You ever do something you look back at a couple minutes after you’ve done it, and ask yourself, “Why in the world did I do that?” No? Me neither.
Sarcasm aside today I had the privilege of teaching myself a lesson in humility and an aspect of good leadership: the ability to delegate. I was hauling a heavy load from the car full of things that… never mind about all that, the bottom line is the load was heavy, that’s all you need to know. If you know me, you’ll know I never liked weights, or the gym. As a result (shockingly) I’m never the most muscular guy in the room, heck that’s true even if I’m the only guy in the room. The thing is I’d single-handedly put this darn suitcase in the car by myself the first time around. Why would I need help bringing it back down? Unfortunately there’s already a misconception in that statement. When I was bringing it down my mind was so fixated on the high I got from putting the massive load in the car in the first place that I had forgotten how hard it was to do on my own. When offloading the monstrously large case I was in the presence of two other able young men who were waiting around to help. A leader or anyone with a sizeable amount of reason would have used the otherworldly magical ability often known as “language” to “communicate” to the young men and “ask” for “help”. Now I know I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, indeed these are extremely complex terms – but I didn’t ask for assistance and I busted my ass trying to get said enormous shipment to its destination. Surprise surprise, when I managed it I didn’t feel the rush of accomplishment of having moved the gargantuan cargo further than I had initially (in front of a crowd no less). There was no rush of excitement; no cerebral applause accompanied my ragged panting. There was none of that – only back pain.
From the balls of my feet to the nape of my neck is a low-burning sensation. With each motion (more likely attempted motion) the flames are stoked and burn brightly. My limbs have been rendered near useless. I feel as if my bones have transformed into jelly – my muscle fibres into marshmallow. Sitting up my lower back screams at me, crying tears of sweat for the slowest motion. As I lie down again my calves beg for relief. Just one session of parkour, “just a taster” they said and I feel I’ve had my fill for seven generations. And yet I absolutely loved it. I’m no masochist but I’ve never felt better. Each step takes more effort than the last. At times I feel as though I’m one hundred years older; putting on clothes or getting out of bed feel like impossible tasks. But each time I manage to do something, even the really simple things, the euphoria kicks in. I have gained a greater appreciation for every part of my body – because at long last I now feel every part of that body. Oh it’s pain alright… but it’s so damn good… it’s good pain.
Perhaps I should have listened to myself and one funny brunette I know. Maybe I should frequent the best place for my body, the secret the world would love to hear about; in her own words: “Gym!”
Or maybe I’ll go back to the parkour session next week. Maybe I’ll shake off the cobwebs in my underused muscles and awaken them with a sweet, sweet dose of good old pain.
You know that bit of wisdom that you get when you ask for advice? When you’re feeling really hurt, mad, annoyed or desperate?
“I need help with this!”
“Could you please just hear me out…”
Then those that were listening have the nerve to give you reasonable advice? They tell you the words you needed to hear, even if you didn’t want to, no – especially when you didn’t want to. In the end you’re frustrated because they leave you empty of that anger. You wanted to be mad but in the end you’re filled with peace. They shared their wisdom; their reason, when all you wanted was someone to back you up. Those people are definitely on your side. They are backing you up. Those are the people you should put more effort loving, cherishing and keeping… because that painful advice we just described earlier, is the best wisdom you’ll ever receive.