Rules are Rules

I am writing this yesterday. Not so much because this is a travel week or that I am already three (four?) posts behind - remember, please, that the goal was to post an entry every day for 365 - but more to get some thoughts on paper about what just happened. I find it easier to work that way, when importance raises the stakes. 

As in ‘all in’ stakes.

The broad-strokes back-story: I have been an indoor studio cycling instructor for almost twenty years. I am a student of the game and try my best to keep abreast of the changes in methodologies, fostered party by science and partly by fad. Since day one I have had three basic rules. 

1) Show up on time. 2) Work hard. 3) Enjoy the ride. 

One last confession. My acts of contrition have deepened over the years, these days I am more a cheerleader and training partner than an unforgiving drill instructor perfectionist. Additionally as much as I resist the aging process, slowing down, losing power and generally getting soft (as much as I fight it), here we are, together, dealing with this relentlessly changing landscape of emotional conflict. 

One of our regulars, a person I respect tremendously, was a bit over animated today. Normally he is quiet as a mouse, attentive and supportive of our group effort, traits I would expect from someone who played Division 1 college football, but today he was giving me abnormal body language and even a hand signal or two. What? What? Repeat please, I didn’t get the sign, missed the signal. 

After our set, another killer, variations on the same monstrous theme we explored Saturday, tweaked slightly to provide additional recovery between the intervals, I walk into the locker room and ask him how we did. Where he asks me what my number one job was. You mean in life, in the real world or in this club? 

‘Just say thanks for showing up and hope to see you again’, he says, gruffly.  

Still glowing in the endorphin flow of a high quality hour, I take his words with me into the shower, now turned 180 degrees in my assessment of the class. Evidently my ‘great’ rating wasn’t shared unanimously. 

A woman had come into the studio, my dojo, my performance hall, my temple, 15 minutes after our start. As late as it gets. In the past I would fire a caustic remark with the hope of sending a ‘be on time’ message, but today I just turned my head to look at the wall clock directly behind the instructors bike. That was it. Not a word was issued in comment on (what I take to be) disrespect, rudeness, laziness or apathy. 

So today I consider the scales of justice. General Principals. Right and wrong, good and bad. My rules. The bigger picture. Change. Dedication. Flow. Truth. Kindness. Challenge. 

Maybe I have lost it. Maybe I never had it to begin with. Maybe this has all been a charade. Maybe I am a fraud. Maybe I should get life without parole. 

But then again, rules ARE rules.