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[2019.12.18] Akira Kikuchi - 30 Methods to Train Yourself to Be Strong and Beautiful


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Info: https://www.amazon.co.jp/強く美しく鍛える30のメソッド-菊地-晃/dp/4334951252

 

[Book Description]
A trainer who has experienced two Olympic Games shares his method for aligning mind and body.

 

In the Sendai dialect, the word "izui" means "not quite right" or "something is off." I want to solve the "izui" not only for athletes, but also for patients and everyone who works on their bodies. That became my new goal.

 

Examples of the 30 practical methods you can start using today include:

  • A "full-turn jump" and "heel press" to realign your body’s axis

  • Posture-correcting stretches to create beautiful posture

  • Understanding internal balance to relieve pain

  • "Healing touch stretches" that help you listen to your body

  • Pressure points that promote quality sleep

  • "Eye movement training" to reduce anxiety

  • A mental switch to maintain just a thread of tension

  • "Mini-icing" during breaks to promote blood circulation

  • Incorporating leftward rotation in daily movement

  • Stretch routines that stimulate pressure points to relieve stiffness in the neck and back

Whether for strength training or addressing health issues, this book offers 30 actionable methods to start using right away.

 

[Table of Contents]
Prologue: From a Small Osteopathic Clinic in Sendai
Chapter 1: Sunday Night Core Training
Chapter 2: Accompanying Athletes to International Competitions
Chapter 3: The Workstyle of a Personal Trainer
Chapter 4: Calming the Mind and Facing Tension
Chapter 5: Listening to the Body’s Voice

 

[Author Profile]
Akira Kikuchi
Born in 1956 in Miyagi Prefecture.

In 1990, he opened "Teraoka Orthopedic Clinic Kikuchi".

He has treated many athletes and patients with various ailments and injuries. In addition to his work at the orthopedic clinic, he holds core training classes every Sunday, instructing many elementary and junior high school students. He also supports para-athletes in the lead-up to the 2020 Tokyo Paralympics. His recent hobby is stand-up paddleboarding (SUP).

 

 

 

CN translation: https://weibo.com/1746783312/4508209710990469

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Chapter 1.1 - The Boy on the Balance Beam Who Stood Out

 

Spoiler

If there’s such a thing as a God-given talent, for Yuzuru, it must be the “ability to attract attention.”

 

The first time Yuzuru came to my osteopathic clinic, he was in second grade and had injured his ankle during jump training. After recovering from the sprain, he began participating in the "core training classes" I taught.

 

The Yuzuru moving around in the gym was a completely different person from the talkative boy in the treatment room. First of all, the way he moved his body was unlike any other child. He had excellent posture, and there was rhythm embedded in every movement… Perhaps this, too, is a characteristic of a figure skater.

 

Take, for example, the way Yuzuru ran.

 

Normally, even if kids have good posture, their steps tend to be heavy and uncontrolled when they try to run fast. But Yuzuru moved lightly and rhythmically, and yet his speed never dropped. His running posture had a softness and elegance to it that naturally drew the eye.


"What an interesting little guy," I thought. He left a strong impression on me.

 

However, during my training sessions, he wasn’t always fully engaged. While he worked incredibly hard during figure skating training, he often skipped my gym classes.

 

When he ran half-heartedly or slacked off during workouts, I would shout at him, bamboo sword in hand.


And then he’d always yell, “Ahhh—nooo!” and run away in every direction.


These little chase scenes became a regular routine between us.

 

Another moment that made me think, “This kid really is something else,” happened during circuit training.

 

Circuit training is a method that combines different movements—like running, hurdling, and simple jumps—into one continuous workout. It’s great for improving cardiovascular function, so I often had kids do it.

 

One of the final tasks on the list was to walk across a balance beam.

 

Yuzuru, with his natural athleticism, walked across the beam effortlessly. For me, that was a little boring.

 

“Hey, what’s with that? All you did was walk across like it was nothing. What sport do you train in again? Isn’t it one where you’re supposed to show beauty in motion? Then go show it!”

 

That ridiculous command of mine prompted him to walk across the beam again, this time striking figure skating poses as he went.

 

There were a few mischievous kids watching nearby. Normally, doing such figure skating poses in front of your peers might make a child feel like they’re being made fun of. They’d probably resist.

 

But Yuzuru confidently and openly demonstrated signature figure skating moves in front of the other kids. In figure skating, if you feel embarrassed by the movements or the costumes, you can’t continue with the sport. That’s especially true for boys.

 

So, in the best sense of the word, Yuzuru was a born standout.

 

And in those poses he struck, there was always this strange, captivating force that seemed to draw you in.

 

Watching him skate like that, I thought to myself:
"Ah, this child truly loves figure skating from the bottom of his heart."

 

How deeply do you love what you do?


That question isn’t limited to figure skating. No matter the field, passion is always the best shortcut to growth.

 

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Chapter 1.2 - Growing Kids Know How to “Make Requests”

 

Spoiler

Yuzuru’s training took place at the Konami Sports Club Izumi Ice Rink (now known as Ice Rink Sendai), and after each session there, he would always come to my osteopathic clinic. That became part of his daily routine.

 

If there was any issue with his body, I’d treat the affected area. Even when there wasn’t any pain, I’d give him massages or apply taping as a preventative measure. On top of that, he also attended the Sunday night gym training, so we ended up seeing each other almost every day.

 

Yuzuru, who had been quiet and reserved at first, gradually became quite talkative before I even realized it. That said, almost everything he talked about was related to figure skating.

