Here we Go

It was hard to comprehend the path he took to get to this point. He lived life much akin to a log coasting down a river. Wherever it went, there he would go. As long as he could live life in comfort and his conscious was clear, it was all good.

“Competitor #5, please come to the check-in table,” blared the PTA system.

His number call shocked him out of his revelry. He half ran, half walked in his sandals. The large gym hosting the tournament was filled with dozens of competitors, supporters, and spectators. Fans and coaches were behind fences that surrounded the mats.

He never joined school events, and he never did any extra curricular activities. He always told himself that it didn’t matter in the end. One could win thousands of trophies or perform in front of, or alongside, hundreds of people, but unless it led to a professional career, it was nothing but fond memories and a depleted bank account. Many would characterize him as nihilistic, but he considered it being practical.

He went to college. He found steady and lucrative employment, and he had plenty of entertainment options. He considered cancelling his Netflix subscription when he learned that they would be losing broadcasting rights of the Office.

“Stick out your sleeves please,” said the volunteer.

He immediately stuck out his arms. The volunteer raised his eyebrows just slightly. The sleeves were half way to the knuckles. There was more fabric to grab in a sport that battled for inches. He placed the unused measuring device back onto the table and then gestured to a line up.

“You’re good,” said the volunteer. “Go to lane 4.”

He nodded his head and walked over, imagining the volunteer shaking his head and wondering why this competitor didn’t bother hemming the sleeves. Well, he would have been imagining if not for the horrendous beating of his heart that drowned out his thoughts. He queued up behind several others in his weight division. They nodded or waved and he replied in kind.

It was during a lazy sunny day when the light of sun was just warm enough to open a window to let in a cool breeze. While watching the Office for what seemed like the hundredth time, he felt restless. 

It was the same feeling he had before. It was the one that told him that he needed to do more and to actually live life rather than just be alive. He ignored it because this feeling usually went away.

This day was different. The feeling remained. The longer it stayed, the more uncomfortable he became. He couldn’t understand why it refused to vanish into the ether. He was content. He didn’t have needs. And it was with those last thoughts that he realize basic human nature was asserting itself on him.

Everything he did was to live out his twilight years without worry, but he realized that he wanted more in life. The uncomfortable truth that he tried to bury was that he still wanted to have some sort of acknowledgement that, however insignificant it may be, he was one of the billions who lived on Earth. 

The loud thud jarred him his recollection. He just missed a perfectly executed shoulder throw. Some of the spectators winced. The victim quickly scrambled into a more defensible position now that he was behind in points.

He watched the two practitioners grapple and jockey for position and the question that plagued him seemed to replicate like a virus in his head. No matter how many times he tried to isolate and contain, it keep popping up: was this a mistake? Here he was competing against teenagers and young adults in their physical primes as someone who was more desk jockey than jock. 

He signed up for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu to keep himself in shape and to provide a means of defending himself. After months of practicing, his coach suggested he compete and perhaps due to a sudden bout of madness, he agreed.

One of the volunteers gestured to his lane. “Lane 5, head over to mat number 7.”

A strange numbness began to circulate throughout his body. He was moving his arms and legs as though commanded by some exterior force. It was hard to remember the short distance that he covered when his mind kept focusing on the imminent future. The future in which he might end up being face planted upon padded mats that were harder than they looked.

A match was just underway as his group arrived at mat number 7. With a sudden twist of the hips, the combatants slammed on to the mats. A flurry of limbs whipped around smacking against body and face as each strove for an advantageous position. At this point, he was fairly certain he couldn’t feel anything. 

The sounds in the gym seemed to fade away. His eye began focusing on upon distant objects. He couldn’t think of anything other than the impending match in which he would be in real combat with another person. It wasn’t to the death, but it was still possible to get hurt. It just depended on how badly victory was desired. He didn’t know if his was that strong.

He was in over his head. He didn’t have a right to be here. His instructors were wrong. He should have just been content sparring with other members of his gym.

The avalanche of doubt started to accelerate his heart beat. Perhaps he could feign sickness. He stomach was certainly starting to hurt. He wasn’t properly warmed up. He was more prone to muscle strains at his age. Perhaps the judge would allow him to withdraw. But then he started thinking about his gym. He couldn’t let them down. And he couldn’t stand to show his face for using such a pathetic excuse. Even if they believed him, he could never live with himself after the belief they showed in him.

Fight or flight.

Miraculously something manage to interrupt his binary world.

“Hey,” shouted his coach. “Get over here!”

He starred blankly at him for a moment before other portions of his brain decided it would be best to oblige his coach. He walked over to him.

“You doing alright?” said his coach.

He nodded halfheartedly. His coach gripped him by his shoulders.

“Listen to me,” he said. “Relax. This is for fun. If you get arm barred, choked, or whatever, you just tap out. That’s it.”

He nodded with no confidence. His coach grimaced. 

“You’ve trained hard for this,” said his coach. “A lot of people would quit after a couple of weeks. You didn’t. That shows a lot of heart and toughness. You belong here just like everyone else.”

He nodded more assuredly and his coach smiled and slapped his shoulder.

“The key point to remember is to have fun, got it?” said his coach who suddenly looked across to the mat and then back to him. “You’re up.”

He took a deep breath, turned towards the mats and removed his sandals. The mat slightly deformed beneath his feet, yet the firmness reminded him that that it would not be so forgiving to those who yielded easily. 

The judge gestured to him and his opponent to approach the mat. They both walked to the middle of the mat and bowed before the judge and then to each other. With a shout from the judge, the match began and the only thing running through his mind was to fight.