At the margins

Too many people, when the exercise, stop way before they should 'cause they got something inside their mind that says, "aw, thats too much pain."

Flopping through a modified P90X routine (P80X?) this morning I was struck by this little pearl. Pushing out pushups on the floor of my living room, I neared the end of each set with my arms wobbling like spaghetti on the last couple of reps. On the last couple pushes, form goes out the window and it's just about getting it done. Whether I get it done on that last rep or two, in the moment, feels like it has very little to do with physical strength. At that point, it is all about mental resolve and a battle of you versus yourself. I find that when I am feeling confident about other things in my life, when I am in a positive mindset, that's when those last few reps can happen--when the pain is manageable and when you can get some real work done. After all, workouts are like life in that the real progress gets made on the margins. At meetings, sticking around with folks after things break up to ask and answer questions often reveals new ideas, problems, and perspectives. At networking events, bouncing off someone that has also stayed an extra 15 minutes proves the connection of a lifetime. At parties, mini-parties on the fringes are often the most fun part of the night. Entrepreneurs operating at the fringe of a company or an industry, situating themselves in the vanguard, are situating themselves for success. In a workout, also, it's all about work put in at the margins. Everything else is going through the motions. Margins vs. Motions.

CONTRADICTION: Gaining face by losing it

You'll often hear, on getting to China on business, that drinking culture here is a bit different. As it's put by some: "it's good to puke." Overindulging at a client dinner shows new friends that you are willing to hold nothing back in dealing with them, that you're "letting it all hang out" and are able to let them "have something on you." In other words, by losing face, you gain friendship and can form guanxi.

I have been getting back into basketball these days. The realtor who is trying to sell the apartment I'm living in (for my landlord, not for me) was adamant that I come to the 6:30am game in Taiyanggoing park, down the street, to hang out and 锻炼身体, "work out, exercise your body"--and to help them practice their English, which I'm happy to do. When I first got to China, I played basketball on the college campus where I worked. I certainly got worked out. Inspired by the moves of Russell Westbrook and Kobe Bryant, and generally with no previous formal coaching, recreational Chinese ballplayers have an out-of-control style that led to my having no less than 3 bloody noses and a handful of bruises my first month on the court. This danger was exacerbated by the fact that I myself am totally out of control and am still trying as hard as I was in 7th grade to move gracefully walking down a sidewalk much less driving down the lane. In an effort to reinvigorate my spoken Chinese, get a workout, and have some fun, I decided to give basketball in China another shot and join the daily game down at the park. I've gone twice now, and while I've not shared some baijiu with the fellas (yet), I've built up a respectful, friendly relationship with some of them.

Today, setting up shop down in the post, I was being d'ed up by one of the bigger guys--one with a Fresh Prince-style flattop hairdo that generally is associated with military types, according to the dictionary of Chinese hairdos. The dude is actually way nicer than his hair would let on, and we were playing each other with the right kind of competitiveness, contesting shots cleanly and playing pretty closely. At this particular moment, gassed after about 20 minutes running around a half-court, I pushed off with my back to gain some separation for a turnaround, and nothing was there. I stumbled into the air and did a backwards somersault on the concrete, as I went down hearing the rising "oooooOOHH" of the guys on the court and the dudes playing pingpong next door. Just total amateur hour. After popping up with a smile--unhurt, but with my 面子 mianzi, or "face," flung out the window and screaming as it fell to the ground--I was helped up and high-fived as I jumped back on the court. After the game, chatting amiably, it felt genuinely friendly, like a gap had been bridged. I had "gracefully" embarrassed myself, let it all hang out, but shown myself capable of having a good time. In the West or in China, that's what life is all about, isn't it?