 

“Axel is like this, and Loop is like that…”


He would go on endlessly during treatment sessions.

 

Since I had no interest in figure skating at all, I’d often say things like, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” “Stop chattering and just relax for the massage!”


But even then, he’d just keep talking to himself, completely immersed in skating.


From that time on, it was clear that his whole mind was occupied with figure skating.

 

Despite seeing him nearly every day, I never once heard him complain about “wanting to play” or “not wanting to skate.”

 

Apparently, when he was in the lower grades of elementary school, he once told his family that he wanted to switch to baseball because of the intense training and the perception that figure skating was a “girls’ sport.”


But in front of me, he never once voiced anything like that.

 

Most elementary schoolers constantly talk about video games or manga, right?


But Yuzuru never brought up those topics.


When he mentioned watching TV, I asked what shows he liked, and it turned out he was only watching videos of Plushenko’s performances over and over, every single day, until the tapes wore out and wouldn’t play anymore.

 

Yuzuru would always come to my clinic in the evenings, after his training.


By then, I had no choice but to extend my operating hours.


Every day, I kept the clinic open late, waiting for him to arrive.

 

“Sensei, is it okay if I come again tomorrow after practice?” he would ask, apologetically, still only a third- or fourth-grader.

 

If a parent had asked, I might’ve been able to decline.


But when a little kid asked me so sincerely, I could only respond: “Of course. I’ll keep it open. Just come by.”

 

It’s only natural to want to support a child who’s trying so hard.


Before I knew it, I started looking forward to his visits, with a sense of hope.

 

That just goes to show that even as a young child, Yuzuru was very good at making requests.

 

But it wasn’t just Yuzuru who was working hard.


Getting to our clinic required a ride, and it was always his father who brought him.

 

And Yuzuru himself once told me that his mother and older sister would stay up late at night, sewing shiny crystals onto his figure skating costumes, one by one.

 

Hearing things like that only made me want to support him even more.

 

In October 2004, Yuzuru competed for the first time in the All-Japan Novice B Championships (for 9- to 10-year-olds), and he won the title.


He was growing steadily as a skater.

 

But it wasn’t just Yuzuru.


All the kids who came to the Sunday night core training were just as good at asking for help, and filled with the same passion, making me want to cheer them all on from the bottom of my heart.

 

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Chapter 1.3 - Adjusting the body axis during jumps

 

Spoiler

As Yuzuru’s body grew and developed as an athlete, the content of our conversations during massage sessions gradually began to change.

 

For example, when he was in the fourth grade, he once asked me about hydrating before training and competition.

 

“Sensei, how should I drink water during training and before a match?”

 

“When do people want to drink water?” I replied. “It’s when the concentration of their blood increases. Back in my day, no matter how thirsty we were during training, we weren’t allowed to drink water. But that was totally wrong. These days, it’s crucial to stay well-hydrated.”

 

He listened with great interest.

 

“Really? I see. Then can I just drink it all in one go?” he asked.

 

“No, no! You should only drink what your body can absorb. If you drink more than that, your stomach will start sloshing, right? Then you won’t be able to jump properly,” I answered, and Yuzuru's eyes sparkled.

 

I then taught him: “First, take one sip to moisten your mouth. Then drink twice more. If your throat still feels dry after that, just one more sip.”

 

He also asked about how to warm up before competitions.

 

“What’s the best way to warm up before the six-minute practice?”

 

In figure skating, each skater is given six minutes to practice on the ice right before their competition. At the time, I didn’t know much about it, so I used what I had learned from practicing Shorinji Kempo martial arts and taught him warm-up routines based on that.

 

Looking back now, figure skating and martial arts are completely different disciplines... I did something careless.

 

Even so, Yuzuru nodded seriously and listened attentively.

 

There was another time I brought up the topic of jumping, and he listened with keen interest.

 

“Hey Yuzuru, when you jump, your legs need to be fully extended,” I told him. "You can’t jump high just by using your ankles. Unless you engage the entire lower body—your hamstrings, hip joints, glutes, and core—you won’t get much height. Ideally, the line from your hips to your heels should form a straight line during the jump. Raising your body involves properly using your knees, hips, and waist. Of course, how you use your upper body, especially from your shoulders to your fingertips, also makes a big difference in your jump’s height."

 

While I talked about all this, Yuzuru just listened quietly.

 

“Most kids, when they try to jump, only use their ankles. But listen, Yuzuru, that’s not right. To use the ground’s reactive force effectively, your axis must not be off. If your legs are fully extended, your axis stays straight. That’s why your ankles need to be directly beneath your hips.”

 

At those words, Yuzuru’s eyes lit up.

 

To be honest, all of this was about jumping on solid ground, and it had almost nothing to do with figure skating jumps on ice.

 

After saying it so confidently, I suddenly realized the gap between the two sports and fell silent for a moment.

 

But the amazing thing about Yuzuru was that he could think for himself.

 

He’d interpret what I said in his own way, thinking, “If I try jumping with straight legs, would that work better on the ice?”


He could apply what he learned in his own unique way. That’s pretty remarkable for a child.

 

When he entered Tohoku High School, Yuzuru said to me: “Sensei, back when I was in elementary school, the jumping advice you gave me, those were land-based jumping techniques, right?”

 

“Well… yeah, I’ve since realized that figure skating jumps are probably different…” I mumbled in response.

