Nanakorobi yaoki is a Japanese proverb. It means, ‘fall down seven times, get up eight’. Nothing new, nothing revolutionary. Yet, it is motivation enough if one pays attention to their life.
Can you recall your early childhood when you would play outdoors with a few friends? Either on the ground or in the gully, down the corridor of one’s apartment or in a nearby park. Or even an indoor game with your cousins on a hot summer day? I am sure we all have vivid memories of those times. Can you also recollect how many times you would have lost in those games and how many times you would have won? Maybe not as clear as the memory of playing itself. That’s the beauty of a selfless endeavour. Something we do for fun, and enjoy as a game, where the losses do not hurt, and the victories do not count.
So what changes when we grow older? What prompts us to drop an endeavour the first time we meet defeat in it? I was forced to think on these lines when I felt acute shame, turning up to work out in my gym, after ten months of skipping my routine. It was work sometimes. It was travelling some other times. I had lost two more months to an injury. The excuses seemed reasonable and readily available. I was fully aware of how I was undoing the progress I had made the year before. There was no one else to blame but myself. Hence, when I dusted my shoes, packed my bag and turned up at the gym, I could not bear to see myself in the mirror.
Not because I had gained a few kilos or become weaker, but because I had failed myself.
This was not the first time in my life, either. My parents had always encouraged my brothers and me to pursue some form of physical activity throughout our lives. We were all actively learning karate, going for swimming lessons and playing some sports at school. I was terrible at all of them, except swimming, which I personally enjoyed. I was never athletic. I saw myself pale in comparison to the others in school who could run like the wind and smash everything on the volleyball court. I easily gave up on my physical fitness after I graduated from school, when my parents no longer determined how I went about my day.
Then again, after college and through my early years at work, I saw classmates and colleagues who could still make time to go for a run, or make it to early morning yoga classes. I thought I should, too. I tried yoga. For a month. Before I slipped and hurt myself and decided it was not for me.
While I enjoyed the occasional treks and hikes with Chyk members and my friends, it felt traumatic because of my poor physical form. I saw myself failing over and over in any physical activity. It could never be something meant for me. ‘You are better off reading, writing and honing your skills at other things’, a voice in my head would tell me.
And despite such stubborn tamas to pick myself up and get going, I would harbour insane ambitions in my head. Watching Grand Slam tournaments on TV, I would think it would be so great to have the agility of a Nadal or a Djokovic. I would marvel at footballers going ninety minutes without a break, knowing very well that I would pant in just two minutes at a medium pace on a treadmill in an air-conditioned room. Pathetic. I would see friends and acquaintances trek to Everest Base Camp and delude myself into thinking that it is something easily doable.
Yet I kept giving up on my own fitness. Unless some rude awakening pushed me back to the gym, like a cramp in my leg after an easy stroll, or going breathless after the second flight of stairs, or my back giving way while lifting my dog at the vet. ‘You can’t fail at something so basic. Try again’, I reminded myself.
The same Nadal I admire is known for his resilience. His ability to bounce forward after losing two sets in a match. It’s never too late to try again. There is no ego in striving and striving again, if life is just a game. While shame sits on my shoulder like a creepy weight, I want to remind myself of the girl who did not bother losing to her friends and cousins while she was young. She was bad at sports, but she had fun.
So, once more, I pick myself up. Get to the gym and try to have some fun. And I promise myself that if I fall the eighth time, I will still get up at nine.
