Years ago, on my way to the gym, I used to see something that stuck with me. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but there was something about that scene that touched me deeply.
On a narrow sidewalk, I would see a middle-aged man walking arm in arm with an elderly lady. It was clear she was his mother. I saw them often, and it made me think.
The man would give her arithmetic problems, and she would calmly respond. Sometimes they counted numbers up and down, like they were rehearsing some forgotten lesson. I watched from a distance, fascinated by the routine they had created.
What really struck me was the man’s effort to keep his mother’s mind active. It wasn’t just about taking care of family; it was about fighting degeneration, defying old age, and sending a clear message: we don’t give up.
I thought about it as I continued to the gym. If that lady, with her slow and heavy steps, made such an effort to stay alive and present, what excuse did I have not to do the same? Every time I saw them, I felt compelled to try harder in my own life, to be a bit better each day.
I always saw them just a few meters before reaching my gym, which reinforced the idea that staying in shape was crucial. Physical effort, I thought, not only makes us more agile but also sharpens our minds. It gives us resilience against pain and infuses us with the confidence that if we persist, we will achieve our goals.
I’ve had tough times when my confidence in reaching a goal faltered. But going for a run, pushing myself physically, kept me grounded. I knew that every effort has its reward, no matter how small.
I learned all that from watching a man and his mother, who didn’t throw in the towel when it would have been easier to do so.