 

Then he said: “But, when you told me to jump with my legs extended, I think I finally figured out what that feeling is.”

 

If you watch Yuzuru jump now, it’s clear.


It’s like an invisible string pulls him straight up into the air from the top of his head.


His axis stays perfectly centered.

 

That child always took what I said, processed it in his own way, and constantly thought about how to make it work for him.

 

 

(The rest of this section is about training methods and theoretical explanations, omitted without translation.)

 

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Chapter 1.4 - Dashing onto the world stage

 

Spoiler

When Yuzuru entered junior high school, the timing of his training camps and regular practices overlapped, so he had to "graduate" from my core training class.


However, I believe that during his elementary school years, he had consistently developed his core strength and other necessary physical abilities to a solid degree.

 

But of course, that alone wasn’t enough to produce the level of growth Yuzuru achieved.

 

It’s true that he trained weekly to build his abilities. I also taught him the importance of being mindful of his center axis while moving his body. As a result, his core became more stable, his unnecessary movements gradually decreased, and his balance significantly improved.

 

In addition, I often had him perform drills that involved reacting to different cues, requiring him to make distinct movements in response to specific visual or auditory signals.


These kinds of exercises likely enhanced his sensory-motor integration: how the brain processes information from the eyes and ears and then guides the muscles and joints to respond accurately and quickly.

 

However, I gave the same training and guidance to the other children as well.

 

What made Yuzuru different was his extremely sharp sensitivity to words like “get stronger,” “get better,” and “win,” even from the time he was in elementary school.
You could almost call it a kind of ambition.

 

And on top of that, he was sincere and open.


His desire to become better at skating, to grow stronger, and to win, was as pure as could be.


That’s why even though I knew nothing about figure skating, he always listened intently to my advice. He would try to find even the smallest clues in my words that could help him improve.

 

Even as a junior skater, he had a very strong competitive mindset.

 

Before departing for the World Junior Championships, which he won at age 15, he said to me: “Sensei, the World Juniors is the one I absolutely have to win.”

 

“Oh? Is that so?” I replied, and he continued: “At the World Juniors, there are many top-level skaters—some who couldn’t qualify for the Junior Grand Prix Final due to injury or bad luck. So the competition level is really high. That’s exactly why I want to win there.”

 

Even though he had already won the Junior Grand Prix Final, he wasn’t satisfied with that.

 

Just before the World Juniors, Yuzuru injured his knee. He asked me to teach him how to apply supportive taping, and of course, I shared everything I knew.

 

Even after stepping onto the international stage, Yuzuru still came to my osteopathic clinic after daily training or when he returned from competitions. He received massage, body adjustments, and taping treatment from me, just as he always had.

 

During those times, the Yuzuru I saw was still just a regular boy.

 

When I removed the tape from his foot that had been protecting an injury, he would shout: “Sensei! The pain is gone!” —cheering and bouncing with joy.

 

At times like that, he would start bragging a little (t/n: possibly about learning how to tape himself), so I’d jokingly say: “Fine, I’m not treating you anymore.”


Then he’d pout in mock frustration.

 

Even though he was now competing on the world stage, in front of me, he was still just a regular junior high school student.

 

 

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Chapter 1.5 - The Muscles Forged After the Earthquake 

 

Spoiler

After becoming the World Junior Champion and enrolling at Tohoku High School, Yuzuru Hanyu made his senior debut at just 15 years old. His first competition in the senior category was the 2010–11 Grand Prix NHK Trophy, held in October, where he landed a quadruple jump in official competition for the first time and finished in fourth place. The following month, in November, he placed seventh at the Grand Prix Rostelecom Cup in Moscow.

 

It was at the tail end of that debut senior season that the Great East Japan Earthquake struck.

 

At the time of the earthquake, I was working, treating four patients. My home and osteopathic clinic, being situated on elevated ground, escaped physical damage despite the violent shaking. However, the electricity, water, and gas soon went out.

 

I asked my patients, “What should we do now? You must be worried. Should we head back home?”

 

One of them replied, “Even if we go back now, there’s nothing we can do.”


So I continued the treatments, though I was clearly shaken.

 

After the patients left, I temporarily closed the clinic.

 

Before long, people whose homes had been washed away by the tsunami or collapsed in the quake began evacuating to a nearby gymnasium. After learning about this, I brought folding beds to the shelter and spent each day giving massages to the disaster victims.

 

The reason I did this was because on the night of the earthquake, I suddenly remembered something about my father. He was a strict former police officer who always prioritized the safety of others, a man of justice who lived his life for others. To this day, he remains the man I respect most.

 

“If it were my father, he would definitely be at the evacuation center, doing everything within his power to help,” I thought.

 

So I went to the shelter to do the one thing I knew I could—give massages.

 

Yuzuru also went through a difficult time.

 

On the day of the earthquake, Yuzuru had gone to practice after school at Ice Rink Sendai, as usual. That rink experienced a seismic intensity of upper 6 on the Japanese scale.

 

He felt the intense shaking and reportedly ran out of the rink wearing his skates. For a figure skater, their skates—specifically, the blades—are more precious than anything aside from their own life. Skaters always put protective guards on their blades as soon as they step off the ice, and they hate exposing the blades. But for him to flee in such a panic without even putting on blade guards, he must have been truly terrified.

 

His home was also at risk of collapsing at any moment. He spent four days in the gymnasium of a local elementary school that was functioning as a shelter. During that time, he seriously considered quitting figure skating altogether.

 

And yet, it was skating that ultimately brought him back.

