Yesterday was South Dorchester School’s track meet. Kids from Grade 3 to 6 strutted their stuff. Many athletes were on display, throwing, jumping and running to exquisite lengths. I enjoyed their performance but was especially taken with other students.
I saw one girl far back from the field in the Grade 6 girls’ 800 metre run. Another girl went back to run with her, to encourage her. They crossed the finish line with their arms over each other’s shoulder. Just awesome. What sports should be about.
I watched as some kids jumped only half as far as others in the long jump. And I saw lots of children get their footing all mixed up in the hop, step and jump. Gobs of anguish on the field. Many adults and students encouraged the kids who simply weren’t athletes.
Are the less physically accomplished less valuable as human beings? Not for a second.
These lessons made perfect sense but they weren’t gut wrenching, since I wasn’t running, jumping and throwing. They became up close and personal a few hours later, however.
Last night was the first yoga class of six offered at the Belmont Library. I signed up for the series and headed down. My classmates were nine women, with grey hair well represented. I had tried a few classes without much success but now it was time to get back on the horse.
I hadn’t counted on a bucking bronco.
Sitting down with my legs out ahead, I could hardly bend forward. My feet were a land too far.
Standing on one foot lasted approximately three seconds each time, before toppling behaviour ensued.
Lunging forward sent pain through various body parts, and I had to give myself relief before the sequence of poses was complete.
Throughout all this, my brain brought me back to the kids. How they struggled. How I tried to encourage them. And now it was time to encourage me. My skills and strength were far below my companions’. So what? To use a martial arts term, I was “on the mat”. I had shown up in the yoga room and was doing my best. The same as those kids. They had walked out to the track, to the ball throwing field, to the long jump pit. And they gave what they had.
I think we’re all fine people. It’s one thing to be on public display when you’re good at something. Quite something else when your skills are low and your strength ebbing. Life seems to throw gain and loss at us, both in liberal portions. With a little help from our friends, we can handle it.