Well, that’s what the internet told us anyway when we were
researching the prisoner’s dilemma. Why, exactly, we were researching the
prisoner’s dilemma at work is a story for another time.
Of course in the classical prisoner’s dilemma there is no
winning, only losing. Well, unless you and your fellow prisoner have such trust
that neither of you admits to the crime. But boy, that’s a lot of trust. A lot
of trust. I’m not sure there is anyone that I trust that much, or ever have.
But never say never! I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.
Made me wonder though … if you could cheat, and get away
with it, would you? If you’re in competition and your judge no reps you for
something you think is legit, you know how to deal with that: get over it and
move on. Quickly. But if you’re in competition and your judge calls a rep good
that you know wasn’t, or miscounts in your favour, what do you do then? Do you
do another rep or just let it go? Hard to say … especially when sometimes I get
called for no reps by one of our coaches and I think the rep was good
(sometimes it’s legitimately hard to tell if you’re short changing the movement
slightly, especially when you’re moving fast). So the reverse could also
happen. Of course, sometimes you just KNOW your chest didn’t quite touch the
bar, or your head didn’t touch the ground, or you missed that double-under.
Well, cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.
Made some more headway at work the second half of the week,
actually laying some solid groundwork for what is to come. And merging several
different documents into a standard statement of work template, which I thought
would take me 20 minutes and instead took the better part of two hours. Well,
so it goes.
But I’m excited. On Monday I have two interns starting: one
is going to work on a research project I’ve wanted to throw a resource at for
over a year, namely researching the commercial possibilities of doing a market
day concept in the townships (just because people are poor doesn’t mean they’re
not aspirational … quite the opposite). And what better way to generate revenue
combined with education about, say, proper nutrition? The other is going to
help me do a business assessment and recommendations for our little Wines with
Heart, which has struggled in the marketplace ever since I’ve been here, which
completely blows my mind. Everyone drinks wine, and the value proposition is a
classic more for the same that should have widespread appeal: buy the SAME
bottle of wine for the SAME price, and some of the proceeds go towards
charitable causes in the winelands. So, we’re going to figure out what’s wrong.
And, once I nail down that SOW and the corresponding
paperwork between Heart and Heart Capital, I’m going to get to work on that
activity that I love almost as much as lifting heavy weights – business model
crafting, and with Greenpop. Could life be any better? Oh, wait, yes it could.
Whatever it was that I did on Monday that jacked up my back
(which is actually shorthand for my psoas because that’s really what’s
injured/reinjured/still injured at this point), really took me out of
commission. Thursday was a scheduled rest day, and contained acupuncture to
prevent me from training anyway. I said I was feeling a little bit tender, and
when Kim asked if I was doing heavy back squats (the day before I had done what
I thought was a conservative 20 rep max at 57kgs/125lbs … back squats hadn’t
hurt me LAST week after all), various things floated through my head: “Nooooo….”
“Define heavy ….” What I eventually wound up telling him was “I think it was
the handstand pushups on Monday.” Cuz that sounded cooler than “It might have been
the band-assisted strict pullups.”
Do stupid stuff, stay injured. I know, I know. I’m sure it’s
just the exuberance of youth, but Kim understands me in a way his father doesn’t
seem to. Neither of us “does” rest very well. Immaturity, yes. But it’s like
telling an overweight person to go cold turkey on the sugar. It’s just HARD.
Friday I wanted to train but woke up, saw the workout, and
rather than thinking “oh, looks like fun!” I instead thought “oh, God, my back!”
so I took another rest day.
Saturday I still felt a little bit tender but much better so
instead of lying at home feeling sorry for myself or staying at the Biscuit
Mill chatting for another hour and a half, I did make it to the gym. My plan
was a light technique day, mainly focused on fixing my jerk which has been
absolutely abominable lately, probably because I rarely practice it. I got some
unexpectedly awesome coaching from Chris (not unexpected that it was awesome but
unexpected in that he’s usually doing his own thing during open gym and not
available to lie around for 20 minutes giving you technique tips). But it felt awesome,
and FAST.
I was chatting to Beatrix about the many different kinds of
pleasures you can get from training. She seems to get really fired up when she
trains. I don’t, actually (except when I do heavy squats, which I haven’t done
in a while, haha!). There is a little Pavlovian reaction to hearing the clock
count down to start but for the most part training you go, but it doesn’t get
me riled up the way a competition does. But there is a pleasure in adrenaline.
A pleasure of finally learning a new skill or hitting a PR. The dopamine bliss
after a tough metcon. The pumped up feeling after lifting heavy weights. The
wind rushing by your face as you sprint, especially if it’s cold outside or
dark.
Training, doing things other people can’t do or won’t do,
because it’s too hard or too painful … well, maybe we feel a bit smugly
superior sure, but maybe we’re also just addicts.
So I caught myself twice in the last week being proud of
something and then realising it wasn’t actually anything to be proud of at all.
The first was when I was on chat with Hes, saying how I’d put my body on the
line for my team (essentially I’d throw myself in front of a bus for the people
to whom I feel loyalty). She pointed out that I had, in fact, done so. Noble?
Maybe. Stupid? Also maybe. Then, one of the other qigong students asked me how
long I’d been doing it and I said about two months and he was very surprised
because I’m almost at his level and he has apparently been doing it for nearly
a year. So of course the competitor in me felt proud and then I immediately
felt a sense of shame … this is about learning a skill, not about learning a
skill faster than the other people. This need to feel better about myself by
comparing myself to other people is something I don’t really care for about
myself, actually. But in some ways I play it up. Hmm.
Sometimes you just have to laugh. The photo above is of the
door to my apartment complex. Yes, it is almost completely blocked by the
scaffolding. Only in South Africa.
- “I want to win. I don’t like to lose.” – Jeff
- “He’s mad sneaky. He’s an American.” – Anton
- “It’s true though. You could be friendly. But you’re still an American.” – Anton
- “Oh she’s American! That explains it! …. I thought she was from Joburg.” – Anton
- “And whose fault is that [the lack of beer in the office]? Well, at least you man up to it!” – Jaco
- “Today is Thursday? What's tomorrow?” – Zaheer (yes, he really said this)
- “Planting trees is not going to work unless those trees are buried in the sea.” – Jeremy
- “I think we’ve found her Kryptonite.” – Jeff
- “You know what is my life goal? To beat Jeff at the number of quotes on your blog.” – Anton
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