 

The rink he had always trained at was destroyed in the disaster. Without a place to practice, Yuzuru received a message from his former coach, Shoichiro Tsuzuki, who had taught him the fundamentals of skating when he was still in elementary school. At the time, Coach Tsuzuki was working at a rink in Yokohama. So Yuzuru went to train at the rink where Tsuzuki was coaching.

 

It was around October, about half a year after the disaster, when Yuzuru returned to Sendai and visited my clinic. He told me what had happened during that time.

 

I already knew that he had been performing in ice shows and charity events around the country to support earthquake victims. I had read interviews in the newspaper where he said, “I want to give courage and strength to those affected by the disaster.” Over the five months following the earthquake, he performed in 60 ice shows across Japan.

 

“I was able to use the ice time before and between shows as training opportunities,” he told me, looking straight into my eyes.

 

I don’t know exactly what Yuzuru learned from that disaster or how it changed him mentally. But the moment I touched his legs again after a long while, I was overwhelmed. I could feel the effort in his muscles so clearly that I almost cried.

 

I’d seen Yuzuru’s body nearly every day since he was a child, I could notice even the slightest changes.

 

The muscles he developed after the disaster told the story of countless days filled with grueling training.

 

He had performed in ice shows to support the disaster victims, and in between, he had also trained intensely. During the shows, he must have poured his heart into each performance, wanting to communicate something meaningful to the audience.

 

The muscles he developed after the disaster weren’t just for executing jumps. They were also to withstand the impact of landing.

 

The shock absorbed by the body upon landing a jump can be several times the skater’s body weight. To handle that kind of impact, it’s essential to strengthen the muscles around the knees, as well as the gastrocnemius and tibialis anterior muscles in the lower legs. Without that strength, injuries can happen in an instant.

 

For him to grow such defined leg muscles in just half a year—just how many jumps had he done since the disaster? He must have fallen countless times, only to get back up and try again. What kind of training builds muscles like those?

 

Yuzuru’s leg muscles were entirely different from those of other athletes who came to my clinic.

 

His muscles weren’t built through conventional strength training. They were developed naturally through figure skating practice. In other words, they were muscles grown solely for skating.

 

That’s why, even now, he still says, “I don’t know how to ride a bicycle.”

 

It’s not that he can’t ride. What he likely means is that he doesn’t want to develop any muscle that isn’t necessary for figure skating.

 

The muscles used for cycling are the same ones used by speed skaters, who also compete on ice. In fact, cycling is part of off-season training for many speed skaters. For them, thick, sharply defined muscles in the legs are essential.

 

But figure skaters require softer, more flexible muscles. Developing large, bulky muscles can actually hinder a figure skater’s performance. The added weight can be a disadvantage when trying to jump.

 

Young children are able to land triple jumps easily because their bodies are light and they haven’t developed large muscles yet. However, to land quadruple jumps, you absolutely need powerful glutes and strong tendons. You also need solid foot strength to absorb the landing impact. That said, if the muscles become too bulky, they’ll weigh the skater down. At the elite level, that balance is everything.

 

And yet, Yuzuru overcame the disaster and developed muscles that were perfectly suited to executing quads and absorbing landings without being excessive.

 

Those well-developed legs were not just the result of hard training; they were a symbol of his experience during the earthquake, and the resolve he carried as a top athlete fighting on the world stage.

 

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Chapter 1.6 - Overcoming Hip Pain

 

Spoiler

The first time I accompanied Yuzuru as part of his competition team was at the 2011 Grand Prix Rostelecom Cup in November, his second year competing as a senior. In fact, it was also my first time traveling overseas as a trainer for an international competition. Actually, more than that, it was the very first time I had even watched a figure skating competition up close. Honestly, what kind of old man was I? Despite hearing Yuzuru talk about figure skating almost every day, I had never seen one of his competitions in person until then.

 

Up until that point, Yuzuru and I had only ever interacted at my clinic—diagnosing leg trouble, applying tape to stabilize his ankles. Our relationship was always that of a therapist and patient. And I felt that was enough.

 

Previously, I had worked as a sports trainer, but not for professional athletes. Supporting local high school and junior high students had already felt fulfilling to me. I had, in fact, accompanied teams from sports-heavy schools like Tohoku High School and Junior High as a team trainer, working with their swimmers, track and field athletes, and baseball players.

 

Still, once the students graduated, that was usually the end of my role as their trainer. Those who went on to pursue athletic careers would leave Sendai or hire full-time professional trainers elsewhere.

 

So when Yuzuru said to me, “The Rostelecom Cup is coming up. Sensei, will you come with me as my trainer?” I just answered casually, “Sure, why not?”

 

As an athlete, Yuzuru was steadily growing stronger.

 

I had once joked with him back in fourth grade: “Take me with you to international competitions and the Olympics, okay?”


I don’t know if he remembered that, but here that joke had come true. It was a deeply emotional moment for me.

 

Still, at the time, I thought of it more like a gesture of appreciation from Yuzuru for all the treatment I had given him.

 

“Well, I’m just doing the same therapy I’ve always done, only now it’s in Russia.”

 

That’s how I viewed it.

 

However, at that Rostelecom Cup, during official practice before the competition, Yuzuru injured his hip joint.

 

His injury was treated by the trainer assigned by the Japan Skating Federation. After all, I was just his personal trainer.

 

I learned about the injury later in Yuzuru’s hotel room. Even though the treatment had been completed, the pain remained. I was certain he wasn’t in any condition to skate. Honestly, it probably even hurt just to walk.

