fijipina

people-watching at the sports complex

15 May 2010 4 Comments

by shallow in cebu, philippines, random acts, sports and recreation, thoughts

there is truth to the claim that you don’t miss the water ’til the well runs dry.

there was a point in my early twenties when i tried to introduce physical fitness into my lifestyle and went everyday to the cebu city sports complex to either swim, jog around the track oval or ballroom dance. on some days when i make it in time, i join the taebo or tai-chi demonstrations. all that time, i treated the activities as chores, things i didn’t really want to do (well, except ballroom, that is), but had to for a purpose. soon enough, my enthusiasm fizzled into a dying ember, made my way to the center less and less, and finally gave up without even noticing it.

all those days i sauntered into the complex to perform my chores, i just went in, did what i had to do, then left without looking back or engaging in small talk with anyone else.

today, coming back to cebu from thousands of miles away, more aware and more anxious (at least by my meagre standards) about physical fitness, i decided to stroll the kilometer stretch from where i stayed to the sports complex. and when i entered the structure, i was hit by a strange wistfulness that can only be spurred by a sudden feeling of… i don’t know, missing, i guess.

it was then when i realized just how wonderful the place is, this public sports complex with people from all walks of life, a myriad of sports and recreation all there for one to learn, to master or to just pass the time with if that’s your trip. nearly ten years ago, i was so caught up with simply getting this fitness thing over and done with, i never even stopped for a moment to look around.

so instead of running the track, swimming, dancing or boxing (which was actually what i went there for in the first place), i ventured around at a leisurely pace. the rest of the world around me seemed to spin in restless activity, and what a marvelous sensation to just watch!

the vaunted dancesport studio is the first you’ll see as you enter the building. in posters and boards that you won’t miss even if you were legally blind are photos, clippings and certificates of the team’s guinness world record achievement: biggest dance class on earth, attained in june 2009. i dally inside, inquiring about classes from the organizers; i’ve been there once or twice before to hire dancers for an event, but i didn’t even bother to watch what was going on. such a loss for me. as the lady in the glass-paneled office talks to me, my eyes keep flitting to the pairs on the floor as they glide this way and dip that way while an instructor beats the boards with a cane(?) in time to the rhythm. i dance recreational ballroom, but dancesport requires an almost completely different set of skills. so without batting an eyelash, i said i will come back to enroll for classes.

then i walk on to the next studio where ladies with bare abs, bejeweled scarves around their hips, were gyrating and pulsating as the one who sways most like shakira was calling out instructions over the din of chatter and shuffling feet… yes, this class, bellydancing, has a sizeable audience of on-lookers, most of them males, obviously.

onwards, the gym at the end of the hall have the balance beam, uneven bars, vault… ladies’ gymnastics. there were kids warming up and stretching (by stretching, i mean splits and leg extensions and back-bends), likely getting ready to train on the equipment.

as i move on to the track, i take a second to enjoy a glimpse of the momentum flashing from the square of light leading outside. i notice that the whole space was filled with people, not all of them necessarily running circles around the oval. i have always known and noticed that it does seem crowded there, but i never really appreciated what was happening until earlier today.

and when i stepped out to rest my elbows on the railings, i couldn’t think of a better thing to do in the afternoon than to people-watch in the oval: b-boys practicing air flares, pop jazz dancers memorizing choreography, flag-football team training on the center field, a tennis player volleying a ball against the wall for lack of an opponent… and naturally the runners and joggers taking advantage of the inside track.

i found most remarkable the gymnastics training. the male athletes dragged the mats out into the open, planted the vault and springboard(?) right before the layers of cushion and canvas, and practiced their somersaults. one of them had shoulder-length curly hair pulled back in an unkempt ponytail, a mustache and a goatee; hardly the look i expected from a gymnast, a novelty that amused me no end. what looked like astounding flips and tumbles to me apparently didn’t fly well with the coach who yelled, “ayaw mo sige’g barog ra diha, kay ibton nako nang mat, derecho gyud mo sa semento.” (don’t just stand there or i’ll pull the mat out and you’ll land straight on the concrete). talk about tough… they’re not even just standing around. does he mean their efforts are only tantamount to standing? talk about high standards.

the rhythmic gymnastics coach wasn’t giving the girls an easier time either. as they extended their legs behind them and spun on one leg over and over, she walks to each of them, points her index finger in strong gestures before their faces all steely in concentration and bellows “ingon ko duha ka tuyok! isa ra na imong gibuhat, kakita ko!” (i said two spins! you did only one, i saw it!). oh, and one of these girls who seemed probably between ten to twelve years old has the sickest abs i’ve ever seen on a female. i swear.

i finally found my way into the boxing gym to schedule a training for tomorrow morning. for now, i just wanted to watch people.

as i began walking towards the exit, the taekwondo class spills onto the oval for their daily jogging requirement. as the bigger kids wearing black belts break away from the smaller ones, i notice that the ones lagging behind (about six young kids, ranging from around five to eight years old) start playing tag instead of jogging aimlessly… children being children. even if the two tiniest ones were wearing a blue and a brown belt.