Mr. Clean

I can't speak for other gyms, but at mine there's a Mr. Clean. And by a Mr. Clean, I mean a few different guys who very closely resemble a Chinese version of Mr. Clean. I know for a fact that there are multiple Mr. Clean's as sometimes they come to the gym at the same time. He's characterized by a couple different features:

• 50-60 years old, from my guess (maybe older)
• high-end gear, usually including knee braces and lifting gloves
• day-time, non-lunchtime lifting, perhaps a retiree
• FUBU- or Sean John-style street jersey
• frequent phone calls while on treadmill or stationary bike
• spends a lot of time working out, but also a lot of time chatting
• very loud conversational tone of voice
• putting up some impressive weight and not afraid to exert himself despite age
• smiling and willing to throw you a spot, especially when you're lifting less than him
• always, always the shaved head

Here's to you, Mr. Clean. It's been tough keeping up with you around the bench press. God knows I will not be attacking the weight room like that when I'm your age!

lumps of meat

In the last 2 weeks I've taken 2 separate spills on my skateboard. Each time, my whole body weight landed square on my left elbow and knee, which are both still swollen up like a grapefruit. It's been a bit less than a week since the most recent spill, and the arm is starting to feel a bit better.

The pain in my upper arm isn't a throbbing bruise pain. It's a deep, dull bone pain. Most of the time, just walking around and at work, it's easy to forget about. At the gym and playing hockey, making certain torquing motions with my fingers or wrists sets flashbulbs firing behind my eyes. I try to duplicate these special movement to make sure I avoid it next time, but something about the way I'm doing it doesn't register the same pain response.

It's strange the way the pieces of our bodies are connected together, and when the system gets disturbed how it responds to a trauma. The tendons and fibers that make us up, and how they play with one another. You forget how much has to be going right for all of these things to work in concert. The only time you remember how delicate you are is when you lose abilities you take for granted.

As a coda, I was just at the supermarket (where I couldn't believe I heard Wilco being played over the loudspeaker, how this place has changed in 6 years). At the meat counter a lady in a pink velour tracksuit was buying what had to be half of an adult cow's ribcage. Still all attached together like something you would see in the meat locker of a Rocky movie, she hoists up the ribs to the meat chopper across the counter. "Throw it to me," the chopper says. With a second of hesitation, the lady launches the ribs across the counter for a direct hit onto the cutting board. She had a smile on her face from ear to ear.

CONTRADICTION: Foreigner feelings

Dudes in Chinese gyms go pretty hard, but none go harder than the oldest guys. It's literally the 60-70 year old bracket that I see constantly pushing sets to failure, sweating their brains out, and really letting out some noise when pushing out their reps. Oddly, when lifting weights, there is little or no spotting (I've often considered why: face? concerns about manliness? just unaware of the practice? there are coaches walking around the gym but don't seem to help out unless they are getting paid for 1-on-1 training). I needed a spot and called her over to help me in case I was going to drop the bar on my head. As I was doing the set and giving some instruction, a couple of guys who were there working out together were looking on, seeing what this spotting thing was all about. It seemed like having a girl being the one giving the spot was of special interest. Although they had been working out for a half-hour on the bench press and other exercises, neither one of them had been watching out for the other; right after we were done, they waited for us to walk away to change weights and gave spotting a try. Within a half-hour, I saw 3 other sets of people helping themselves with spots on other benches.

It's cool and fun to see this kind of knowledge dispersed in real time. I don't know if "knowledge dispersal" is even the right term. Maybe these dudes already knew about spotting, and seeing two foreign people do it gave it the imprimateur of, "OK, I guess this spotting idea is legit" or "oh, that's how you spot someone." You take for granted the Phys Ed classes in middle school where most American kids learn about this stuff, about how to lead not only a healthy lifestyle but also how to exercise properly and effectively. China is developing so fast, and the involvement of foreigners isn't important just for building English skills, taking international technology, or the other stuff you see in the news. There are just so many "best practices" in so many areas of life in China where there is room for sharing--for education and exchange. And there is a genuine respect, appreciation, excitement among folks here to learn more about other cultures.

--

It is often observed that there is not a lot of love lost between China and Japan. Politically, right now the two countries are at odds over a number of issues: Diaoyu/Senkaku Islands, Japan's prime minister visiting WWII shrines commemorating war criminals. On an individual basis, people are people, and many locals I know have great friendships with Japanese expats here in Beijing. I think there is a difference between urban China and rural China, where less exposure to foreigners as real people means that people are more susceptible to influence from movies and TV. And Chinese CCTV certainly does not help to quell any negative feelings. From Murong Xuecun in NYT yesterday:

The state prohibits content that “incites ethnic hatred,” yet according to Southern Weekly more than 70 anti-Japanese TV series were screened in China in 2012. And in March 2013 the newspaper reported that 48 anti-Japanese-themed TV series were being shot simultaneously in Hengdian World Studios, a film studio in Zhejiang Province, in eastern China.