 

“In this situation, wouldn’t it be better to withdraw?”

 

But Yuzuru immediately responded, “Even if I have to push through it, I have to compete in the Rostelecom Cup.”

 

At the time, in order to qualify for the Grand Prix Final—a spot reserved only for those ranked among the top in the six Grand Prix events—Yuzuru had no choice but to win this competition.

 

It was only then that I truly realized: “I’ve become part of a world far more intense than I ever imagined.”

 

Yuzuru, entirely focused on competition, was driven less by the pain and more by his desire to compete, to win.


As a therapist, I would have naturally judged that he shouldn’t compete. But as a trainer, I couldn’t ignore his overwhelming will.

 

All I could do was carefully manage his hip and tape up his ankles before sending him out onto the ice. But honestly, I didn’t believe the pain would go away.

 

And yet… he did it.

 

At that Rostelecom Cup, even though he placed second in both the short program and free skate, his total score of 241.66 earned him his first Grand Prix victory, beating out strong competitors like Javier Fernández and Jeremy Abbott.

 

In that moment, I was in the stands, crying my eyes out.


Sure, I had done some treatment—but the injury was serious. Every jump must have caused him pain, especially the landing, which I’m sure was excruciating.

 

Yet aside from one mistake on the quad, he landed all seven of his jumps cleanly in the free skate.

 

That was the first time I fully understood: This is the brutal world Yuzuru is living in.

 

Many of the Japanese women around me in the audience were probably thinking, “Why is this old man crying like that?”


But I didn’t care in the slightest. I just wept openly. I was happy—truly happy.

 

That Rostelecom Cup became my first and probably last experience as a trainer traveling with Yuzuru to an international competition.

 

I returned to Sendai thinking: “That was a beautiful memory. I’m grateful.”

 

After that, I no longer traveled with him to competitions. I stayed at the clinic, treating my patients as usual. Occasionally, when Yuzuru returned from competitions, I would take care of his body again.

 

But even so, from then on, his rise was astonishing.

 

After winning the Rostelecom Cup, Yuzuru placed fourth at the Grand Prix Final. Then at the 2011–12 World Championships, he competed for the first time and won bronze, becoming the youngest Japanese male skater (at 17 years and 3 months) to ever stand on the Worlds podium.

 

Then, in April 2012, Yuzuru relocated his training base from Sendai to Toronto, Canada.

 

When he wasn’t overseas competing, I used to see him almost every day at the clinic. We had spent ten years together. So of course, there was a bit of loneliness.

But… that kid moved to Canada because he wanted to become stronger.


Yuzuru made that decision because he wanted to reach even greater heights in figure skating.


In a sense, he had “graduated” from me.

 

“Well then, Sensei, I’m off!”

 

Just like every time he left for an overseas competition, Yuzuru set off from Sendai and started on another journey.

 

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Chapter 2.1 - First time with an ID pass at Fukuoka GPF

 

Spoiler

At the age of 17, Yuzuru had already become a World Championships medalist. After that, he transferred his training base to the Toronto Cricket Club in Canada. This prestigious club, led by legendary coach Brian Orser, was equipped with choreographers and coaches specializing in off-ice training. It was in such an ideal environment that Yuzuru trained.

 

Once Yuzuru moved across the ocean to Canada, he would return to see me maybe a few times a year. It had a kind of “just dropping by the old home in Sendai” feeling to it.

 

But then came the 2013–14 season, which would lead into the Sochi Olympics. One day, I received a message from Yuzuru on my mobile phone. It was about three weeks before the Grand Prix Final, which was to be held at Marine Messe in Fukuoka in December 2013.

 

“Sensei, can I ask a favor? Would you come to the Grand Prix Final in Fukuoka and be my trainer?”

 

At that time, Yuzuru’s team already had a dedicated professional trainer. In fact, the same trainer had traveled with him to the Canadian and French Grand Prix events earlier in the season. I even pointed this out to Yuzuru.

 

He replied, “There are just some things that aren’t quite going right. I’d really like you to take a look.”

 

I assumed it would be like the Rostelecom Cup before, just helping tape his ankles in his hotel room. But this time, he asked me to come to the venue itself and observe him up close.

 

Since this was a domestic competition, I figured it might be a one-time request. So I agreed, thinking, “Alright, alright, I’ll come.”

 

When I reunited with Yuzuru in Fukuoka, he explained that he’d been feeling something off with his warm-ups.

 

In figure skating, there's about 60 minutes of warm-up time before putting on skates and stepping onto the ice. Yuzuru had been building his own warm-up routine by gathering advice from various people and observing what other athletes did.

 

But recently, it seemed like his last-minute adjustments just weren’t going smoothly.

 

To be honest, I had accepted his request way too casually, thinking, “Yeah, sure.” But now I was actually a bit troubled. After all, I only had knowledge of how martial artists warm up before matches.

 

In Shorinji Kempo martial arts, I usually did a bit of jogging and light resistance training to raise my body temperature before competing. Relaxing the muscles and joints also helped prevent injury. Plus, getting into the right mental state was crucial.  Going forward to the competition thinking: “Alright, time to show them what I’ve got!” That kind of fired-up energy was important too.

 

But I wasn’t sure whether that kind of warm-up would work for figure skating...

 

Still, with those doubts in mind, I started thinking about what kind of pre-competition warm-up would suit Yuzuru.

