Confessions of a Non-Marathoner

Meanwhile, life happens. A postscript from this morning

Some years back I said hello and introduced myself to a fellow gym-goer after months of smiling and nodding at each other in the midst of our individual fitness attempts. She reciprocated and introduced herself,  'Hi, I am a marathoner.' Insisting, I sought, 'You are…?' She continued 'I am a marathoner, my name is...’ Till date I draw a blank when I try to drum up her name from my memory duct. I’d stopped listening right there at the beginning of our first hello.

My memory is, however, vivid with the kind of shaken I felt that morning. My confounded self could barely make sense of this label-laden introduction by this nice girl who I was looking to befriend. A matchless encounter with one who seemed to  define herself by what she must hold highest in the pecking order of her fitness-feathered cap.

If you are wondering what happened beyond that promise of a hello – well, no surprise! Till date our familiarity has remained at a docile nod and a smile. In essence, nothing happened.

But something did take place within me. A jolt of a realization that identities can get so intertwined that I too can perilously view myself to be that which I am most amorous of. You would imagine my self-introduction if I hold intellect and advocacy in reverence and you would want to be far-far away from me when I fire my introduction volley.

But today let’s get a bit beyond just the introduction. Think of a scenario where I lose (unintentionally) the most cherished part of my identity somewhere later on in life – or reference the marathon example imagine a Marathoner loose a leg or a vertebrae in an accident! How incrementally dark will the life-after seem to that person. If this happened with me, I would be devastated, perhaps gradually lose the will to continue with life. However other precious pieces make my construct, I will acutely mourn the loss of the identity that I have believed to be inextricable. I will never again be enough for me.

In the last couple of years, my attempts to understand identification with labels a bit better has given shape to an involuntary (and inconspicuous) studying of people in any social context—of course in an unstructured format. An almost subliminal observance of identity-obsession visible in and around me and how much a reality it is in today’s life.

Sample these scenarios. It kicks in every time I meet someone fresh, every time a fellow parent speaks about or introduces their child; every time I meet a new client in a coaching session; every time anyone takes center stage in talking about self and more poignantly every time I am in limelight to introduce myself.

Of these the most piercing and delightful are the moments of self-observance when I acutely see, sense, feel the flutter, measure the urge and the bodily surge I undergo when I am in limelight to talk of myself. I can most certainly share with you that frequently the best insights come from what I'm yearning to say in order to explain, clarify or in response to someone’s query about me— strong cues to my own identity obsession (or preference).

This variety of situations apart, many samples have been readily available in the social media world. A real fascinating lot! I started noticing how each one defined themselves in the 'About Me' section across their social identities. How the orientation of a few were so overwhelmingly around the business card they owned which defined everything from their profile photo to the description on their various handles. An example of an all-pervasive professional identity. I notice how some mighty-pens with big following cared enough to explain their genre of satire, humor or commentary in rejoinders to comments left by an eager-to-please follower, all in an effort to define (read dictate) how even the consumer of your product ought to receive it. Audacious obsession with identity and hence an attempt to control it’s reception and recipient.

Going back to the incident at the gym – I look back at it as an epochal impact on my consciousness. And it has everything to do with how I view my fitness today. I am fitness obsessed but within the fitness options I am full of choices. That single episode heralded for me a conscious rejection of expertise (or student-ship) in any one kind of fitness regime. It literally gave birth to a ‘me’ who is not only a yogi, not only a runner or a gym frequenting fitness-freak. There on, I found myself embrace a more ambivalent fitness-identity—I enjoy a run (which I do), I enjoy a strong yoga routine, I love focused workouts for my upper and lower body, I lift weights and resistance train and I am open to any other option that opens up for me. What does that make me? Perhaps a rounded-fitness enthusiast who also runs, practices yoga, weight-trains, jogs inside the gym, enjoys a walk and a run out in the open - consciously defeating any impulse to confine and define this facet of my identify.

That too is an identity, you would say! But one that I’m able to carry lightly with me. I am free to be anything that is good to be my flavor for the day.

  
I’m not suggesting that my fitness routine is such only because of that incident. What I am surely saying is that the incident raised my awareness around the freedom that comes with No tags hanging from my shirt-sleeves.

In the season of Marathons, in the midst of Zumba and Aqua routines I find myself in a content space - a JOMO kind of state that is bringing me abundant peace. I am not a Marathoner but I can run a fair distance, I’m not a yogi but I love an energizing practice that could run into hours, I haven't appointed a fitness trainer but I do know enough about muscles and workouts for efficient weight training couple of days a week.

My big confession is that the Joy that I feel of being in this space overrides a lot of the seasonal pressure of BEing or not being a Marathoner J (I’m sorry to come back this full circle on the marathon topic!)

I am also simply making a case for meeting and introducing to each other (first) as basic-minimum before we overload the chaste-moment with what gets each one of us gooey and hormonal.

The social-study is work-in-progress and the self-work is underway and hopefully replicable in many other facets of my life.

http://sohumansoimperfect.blogspot.in/2015/03/freedom-in-nothing-ness.html

Disclaimer: This post is not aimed at mocking a Marathoner or that girl in the gym. In fact, this writer admires, adores and is entirely respectful of the hard work and single-mindedness that goes behind preparing and finally running a Marathon. After all, I live with a Marathoner and I love the fact that I get to brag about itJ.