There is no doubt that anti-foreign nationalism is a key component of how the CCP has chosen to define Chineseness--which is weird, given the myriad ways Chinese people I see in Beijing both respect and seek out foreigners as friends, sometimes primarily for practical purposes like English learning, but many times simply because they're curious. That the government has chosen to define a group of people not for what they are, but for what they are not--"we are not Japan, we are not the West"--leads to the confusion behind what Jonathan Spence calls "the search for modern China." Negative definitions of things don't really lend any clarity to a thing's true nature. It's kind of like Boston Red Sox culture--there is none. The Yankees all shave? We'll have handlebar mustaches. They're elitist snobs? Red Sox are dudes of the people. It's not "Red Sox culture," it's "not-Yankees culture." As China culturally and politically regains some confidence lost during the "100 years of humiliation," it will be interesting to see if so much anti-foreign nationalism remains in politics.

Hangin' out

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning, I rush to the gym around opening to fight for a spot at the bench press and Gravitron. My rivals are older men and women who could be my grandparents. The older ladies are generally taking it easy, but it is incredible to see how hard many of the older men are going after it. A few of these dudes are huge, but most are there, apparently, to keep the qi moving and maybe to get a bit of a sweat on. Very few show any awareness of weight room etiquette from Western gyms: toweling off the bench after use, replacing weights when repping in on a machine, moving quickly through an exercise if you see someone is waiting. Not really a big deal, though, because as soon as you ask to jump in on a machine folks generally either hurry along to their next routine or let you jump in. The trainers are attentive to clients misusing machines--letting weights crash, pushing on levers meant to be pulled--in all instances where things that cost money could get broken.

One, who we call Mr. Clean, is usually pumping iron and is very outspoken, leading the locker-room banter going back and forth across the mirrored room. He is a good dude, more courteous than mostAt least when I'm around, it seems like the conversation swings to talk of America or the West in comparison to China: NBA vs CBA, clothing, money. Most comments have nothing to do with me directly, but I do become the topic of analysis occasionally, particularly as I'm trying to force out the last rep of a set and am making some excruciating face or emitting some kind of gross sound. Feels good to be a celebrity--just wish it wasn't for my bitter-beer bench press face.

Perception is reality

Caught this on the wall of my gym earlier today. One of our trainers sitting on a press with a huge rack of weights pushing up apparently with a lot of exertion.. except none of the weight is actually on the bar.

Meditation

It's amazing how hard it is to think about nothing. A friend here told me about a month-long retreat he took in Burma where no one spoke for 30 days. He spent much of the day pacing around a monastery compound and just meditating, "trying to turn off the noise," surprised by how difficult a task that was even after several hours a day for 4 weeks or more.

It doesn't look like the amount of noise we'd all like to escape from sometimes is heading into decline any time soon. In fact, it seems like it's only beginning to ramp up. From mobile computers to connectivity between software connecting people with others all the time, there's always a gadget or interaction that you could or should be attending to.

My experiment is trying to take 10 minutes a day to slow down and figure out if there's any positive effects. I think Day 1 was a success as I didn't fall back asleep while trying to be quiet, breathe deeply and relax. To be continued...

Costner: P90X

I began the day with Tony Horton's P90X workout regimen. During our jump training time, he admonishes himself as "a merciless man." I believe him to be a fine man with a dedication to making us all better, to "do [our] best and forget the rest." Though he looks something like a gecko, I have never seen calves of such sculpture on a man his age. As active as my lifestyle is out here, I would not be able to match his physique. In hunkering down for the remainder of the winter, I feel warmed by the inspiration of Horton's drive and enthusiasm. Although sore today, I know this morning's exertions will strengthen me in the end.