Analogikal

Gaman

On enduring the climb, even when it feels endless.

Gaman is a Zen-influenced Japanese concept that means to endure the seemingly unbearable with patience, dignity, and quiet strength. It is the practice of steady, uncomplaining persistence, continuing forward with all one’s energy, without distraction or indulgence, until the path eases again.

I looked up this word, this concept, this idea, to find meaning in the misery I endure every Sunday. To give meaning to the inglorious, unseen agony I push myself through. And therein lies the beauty: the agony is the meaning. The act of pedalling is the end.

Every time I endure a climb that refuses to end, when my lungs are burning more than my quads, I seek meaning. For a long time, I found solace in the potential improvement of my cardiovascular endurance. The end, I told myself, was probably being better at football. Over time, I stopped telling myself that. If that were the end, I should have given up smoking.

Cycling, for me, is the same as living: keep moving. My life choices leave me with very few milestones and end goals. Every day could be the same, and I would be happier for it, grateful even. Stages of life can be testing, and at times, crippling. Over the years, I have developed the ability to deal with them in isolation and silence.

Not many people get it. But the ones who do, stick around. It is selfish, but it works. At some point in my younger years, I realised, as many of my peers did, that nobody is coming to save you. Therapy now tells me to reach out. I do. But for the most part, I know I have to do the pedalling.

Others can hand me lemonade, wave at me with a smile, and at times show me the next puncture station. But I have to do the pedalling.

During the toughest climb of my life, from Mapusa to Assagao, the ascents kept rolling in, one after the other. At each turn, I felt things would get better, only for the next climb to begin. It kept repeating until I felt trapped in an endless loop.

It is poetic, cathartic, and ironic that I had this ride at the end of a year that felt exactly like that. Throughout the year, I didn’t stop pedalling. I am grateful for the discipline that carried me through the tough times. I am even more grateful for the people who saw me struggle and helped me keep pedalling.

They can see me struggle; they can help me feel better. But I have to do the pedalling.

Engi

On being carried, and carrying others, through the headwind.

Engi is another Zen philosophy that represents the interdependence of all things; no self exists in isolation.

Now that I am done being cocky about my ability to pedal and get through the everyday shit that life has been throwing at me, it is time to acknowledge the real mvp, the peloton that really got me through the toughest climbs and the wildest headwinds. No person can suffer through the drag without getting worn out.

What’s a peloton, you ask? If this were an in-person chat, I’d have said it’s a stationary bike and you’d have punched me on the arm.

Definition: The main, large group of riders in a bicycle race.
Function: Riders stay in the pack to save energy by drafting (slipstreaming) behind others.

The reality is this: we have to save energy and slipstream behind others. We cannot endure without others. Such is life.

The longest-standing study on human happiness establishes this beyond doubt. I am learning this after 38 years of existence. I have enjoyed being an island for most of my life and the solo rider on Sunday mornings. This year has truly tested everything I have had. More importantly, it has shown me the importance of not just riding at the tip of the peloton, but also asking permission to coast behind and through others.

I used to be the kind of friend who would hijack agendas. For consistency of the analogy, I used to be the kind of rider who would hijack the peloton and the ride, sort of like having main-character syndrome.

It took many incidents of wayward advice and eating my words to realise my role in the peloton: do not hijack. Let the rider get to where they want to. Make sure their journey is safe, and if and when they get tired, let them draft behind you.

If they want to take a turn you’re not okay with, it doesn’t matter. It’s their ride.

When I needed a peloton the most, they all delivered, beyond my wildest imagination. Beyond grateful for the crew I have been able to amass. Without agenda, without expectations, and most importantly, without huffing and puffing, they let me hitch my helmet behind their tailwind.

I could put my head down, lament, trauma dump, and keep pedalling. There were days when I couldn’t pedal. On those days, they turned up with memes, watch-related content, concert tickets, a thoughtful note, chocolates, their babies, a great meal, getting blacked out drunk with new friends, or just their quiet, caring company.

The slightly unhinged ones turned up with intense workouts using Indian kettlebells and Apple Watch competitions. Oftentimes, they were just all around me, physically, virtually, emotionally, and through words of reassurance.

I hope I have been considerate in letting them take turns. I hope I haven’t burnt them out. Trauma dumping was real. There were weeks when I was a broken record.

I shouldn’t be speaking in past tense, but I am just a little bent as a record right now.

This phase of life will always be remembered, how permanence disappeared and I had to rediscover what or who I am, and the forms in which I define companionship.

There will be a few more bends along the way, and definitely some inclement weather. I have full faith in my peloton. The process of carefully curating and nurturing it has been a long one, one truly worth a lifetime.

There’s no finish line here. Only movement, and the people who make it possible.