 

This time was different from the Rostelecom Cup two years ago—I had a full access pass. I could enter the same zones as the athletes: the rinkside, warm-up area, and locker rooms.

 

I said to Yuzuru in an all-knowing tone, “You know why we warm up, right? To prevent injuries!”

 

And then I guided him through a warm-up routine that included light jogging, sprint bursts, and lateral hopping exercises.

 

In the same warm-up area, I saw Patrick Chan quietly doing his warm-ups. At the time, he was the world’s top-ranked skater, and even someone like me—who knew nothing about figure skating—had heard of him.

 

I thought, “I bet there’s a lot to learn from watching a top athlete like him,” and kept a close eye on his routine.

 

Even though the warm-up methods I used were based on martial arts, Yuzuru broke the world record in the short program at that competition. He also placed first in the free skate, and for the first time, won the Grand Prix Final.

 

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Chapter 2.2 - Serving as Trainer for His First Winter Olympics

 

Spoiler

Afterward, Yuzuru participated in the National Championships held in the same month.

 

This competition, held at the Saitama Super Arena, was also the qualifier for the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics.

 

Although it was an important competition for securing a spot at the Olympics, Yuzuru still appeared very relaxed. Winning against Patrick Chan, the reigning world champion, at the Grand Prix Final in Fukuoka must have given him a boost of confidence.

 

Then, on the day after dominating the National Championships, the official announcement of the Olympic men's singles representative was made. (The details about the selection are omitted here.)

 

“Honestly, I’m really happy. But this is just the starting line,” Yuzuru told the media after it was confirmed that he would be competing in his first Olympic Games.

 

It’s truly remarkable. Ever since that kid was in elementary school, he’d always talk about wanting to participate in the Olympics. Even when I told him, "Stop pestering me and shut up, let me massage you!" he would keep saying, "Olympics, Olympics!" and wouldn’t stop. Now, that dream has come true.

 

That said, from this point onward, the team’s Canadian trainer would likely take over for the big stage. This time, I felt like it was really “my work is done here.” So, I returned to Sendai.

 

A few days after that, Yuzuru’s father suddenly showed up at our clinic, handed me a piece of paper, and said, “Please, may we have your help.”

 

I was a bit confused as I looked at the paper, which turned out to be a size registration form for the Olympic team uniforms and athletic wear.

 

“I hope you can come with us to the Olympics. It will take about a month of your time…” Yuzuru's father made this request.


“Wait, wait, why me?” I found myself still nervously answering without really thinking.

 

Although I had traveled with him to the GPF and the National Championships, those were domestic competitions. For international events, especially something as major as the Olympics, I thought it would make more sense for a dedicated trainer to handle it. So, I didn’t give an immediate response.

 

Despite that, Yuzuru’s father continued, “Please, sensei, by all means.”

 

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Chapter 2.3 - Relax to Win the Gold Medal

 

Spoiler

At the Sochi Olympics, Yuzuru participated in both the team event and the individual event.

 

At the time of the Sochi Olympics, he was still only 19 years old, so he didn’t feel much pressure and wasn’t afraid. My role was to assist with his pre-competition warm-ups, as well as provide ice therapy and physical care after his performances.

 

Yuzuru had a renowned coach like Brian Orser. Some might think that things like warm-ups and physical condition management would also fall under the coach’s purview, but Brian always took on more of a comprehensive producer-type role. Things like choreography and costumes were clearly divided and handled by designated specialists. And overseeing everything on top of that was Coach Brian.

 

The athlete's physical care, however, was my responsibility as the trainer. Brian didn’t give me specific instructions; I had to make sure Yuzuru’s body was in perfect condition before the official competition.

 

Just as Brian didn’t observe Yuzuru’s warm-up, I wouldn’t presume to give advice on his figure skating techniques. After all, I was a complete outsider when it came to figure skating, and there was no way I could offer useful suggestions. This was also my fourth time watching figure skating up close, and it was only my second overseas competition.

 

Still, I could feel the intensity of the Olympic stage, and it left a deep impression on me.

 

I could feel the energy of the skaters as they stepped onto the ice. Even the athletes I had always seen on TV with their kind and gentle demeanor showed a different side of themselves in the locker room, displaying expressions of being pushed to the edge.

 

I could truly feel how much pressure the Olympic stage exerted on Yuzuru. That said, Yuzuru himself didn’t seem weighed down by it at all. He approached it like just another competition, staying completely relaxed.

 

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Chapter 2.4 - Running Through the Streets of Sochi

 

Spoiler

While Yuzuru approached the Sochi Olympics in a relaxed state, for me, it was a series of big failures.

 

To begin with, when planning Yuzuru's warm-up routine for Sochi, I referenced Patrick Chan’s regimen—but it turned out to be completely unsuitable for Yuzuru.

 

Before the official practice, I had him try out the warm-up I’d put together, but it just left Yuzuru gasping for air.


The reason was actually quite simple: Patrick and Yuzuru were on completely different levels physically at that time.

 

So, what worked well for someone with Patrick’s stamina was entirely unusable for Yuzuru.

 

Right up until the team event officially began, Yuzuru and I were scrambling together to create a new warm-up routine. What a careless trainer I was.

 

Speaking of carelessness, I even made a mistake that, frankly, should have cost me my qualification as a trainer: I didn’t bring enough athletic tape, which for me is practically my livelihood.

 

Normally, Yuzuru would train once a day. But in Sochi, he was skating twice a day on the ice.

