Saturday 27 July 2013

Just do the best you can


"You just do the best you can for that day, and that is all," said Su. He was the yoga teacher for the session I was in. We were talking about the best way to approach his hot yoga classes other than crying and collapsing from the pain.

"If you see others doing better than you, don't compare. They're different. You're different. Everyday, you challenge yourself. Do better than last time. Do the best you can in that moment," he said.

He made a beautiful point. The part about not comparing yourself struck a chord because I was ruminating that exact thought a couple of weeks back, but 'doing your best for that moment' was a gem.

How often have you put stuff on hold just because you weren't feeling it? How often have you not started on your reports because they were too tedious? How about washing the dishes because you thought you could leave them for tomorrow? Or what about not going to the gym because you were feeling tired?

How different would your life be if you thought to yourself 'I want to do the best I can today'? I, for one, know that if I were to take up that saying sooner, I'd be in a totally different place than I am right now.

People often have a common opinion when observing in retrospect. "If I did X, I'd surely be Y by now." Smokers would rant about how much money they'd have saved if they didn't smoke. Fat people—or at least those who think they're fat—would scoff at the desserts they had accompanying their even larger meal. Procrastinators would wish they worked harder and not read their goal list a year later realising they haven't even got started.

Now I know that dragging your ass to the gym might be the last thing you'd want to do, especially after a commute in the traffic jam sans a long day's work, and I know that quitting smoking might be something that only happens in fairytale land, but that's the point. 

I know all these actions take up all of your energy, and possibly all of what you can afford to put out, but that's why it's so important to give it your best just for that day.

You might think that little cancer stick isn't going to hurt you, or just one more burger isn't going to make you fat, or that lazing the day away is going to be a rare occurrence, but that's the exact thinking process that's going to be your downfall.

Some people even choose to ignore it, justifying that their lunch decisions surely can't be that huge of a decision, and end up making bad decisions that accumulate to a less than ideal bigger picture.

Understandably, this is something hard to do. This is something everyone preaches yet when they think no one's looking, they take the easy way out.

So back at the gym, I made a mental note about this topic and thanked Su. By the time I've prepared and eaten dinner, took a bath, finished some work for the next day, groomed myself and cleaned the room, I was pretty much spent and decided to write this article the day after. But I still had an hour before bedtime, and I could try to write a shitty first draft, or just laze until I slept.

Of course, if I chose the latter, you wouldn't be reading this piece.

Thursday 18 July 2013

Compare yourself to no one but yourself



"My son, I keep telling him not to go after that woman—"
"You gotta put the potatoes in first, then—"
"The other day, Ling said I grew fatter. If that bitch only saw—"

I was jogging at the field near my house the other day and snippets of conversation pass me by as I ran past people. Depending on speed, I either heard just bits and pieces, or essays. As I was doing my share of mobile eavesdropping, sounds of rubber pounding the pavement caught up behind me.

A girl ran past, tight Nike workout gear gripping her curves. It was her again. She's a regular runner, and I see her every time I run in that field. She had a gait of a professional, and I felt a slight tingle in my loins, just a tad though, because the majority of my blood was allocated to my legs. I tried keeping up with her and she smoked me without so much as breathing heavy. I imagined myself sprinting past her in the final lap, with spectators looking on and cheering for me because I was the underdog. Everyone roots for the underdog.

But that wasn't going to happen. She was that quick. After I've racked up my miles, I slowed down to a walk to cool down. I noticed a couple of guys ahead ogling over girls in yoga pants. As I neared, Jock A said "Hey, check out that fat guy. Don't you think it's a little to late to start working out?"

They were making fun of a heavy guy, probably 200 pounds. He was panting from walking alone, and his knees barely looked like they could support his weight. The fat that sagged over his wrists and knees shook like vibrating jelly as he made his own attempt at brisk walking.

B chuckled. "Yeah, he should just stay home and forget about it."

Now I'd like to say that I'm a nice person, and nice people usually treat people like this with an upside smack to the head. It's just that there were two of them. I would've also appreciated it if they were at a height I could contend better with, say 5'1". I imagined walking up to them and putting them in their place.

"Why so disrespectful?" I'd say as the back of my hand crosses his cheek. Then they'd get up and proceed to beat the shit out of me. But everybody would cheer for me. Everybody always roots for the underdog. I gave up daydreaming and snapped back to reality.

I looked at poor Mr. Jelly. What more do they want from this guy? He knows he's fat and he's putting in the work. Why hate?

As I passed them I started to be more aware of the runners. Some people were there for their daily gossip. Some, like Ms. Gait are serious runners. Some were just enjoying the weather. Some probably thought they had one too many beers over the weekend and that five minutes of jogging would magically rid them of their belly. I was there because I love running. Everyone there had their own reasons.


Mr. Jelly was probably there because he was  fed up of being fat. Or maybe his doctor said he better get serious about losing weight if he wanted to see past 40. Maybe his girlfriend just dumped him. I don't know, but it's unfair to laugh at him just because he looked different.

That field was like life. Everyone brought their whole life's beliefs and experiences along with their daily routine that there's nothing to compare them with. That old man who could barely walk two laps probably earns more money in a day than you do in a month. Ms. Gait could probably outrun you in a marathon. The jocks might have looked better than everyone there but might have nothing else going on in their lives. Couple the uniqueness of everyone to the different circumstances they're in, and there's nothing to compare. We're all the same, but totally different at the same time.

I then realised how that cheesy saying 'the only person you should compare yourself to is yourself' actually made perfect sense. I smiled at this thought, so wide that onlookers probably thought I was overdosing on runner's high.

Why bother how much that person earns, or how good looking they are? They're them, and you're you. You'll never be them, and they'll never be you. It doesn't mean you shouldn't be striving to be the best you can be. Just look at it this way. No one else can be you, better than you.

I mused on until twilight wrested its hold over the final remnants of sunset. Most people were making their way home, but not Mr. Jelly. I left the field feeling like I've learned a valuable lesson, and somewhere deep inside I was cheering for Mr. Jelly, because everyone roots for the underdog.