I knew Jym, I knew him well. We used to hang out together, sometimes grab a bite to eat, chill out on the weekends, in the early mornings and on late afternoons. There were times when I went through to Jyms place and I really lost track of things going on around me. I recall the things we used to do together – swimming, running, rowing, the occasional squash session, plenty of tread mills, free weights. The more I went through to Jyms, the more I started to recognise other friends of his which was great. Strangely enough though we never introduced ourselves; it was like those awkward gatherings you’d go to where you nod or tip your head to someone you passed by, but never had the inclination to have conversation. Can’t blame anyone but myself though – most of the time I was breathing like an asthmatic gorilla, bright red in the face and sweating enough to cancel Cape Towns D-Day.
But maybe that’s where I first started to see Jym differently. Sure I’d go through and work out, feel energised and motivated, but when I walked out, I felt that everything I had just achieved was left behind those automatic doors. I knew that I had my own personal goals to achieve, that without my own grit and determination, that I wouldn’t be able to progress much. I was fine with that, no-one at the end of the day is going to help you achieve your targets if you don’t take them seriously yourself. But in a place full of like-minded individuals who were all focused on achieving the same goals, it was odd that we didn’t interact and encourage each other more often. And then there was the constant yawning. Bright eyed and bushy tailed on the drive through to Jyms, keen and motivated when walking down the same passage, tunes playing over in my head while getting changed, but the second I got to the actual machines, a surprise narcoleptic attack would take hold of my brain and one yawn after another would spread around the place like wildfire. I don’t know what it was, but as soon as I had to do something, my brain started shutting down.
What can I say, the signs were there. I had grown tired of going to Jyms place. The same-old same-old, day in and day out, no change to the routine, no active engagement, no stimulating activities that kept me energised and eager for more. Things had become dull, boring, and predictable and the only exciting part of going became the snack bar where you could get something healthy to sip. And those costs started to add up – physically, mentally, emotionally.
But then I met someone new, someone who changed my perspective on fitness, my abilities, about being part of something bigger than me, and how much fun you can have without realising you’re getting stronger and fitter in the process. I met Capoeira, and I have never been happier!