 

And every time he put on his skates, we had to reapply the tape all over again.


With the increased frequency of training, the supply I brought from Japan ran out in no time.

 

So I ended up rushing all over the streets of Sochi trying to buy more athletic tape.


I searched for pharmacies and sporting goods stores, but all the signs were in Russian, so I couldn’t understand them at a glance. I went into every shop that looked like it might carry tape, but then came the next hurdle: I couldn’t explain what I wanted.


I tried using English and hand gestures, and eventually managed to buy a bit, but still not enough.

 

That whole fiasco must have reached the staff at the Japan Skating Federation, because they came to me and said: “We’ll take care of getting the tape. Please focus on supporting the athlete.”

 

If only I had just consulted with the federation from the beginning.


I must have been too nervous to notice anything around me.

 

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Chapter 2.5 - The Careless Trainer Who Made the Athlete Anxious

 

Spoiler

Helping athletes manage their mental state is one of a trainer’s most important responsibilities.


And yet, at the Sochi Olympics, I did nothing but disturb Yuzuru’s peace of mind. My biggest mistake happened on the morning of his free skate.

 

The day before, in the short program, Yuzuru landed all of his jumps successfully, earning a world record score of 101.45 points. He went into the free skate in first place.

 

The official morning practice for the free skate was set to begin at 10:00 AM.


Factoring in warm-up time, we should have left the Olympic Village by 8:00.


And since I needed to tape his ankle beforehand, I was supposed to go to his room at around 7:30 AM.

 

But his short program the day before had been so perfect, and just thinking about the upcoming free skate made my heart race like crazy...


I grew restless and ended up leaving my own room early. I went to Yuzuru’s room 40 minutes earlier than scheduled.

 

“Huh? Sensei, what’s wrong? You’re really early,” he said when he saw me.

 

“Oh, nothing really. I just thought it’d be bad if I messed up the taping, so I figured I’d come a little early,” I said, trying to brush it off.


But clearly, I was in a complete state of panic. If I’m being honest, I had totally lost my composure.

 

Because the press conference after his short program had gone long, Yuzuru didn’t get back to his room until after 1:00 AM.


What he really needed was as much rest as possible, but there I was saying, “Okay, time to tape your ankle.”

 

“Huh? Already?” he said.

 

But I didn’t care. All I could think was, What do I do? What do I do?!—just spinning out in my own anxiety, making things worse.

 

Yuzuru had been doing everything he could to maintain a calm mindset, so as not to fall victim to the so-called “Olympic curse” that causes athletes to underperform under the immense pressure.


He was fighting the Olympic demon with everything he had, using every tactic he could think of to stay in the zone.

 

But the one who should’ve been fighting alongside him—his trainer—was just getting in the way.


I don’t think anything I did had a positive effect on him.


Looking back, during the Sochi Olympics, my behavior was completely irrational and devoid of common sense.

 

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Chapter 2.6 - The Gold Medal that the Goddess Smiled Upon

 

Spoiler

I stood at the edge of the rink, holding Yuzuru’s gear, watching his free skate performance.

 

But then, he fell on the opening quad Salchow (4S), and even his combination jumps had mistakes.


By the second half of the program, his energy was depleted, and he finished with a performance that was far from his true capabilities.

 

He came back to the boards wearing a frustrated expression and murmured quietly, “There’s no way I’m getting gold now...”


I couldn’t say a word in response.

 

At the Kiss & Cry, while waiting for his scores, Yuzuru’s face remained completely expressionless.

 

It wasn’t until later, during media interviews, that he realized he had secured the gold medal.

 

Both Yuzuru and I had assumed it would be silver, but the score of Patrick Chan who skated after him wasn’t enough to surpass him, and Yuzuru ended up taking the gold.


That moment truly felt like the goddess smiled on him.

 

“I’m in first place... I’m really shocked. Even though I’m not satisfied with how I skated today...”

 

He looked dazed, almost confused, while being interviewed by the international press.

 

As for me, I was quietly crying while icing his legs. Of course, I was overjoyed that he had won the gold medal.

 

But from the very moment his free skate ended, Yuzuru never once showed any sense of satisfaction at being crowned Olympic champion.

 

To him, the gold medal he earned at 19 years old was just a checkpoint. What he desires is to succeed in a technique that no one has done before, such as the quad axel jump. And beyond that, he wanted to deliver a perfect, mistake-free performance.

 

In that sense, the Sochi Olympics didn’t match the ideal he had envisioned.


Even after becoming Olympic champion, he didn’t revel in it. During his time in Sochi, any free moment he had, he spent practicing at the rink.

 

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Chapter 2.7 - A New Battle Begins

 

Spoiler

During the approximately one month I spent at the Sochi Olympics, my osteopathic clinic had to temporarily close. Because of that, things became financially difficult.

 

Before I left for the Olympics, my wife encouraged me, saying: “Traveling the world is one of your dreams. If it’s something you want to do, then go for it.”


She sent me off with those words, but I imagine managing the household expenses must have been tough for her too.

 

After the Olympics, I stepped down from my role as Yuzuru’s trainer, and I told myself that from now on, I would cherish my time with my wife more.

 

After becoming an Olympic champion, the world around Yuzuru changed dramatically. Sponsors swarmed in, and the level of attention he received was no longer comparable to before.


Naturally, I assumed that top-tier trainers working globally would soon be by his side.

 

His programs continued to grow more complex and demanding, and his skating kept evolving.


To me, he had become someone far beyond my reach.

