A light tap is all I heard as the
heavy glass door to the health club closed behind me. A
morning not unlike any Thursday morning. It was shortly after
8am and I was about to begin my regular 75 minute workout.
Actually some workouts are 72 minutes long because the other hip-hop
cd I give the staff to play is 72 minutes in length.
"Would you like to hear you usual CD",
Woo Jin said with his usual morning smile right on cue.
"Gamsa Hamnida." I replied. That
means "Thank you" in Hanguel.
I carried about with my morning
routine. Got changed and then ran back to get a towel
from the rack that is next to the entrance way door. After all
this time, you would think I would remember to get that towel
instead of making an extra trip to the other side of the
gym.
There might have been a few less women
on the treadmills but other than that, it was a morning born out of
routine.
The sun was shining radiantly through
the floor to ceiling windows that surrounded three sides of the
third floor fitness centre. It was a beautiful morning and I
felt great. In less than two hours, I would be in a classroom
with a lot of children needing my attention so I make a point to
enjoy this calm part of my weekday mornings.
I was experiencing one of my longest
and hardest sets of presses and had just begun to settle into an
upper body routine when a person who was to change my world entered
the building. A sleek moving senior Asian gentlemen walked
along the floor in front of my gaze that was focused on the new
building being built across the street.
I had heard the back door close as he
entered but it was only after I saw him that it registered that I
had heard a door close.
His footsteps made no
noise. He was dressed sporty and modern. He wore a
red Nike jacket, black shiny nylon trackpants, a crewneck long
sleeved brown shirt and dark socks. He also wore silver rimmed
glasses that managed to compliment a powerful smile over his broad
face. His medium sized athletic frame was for the most part
hidden under his jacket and trackpants. His age was anywhere
between fifty and a hundred.
He went to the front desk where Woo
Jin and him had a brief discussion of one thing or another. I
went back to my routine and as I often do, fell into a nice daydream
while working out.
The daydream came to an abrupt end
when he again came into my field of vision. He was
headed straight towards my workout station. Without
provocation, when he knew I was looking, his body went limp and he
jerked around like he was a living bonesless chicken.
He then pointed at me.
And then he pointed to his limp
body.
And then he pointed at me.
This fellow was making fun of me in
front of all of the patrons of the gym. But something was
unusual about his mocking me. I wasn't offended and I felt
only mildly slighted. He was telling me something. His
kind facial espressions told me so. He walked to to my side
where I was lifting weights and began to speak in
Hanguel.
I could smell the morning air that was
still on his clothes as he had been outside either running or
walking before he came to the health club. His slightly raspy
masculine voice spoke in quick controlled spurts. He grabbed
my arms and began to show me how to do things differently. His
hands were firmly holding my arms as to the correct positions where
they should be for an effective technique. He started to
alternate between acting like a boneless chicken and mentoring my
movements.
He knew I could not speak Hanguel. so
he did what we do when we don't speak the language; exaggerated body
movement. He continued to talk but added sweeping movements
and gestures to communicate most effectively with me.
He motioned for me to stand up and
then he lightly punched me below the waist, maybe 3cm above my
groin. I had not been punched there before and it hurt.
He motioned for me to punch him too in the same place. I did
and then he did it to me again. Ouch. However, his stomach
area below his navel was hard like tire rubber.
He began to show me specific ways of
gripping and holding weights. Immediately, I had new strength
with the new techniques I had just been shown.
I quickly awakened to the idea that he
was giving me a lesson in being passionate about things one attempts
to do. What was occurring had not only to do with our physical
selves or the setting we were in. He had me look around at the
other patrons and for each one he mimicked different actions to me
to show how serious they were about what they were doing.
I looked around at the people who were
in the gym and I saw people everyone in a different way. I
could see who was serious about their lives. I could see who
was unhappy with themselves. I could see committment in their
brown eyes. I could see struggle within the code that is
etched on the wrinkles on the faces of the people around
me. Life can be as simple as the book of lines on our
face. And I was reading the lines for the first
time. This strange and envigorating new sense happened
with the speed of of which you have just read this passage.
What had I really learned from this
great man? Why me? Only five minutes had passed and
colours were different and I was keenly aware of the star we call
the sun that was shining just a little brighter as its height over
the magnificent Korean mountains increased.
We began to take turns at the
station. He would mentor and I would follow, he would hone my
style and then model again and repeat until he was satisfied that I
was doing the correct movements. What he was doing was likely
nothing different than a good gym staff member could do but this man
was no regular man.
He then had me make these quiet animal
sounds as he showed me new positions to crouch in and perform my
exercises. Perhaps because I am an extroverted sort, I didn't
feel the slightest embarressed about making the grunting sounds
either. In fact, it felt, well, natural.
His energy, sincerity, and zest was
being transmitted to me the while we were in communicating in a
language much more clear than English.
Could he have known what effect he was
having on me? Our contact was supernatural. I was not at
a loss to understand what this person was doing. But was at a
loss to understand why it hadn't occurred 10 years
ago. Maybe I wouldn't have received his offering
when I was younger and so perhaps the timing was good now.
He explained to me that he was a 9th
level black belt in Karate. He then showed me his
stance. He perched on the ball of one foot, arched his
shoulders, outstrected his arms, bent his knees and moved like a
cat. His precision and deliberateness was most impressive. We
walked over to a high balance bar and he outstretched his arms,
jumped up and began twirling his body like that of on Olympic
medalist. He spun and manouerved in ways that would dazzle the
Oracle of Mykonos.
Who this man was became
unimportant. I had thought of asking him his name. But I
knew it was not part of his lesson to me. One of those really
fast thoughts flashed behind my eyelids and I wondered what his
childhood must have been. Again, I tossed that thought out of
my head faster than the first. I wanted to stay focused.
Doing just that was part of the lesson too.
We walked back to the station where we
had met and he nodded and bowed that his departure was about to
occur. We shook hands firmly, I began my exercising with my
newly acquired movements and the last I saw of him was a bent leg
that was the last part of his body to exit the back door.
It has now been 12 days since I saw
the man with the red Nike jacket. He is often with me.
When I awoke this morning, I thought of him and jumped out of bed,
hit my head on the stereo stand as I had too much momentum and had
to sit down on the floor. I think about him mostly when I am
alone and wanting to consider improving something about something.
I have a feeling I will see him
again. And when I do, I won't ask him his name. There
are friends and there are teachers.
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