On Sunday 18th February, I took my daughter to Swindon to compete in the P.U.M.A International taekwondo tournament in Swindon, despite having done taekwondo for just over a year, competing in tournaments isn't really her thing. She attends sparring classes, but she just doesn't like to hit people — that being said, this is one tournament that she enjoys and wanted to take part in, having won a silver medal the previous year, maybe she saw this as a chance to test herself, to see if she had improved.
After three, three-minute fights — which doesn't sound that long, but believe me three-minutes of non-stop punching and kicking feels like a lifetime when you are the one on the mats doing the fighting — she reached the medal stage, where she would compete for a gold medal.
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Fighting for a place in the final.
In the final, where she would either come home with a silver or gold medal, she faced the girl who beat her the previous year, so it really would be a test of character and a chance to see if she had improved. I think those three minutes were the most nervous I have ever felt; I could barely watch and then at the end when the different coloured ribbon was held up my heart was in my throat — for one awful minute I thought red ribbon had been held aloft and I would have to deal with an upset child; it wasn't until another one of the parents from our club shouted, "well done," to her, that I realised that she had won the gold medal.
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Winning gold! 🥇
She'd tested herself and passed the test. On that day, she proved what it meant to, 'fight like a girl.' ♀️
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