The Most Valuable Thing My Martial Arts Training Ever Gave Me

One of the most important lessons martial arts ever taught me didn't happen in a dojo. It happened in a dark alley on the other side of the world.

About twenty years ago, I was mugged in Amsterdam.

Looking back, I can honestly say the first mistake happened long before anyone grabbed me. I'd even read the travel advice warning visitors not to wander down the narrow side alleys of the Red Light District. Yet when the friend I was travelling with suggested we take a quick look down one of them, I agreed. That poor decision put me exactly where I shouldn't have been.

Ironically, I'd also done some things right. I was carrying an old wallet in my back pocket containing only a small amount of cash. It wasn't there by accident. I'd deliberately taken it with me so that if I was robbed, I had something I could hand over without losing my passport, cards or the rest of my money.

That experience reinforced something I've repeated to students ever since. Self-protection starts long before the physical confrontation. It begins with awareness, preparation and decision-making. Sometimes those decisions keep you out of trouble altogether. Sometimes, despite your best efforts, they simply improve your chances when things go wrong.

When the confrontation began, it happened quickly. A man approached asking for a light. I smoked in those days (I was young and stupid in many ways!), so I reached out with my lighter. Instead, he grabbed the front of my jacket with his left hand and produced a broken bottle in his right, pointing it at my stomach.

The adrenaline surge was immediate. My heart was racing, my vision narrowed and I was aware that my friend had run to find help, although my attention was almost entirely fixed on the man standing in front of me. People sometimes imagine that martial artists don't experience fear, but that's simply not true. I was frightened. Every physiological response people describe under acute stress happened exactly as the textbooks say it does.

The difference was that I didn't panic.

At that point in my life I held black belts in Taekwondo and traditional karate and had spent several years training in Wing Chun. None of that made me feel invincible. If anything, it made me appreciate just how dangerous the situation really was. A broken bottle at close range is not something to take lightly.

What my training gave me wasn't a particular technique. It was the ability to keep thinking.

Without consciously planning it, my left hand came up into what looked like a placating gesture while staying high enough to protect me if necessary. My right hand stayed lower, monitoring the weapon in case he slashed or stabbed. When he demanded money, I immediately told him he could have it and slowly reached into my back pocket for the wallet.

I can still remember another thought crossing my mind at that moment. If I had to strike him, what would be legally justified? I certainly wasn't an expert on Dutch self-defence law, but I was consciously weighing my options rather than reacting blindly. Looking back, that surprises me almost as much as the confrontation itself. Even under that level of stress, my training had conditioned me to think before acting.

As I carefully held the wallet out, he released my jacket and reached towards it. That was the first genuine opportunity I'd seen. As he turned, his body angle changed and the arm holding the bottle crossed his own centreline. I instinctively struck his elbow with a heel palm, pinning the arm holding the bottle against his chest. It wasn't a fight-ending technique, nor did it need to be. It simply created the moment I needed.

I turned and ran.

I found my friend, who was trying to get help, grabbed her arm and we kept running until we were well clear of the area. I had no interest in winning a fight or teaching someone a lesson. My only objective was to escape safely, and once the opportunity presented itself, that's exactly what I did.

When I think back on that experience now, I don't remember the strike nearly as much as I remember everything surrounding it. The physical response occupied perhaps a second. The decisions before and after it had a much greater influence on the outcome.

The biggest mistake was allowing myself to be isolated in the first place despite knowing better. At the same time, some simple preparation proved worthwhile. Carrying a decoy wallet gave me something to hand over immediately and helped create an opportunity. Once the confrontation began, the years of training didn't remove the fear, but they allowed me to continue thinking instead of freezing. They helped me recognise an opportunity when it appeared and reminded me that escaping was always a better outcome than continuing the confrontation.

People often ask what martial arts "work" in a real fight. For me, that's the wrong question. I certainly didn't use everything I'd learned. There were no elaborate combinations, no spectacular kicks and none of the techniques that fascinated me as a young martial artist.

What mattered wasn't how many techniques I knew. What mattered was that years of training had prepared me to function under pressure. They taught me to keep thinking when every instinct was telling me to panic. They helped me recognise that brief opportunity to escape and, just as importantly, to take it.

That's something I think the internet often gets wrong. Keyboard warriors argue endlessly about which style is superior or whether one technique would beat another. Real violence doesn't happen like that. It doesn't care what style you train or how many techniques you know. What matters is whether you can continue making good decisions when your body is flooded with adrenaline and whether you can recognise the moment to get yourself to safety.

Looking back, I don't think the greatest gift martial arts gave me that day was a particular technique. It gave me a mindset. It taught me that self-protection begins well before physical self-defence, continues throughout the confrontation and doesn't end until you're safely away.

That's a lesson that has stayed with me far longer than any technique ever could.

Author's note: This article describes a personal experience from many years ago. It is shared to illustrate principles of awareness, preparation and decision-making under stress, not as a tactical guide. Every violent encounter is different, and the safest response will always depend on the circumstances. The objective of self-protection is to avoid harm and escape safely, not to win a fight.