by Sensei Borya Paltielov (Judo Sensei & Referee)
–Belgrade, Serbia | June 8–14, 2026
As my plane descended into Belgrade, I found myself asking a question that many martial artists have likely asked at some point in their journey:
“Why am I doing this to myself?”
Ahead of me was a week of intense training, demanding examinations, endless repetitions, and the pressure of being evaluated by some of the most accomplished educators and practitioners in the world of judo. It had been years since I had placed myself in an environment where I would be challenged this thoroughly—not as a coach, referee, or instructor, but as a student.
What began with uncertainty quickly evolved into one of the most meaningful experiences of my judo career.
Rediscovering the Competitor Within
The IJF Academy Practical Session had a way of transporting me back in time.
The nerves before evaluations, the preparation between sessions, the constant self-assessment, and the desire to perform at my highest level all felt remarkably familiar. It reminded me of my competitive years, when tournaments occupied my thoughts and every training session had a purpose.
Initially, the stress was undeniable.
Every technique mattered.
Every demonstration was scrutinized.
Every mistake carried consequences.
Then something shifted.
Instead of viewing the practical session as an exam, I began treating it like a tournament. I approached each day with the same mindset I once carried into competition: prepare thoroughly, trust your training, and focus on the task directly in front of you.
Once that happened, the anxiety faded.
What remained was determination, confidence, and a competitive fire that I had not felt in years.
A Week of Learning at the Highest Level
One of the greatest privileges of the program was the opportunity to learn from World Champions, Olympic Champions, and internationally respected judo educators.
The technical expectations were demanding. Participants were expected not only to perform techniques correctly but to understand them completely. Every detail mattered.
Throughout the week, I reinforced my ability to execute all 100 Kodokan techniques. More importantly, I developed a deeper understanding of why each technique works and how to communicate that understanding to others.
The experience elevated my appreciation for the art of teaching.
What stood out most was watching world-class athletes explain fundamental concepts. The techniques themselves were impressive, but their ability to teach the basics—the details many people overlook—was extraordinary. They transformed repetition into engagement and made even the most fundamental movements meaningful.
It was a masterclass not only in judo, but in education.
The Universal Language of Judo
Beyond the technical knowledge, the people made the experience unforgettable.
The practical session brought together participants from around the world, including Kyrgyzstan, Spain, Serbia, Belgium, Puerto Rico, Slovakia, Tunisia, Finland, the United States, and many others. Despite our different backgrounds, cultures, and languages, we shared a common passion that instantly created connections.
One of the most memorable examples of this was my partnership with Darko, a coach from Serbia.
We were the same age, had similar accomplishments in judo, and quickly developed a strong training partnership. There was only one challenge:
I don’t speak Serbian.
He doesn’t speak English.
Yet communication was never an issue.
Through movement, demonstration, repetition, and a shared understanding of judo, we were able to work together seamlessly throughout the week. It was one of the clearest reminders I’ve ever experienced that judo truly is a universal language.
The week also provided an opportunity to build relationships with coaches, referees, and practitioners from around the world. While the training itself was invaluable, the conversations between sessions, shared meals, and collective challenges created friendships that extended far beyond the mat.
The Challenge Behind the Experience
As rewarding as the week was, it was far from easy.
Training days regularly consisted of six hours on the mat, often resulting in approximately 200–250 falls per session. It did not take long for old injuries to remind me they were still there, and new aches and pains soon joined them.
The entire environment felt like a traditional training camp. The structured schedule, shared accommodations, and daily routine were experiences I had not encountered since 2017. Fortunately, the adjustment came quickly, and before long I found myself settling back into the rhythm of training, studying, recovering, and repeating the process.
The physical demands were significant.
The mental demands were even greater.
Preparation for the examinations required mastery of nage-komi, shime-waza, kansetsu-waza, and kata demonstrations. For me, the most stressful component was the Nage-no-Kata.
Although I had studied it extensively, I had never performed the complete kata in front of an audience under examination conditions. Knowing that a significant mistake could result in a failing grade created a level of pressure unlike anything I had experienced in recent years.
Adding to the challenge was the sheer amount of information that needed to be retained. During the week, I became close with the two other representatives from the United States whom I met during the program. Between sessions and during breaks, the three of us constantly reviewed technique classifications, quizzed each other on Japanese terminology, discussed technical details, and rehearsed demonstrations.
Lunch breaks became study sessions.
Evenings became review sessions.
The learning never stopped.
Anxiety and stress were abundant throughout the week, but they were minimal in comparison to the knowledge gained, the relationships formed, and the experience itself.
More Than an Examination
Looking back, the soreness has already begun to fade.
The bruises will heal.
The exhaustion will become a distant memory.
What remains are the lessons learned, the friendships formed, and a renewed appreciation for the journey of judo itself.
The week reinforced something that every serious martial artist eventually discovers: no matter how much experience you accumulate, there is always another layer of understanding waiting to be uncovered.
Belgrade challenged me physically, tested me mentally, and reminded me what it feels like to fully immerse myself in the pursuit of improvement.
Most importantly, it reminded me why I fell in love with judo in the first place.
Not because it is easy.
Not because it is comfortable.
And certainly not because success is guaranteed.
But because judo has always demanded that I confront my limitations, embrace discomfort, and continue moving forward anyway.
As I reflect on that first question I asked myself when departing to Serbia—“Why am I doing this to myself?”—the answer now feels remarkably simple.
Because growth is always found beyond the edge of comfort, and some journeys are worth taking precisely because they challenge us to become better than we were before.
