitsu is that technique matters most when you are tired.

Anyone can look technical while fresh.
The real challenge begins when:

• your breathing becomes difficult,
• your body feels heavy,
• your energy is fading,
• and composure becomes harder to maintain.

That is where jiu jitsu becomes deeply honest.

Watching the video now, I can still remember how physically difficult some of those moments felt:

• tight headlocks,
• exhausting mount positions,
• constant pressure,
• and prolonged uncomfortable situations while already completely taxed.

There were moments where my mind wanted relief more than anything else.

But there was also something strangely clarifying about the experience.

When exhaustion strips away comfort, you stop relying on emotion and begin relying on habit, composure, breathing, and trust in your training.

Another thing that affected me deeply was the absence of family and close friends.

For all of my previous belt promotions, the people closest to me had been there to witness the moment and celebrate alongside me. This time was different. I was away from home, surrounded by teammates and affiliates I respected greatly, but separated from the people who had been part of the journey from the very beginning.

I remember feeling that absence throughout the experience.

Part of me wished the people who sacrificed alongside me through all those years could physically witness the moment too.

Because a black belt is never earned alone.

Behind every promotion are:

• parents driving kids to class,
• training partners giving their time and bodies for years,
• instructors investing energy and belief,
• friends supporting the process,
• and loved ones making space for the lifestyle that long-term training requires.

No one arrives there independently.

Looking back now, I think the experience taught me something deeper than simply enduring a difficult physical test.

It reminded me that jiu jitsu is ultimately less about performing perfectly under ideal conditions and more about remaining composed when conditions are uncomfortable, uncertain, emotional, and exhausting.

That lesson extends far beyond the mats.

Life rarely gives us ideal circumstances.
Very few meaningful moments happen exactly the way we imagine they will.

Sometimes:

• we are tired,
• uncertain,
• emotionally overwhelmed,
• physically depleted,
• or carrying expectations we do not fully understand.

And yet we continue forward anyway.

That is part of what jiu jitsu slowly teaches over many years.

Not simply how to fight.

But how to remain steady under pressure.

How to breathe through discomfort.
How to continue moving forward while exhausted.
How to trust the years of preparation beneath the surface.

When I watch the video now, I no longer see a “test.”

I see the visible culmination of thousands of invisible moments:

• ordinary classes,
• difficult rounds,
• injuries,
• tournaments,
• failures,
• consistency,
• friendships,
• and years spent returning to the mats again and again.

That is what the black belt really represents to me now.

Not perfection.

But perseverance.