 

So, in order not to fall short of what he had entrusted to me, I started thinking about what I could do on my own path.

 

One of those things was applying the experience I had gained to better help the patients at my osteopathic clinic.

 

Since I had accompanied Yuzuru to competitions, I began approaching treatment with a much more focused and investigative mindset.


Though my work as his dedicated trainer lasted only about three months, he had led me to experience the grand stage of the Olympics.


I started to wonder: Could that experience now help me ease the suffering of my own patients?

 

Before the Sochi Olympics, I was always trying a little of this and that—greedily mixing different treatment techniques. I’d think, “Alright, that should stop the pain,” and I would be satisfied with myself.

 

Maybe some people think as long as the pain goes away, it’s fine. But that’s wrong.


It’s not that my skills were good. It just happened that my treatment matched the patient’s condition by chance.


But for patients whose bodies didn’t respond to my methods, it was completely ineffective... and that’s meaningless.

 

Whether a patient’s pain has truly healed, you can tell from the look on their face when they leave.


If it’s not that deeply relieved expression they wear when they're truly healed, then it wasn’t enough.

 

Before Sochi, I don’t think I was really observing their expressions closely.


Sure, I’d heard patients say things like, “Doctor, you’re really good,” but more than praise like that, what I wanted to see was a genuine smile from the bottom of their hearts.

 

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Chapter 2.8 - Addressing Athletes’ “Izui”

 

Spoiler

Treating athletes has always been something deeply fascinating to me.

 

With regular patients, when they say, “The pain’s gone,” I feel a sense of satisfaction—“That’s good, that’s good.” But competitive athletes and kids aspiring to become athletes are different. Their standards are higher.

 

In the Sendai dialect, there’s a word—“イズイ” (izui)—which expresses a sense of discomfort, awkwardness, or something just not feeling right. Athletes aren’t satisfied just because the pain has gone away. They’ll still say things like, “It just still feels off,” and leave with a face that clearly shows their unease.

 

For athletes with sharp body awareness, that kind of reaction is natural. Some kids even came to me and said, “Doctor, I feel like I’m in terrible form.”

 

In the past, I might’ve brushed it off with something like, “What do you even know about form?” only to hear them respond, “I don’t know, it just feels... weird.”

 

If it were me from before, I probably would’ve dismissed them, saying, “You’re just not in the right mindset.” But after experiencing firsthand what athletes like Yuzuru go through, I couldn’t be so careless anymore.

 

I started asking myself, “If this were Yuzuru, what would I do?”


That mindset made me take athletes from other sports more seriously as well.

 

There’s so much to learn from treating others.

 

I still remember what one patient told me two years after I opened my clinic: “It’s been a while since I came here, but your treatment hasn’t changed at all.”

 

At first, I thought, “Well, my techniques are solid. I don’t change them much.”


But when the patient left, the expression on their face looked... disappointed.

 

At the time, my methods included low-frequency therapy, massage, kinesiology tape, moist compresses, and taping. Was there anything wrong with that...?

 

After that, I started actively seeking out new methods.


When I heard Thai traditional massage was effective, I went to Thailand to study.


When I learned about Ayurveda, I immediately sought out an expert.

 

As I dove deeper into the world of techniques to relieve and eliminate pain, I came across information about spiral taping—where you apply tape in a spiral pattern to relieve pain and improve body balance. I sought out skilled practitioners to learn more.

 

In addition, the cause of pain is the stagnation of the flow of blood, lymph and endocrine fluid in the human body. I heard about the remote collateral therapy that uses a pressure stick to treat this.

 

“Relieving pain without directly touching the affected area, just by using a pressure rod... what kind of treatment is that?”

 

At the time, I had absolutely no understanding of it. Still, I went and knocked on the doors of clinics that specialized in this method, seeking to learn.

 

Gradually, I found myself drawn into the depths of traditional Eastern medicine.

 

I wanted to truly master the ability to eliminate pain. After having a taste of the world stage through Yuzuru, my desire to improve was reignited.

 

And after my major blunders as a trainer at Sochi, I also began researching how to best support athletes during their pre-competition conditioning.

 

Is warming up simply about loosening the muscles and joints to increase body temperature? Or should it be tailored to the demands of each sport? If it’s figure skating, then how should it be approached?

 

Endless questions filled my head:

What kind of physical condition is best for competing?

What mental state leads to peak performance?

 

I wrestled with these topics every day, studying warm-up techniques for elite athletes and refining my own skills.


But the more I learned, the more I realized how narrow my world used to be—and that overwhelmed me.


Then, I’d claw my way out again. This cycle repeated itself...

 

And at the base of it all was the lingering guilt of having let down a gold medalist.

 

I also had a small hope, deep in my heart: “If one day, Yuzuru calls on me again, this time I want to do everything I can to support him properly.”

 

After Sochi, I got many interview requests from media outlets. Some even came directly to my clinic to plead with me in person.

 

But when I thought about my failure at Sochi, the shame was just too much. I couldn't bring myself to accept any interviews.

 

After that, some parts of the media started labeling me things like “a shady therapist” or “Chakra shaman.” There were even rumors going around saying “Hanyu has been brainwashed.”

 

But honestly, that doesn’t bother me. I am a quirky old man, after all. Call me what you want.

 

What matters more is helping people in pain, because that core desire to support Yuzuru is still inside me.

 

To solve their 'izui', not just for athletes but also for anyone who are building up their bodies.

 

That has now become my new goal.

 

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