How Would We Know?

How would we know?

Junior and I are in a grudge match of epic proportions. Having already completed our floor routine (planks and core), our free weight interlude (30lb dumbbells in ten positions) and the obligatory exchange of ‘new and interesting’ glimpses of inspiration (music, history, science, technology), we are on the bench. Resting above us is 120lbs of resistance in the form of a steel bar and evenly balanced rubber-coated plates. We are benching three sets of nine. 

I remain on the subject he raised earlier. They are onto the Japanese involvement and entry into WWII in History class. He had mentioned during our floor session that at one time in the illustrious history of the Land of the Rising Sun, that should a careless rice farmer insult or otherwise disrespect the Emperor, said farmer could face a rather harsh sentence known as seppuku or hara-kiri. He went on, as we rested between reps, to demonstrate the knife motion used for successful disembowelment. 

I asked if he knew of Bashido. He said yes, the code of the Samurai. I asked if he knew the role of the Samurai. Yes, they are to the Emperor what our Secret Service is to the President. I asked if that is an accurate comparison. He said what do you mean? 

Well, for starters, their code was, and remains, light years above the comparative simplicity of the standard job description of an agent in the Secret Service. As an example, one of the most respected traits of the Samurai was his ability to remain calm under the stress of battle. So much so that should a Samurai display cowardice in battle he too would be subject to the same capitol punishment as the renegade rice farmer. Whoa. 

Additionally, the self-inflicted punishment was supervised with the guarantee of completion by a Samurai swordsman standing directly behind the repentant prisoner. Kneeling on the threshold of eternity, should the ‘alleged’ fail, lose faith, re-consider or lack fortitude at this critical moment in his temporal existence, one swing from the powerful sword would finish the job. Wow.

Yes big time stuff. The code. Bashido. We have nothing even close to its magnitude. 

We talk, we dig. We exchange. We discuss what it means to do, or be, you’re every best. What would it take? What cause, belief, dedication, commitment would get us there? Can we measure and then manage it? Can we practice?

We blow through the three sets and Junior rubs his gloved hands together and hops back on the bench in a dazzling display of presence, announcing that we are doing another rep. OK. As he lifts I segue into the philosophical. It is my experience that when someone says that they have done their best and cannot do any more, that they usually can. Always, truth be known. Every case and every time. We can always do more. One cannot, I insist, have too much courage, desire or dedication. 

We are now on our record breaking seventh set. We have the mojo and he will not back down before I do - and I not till he. Stalemate. The goal is to find the best in yourself, work towards it, relentlessly and with gumption, focus and awareness. 

We finish the eighth set and look at each other. Nothing needs to be said. Our best? Without the attempt - how would we know? 

How would we know?