I’m inspired by hard work.
I woke up this morning and checked twitter. #StandwithWendy was trending, and I went on to read about Wendy Davis’s 11 hour filibuster to stop a bill from being passed. Tears came running down my face. I was inspired by her work– 11 hours of standing and much, much more from her, her colleagues, and countless others–to accomplish something they believed in. This usually happens with an ESPN story, so I left for the Mysore room before really wallowing in my tears.
It’s summer. It’s sweaty. I am especially sweaty. And some days I feel myself slacking; wiping my brow is an easy respite in between postures. Playing with my waistband is another one.
But a truly nice break is to look around the room. And you know what? My “Mysore-colleagues” are all working really hard. All of them are sweating and all of them are pushing their bodies to do as much as they are capable of accomplishing. Just showing up is difficult; it’s early and I know we are in happy hour season. And just when I think I won’t get found out, my diligent teacher catches me and tells me to go back to Mari-C, first side, and we work together on what is currently the challenge of my body, and the “I hate my life” melodramatic-reaction posture for me. Each day we make a little progress and I am humbled by my own body and my teacher’s willingness to give each day to a challenge I could just as easily walk away from. But we’ve made a quiet social contract: we are all going to work hard.
I’ve found myself overwhelmed by this kind of inspiration; I am filled to the brim to have hard-working peers greet me each morning. While I am disgusted by my own sweat and slime, I am also proud to be part of a group that values hard work and dedication. It’s what keeps me coming back, and it’s something I’ve come to seek out in other parts of my life. I love the proverbial worker bees and I want to be around them and hear what they are doing.
Mysore is not a team sport, but some days it feels like the greatest moments of being an athlete–that my teammates’ success is also my greatest joy. That if there were a sound of catching a bind it would be the ball hitting the back of the cage or the swoosh of a basketball. It is the deep sigh of relief that things that we work really hard for actually do come to fruition. It is the knowledge that if you keep trying, it will come together eventually. My teacher is often my coach–keeping me accountable for myself and my work–because, simply put, that’s the rules of the room. It’s a joy to be a part of, and after 9 months of coming to the Mysore room, i’m grateful to be part of the team.
Cue the Jock Jams, and keep up the hard work. I for one will be the one with the tears. And I am not ashamed of that.