As much as he doesn’t like it, Mika taught me the Chinese word for impossible. During one of my earlier sessions, one of his staff members politely interrupted us to tell Mika something.
“sdkfhsjdkfhsjdfh bù ke néng! iweusdjash” Mika said, and the trainer scurried away.
“What does boooo… kah… nung mean?”
I think he was a little surprised (not as surprised as me) that I was able to repeat the word.
“It means ‘impossible’. That trainer tell me he cannot find keys, and I tell him bù ke néng; they are there, look harder!”
So when he asked me to do burpees that day, of course my response was “bù ke néng!”
He rolled his eyes at me and said: “I never want to hear you say that word again.”
Like that was going to happen. Since then, every time he has made me do something I don’t want to (which is pretty much everything) I cry bù ke néng! To which he calmly replies, you ke néng (it is possible).
Through his persistence and patience Mika has shown me that I can do the impossible….
… that I can do more than three minutes on the elliptical trainer. But I still maintain that just because I can do more than 40 minutes doesn’t mean I have to, right Mika?
… that I can balance on all fours on a fit ball. This is a relatively new accomplishment, and toward the end of the first time I did it unassisted I cried, ‘owwww! Mika! My triceps are burning!’… ‘I know,’ he replied, ‘I can see them!’ Ha – well I’ll be – my triceps are visible!
… that I can do push-ups. You should have seen the look of surprise on both our faces the first time I did ‘man’ push-ups on the ground.
… and that I can even win a point or two in a game of squash against him. Although, he is quick to remind me who is in control by completely slamming me on the next shot.
I have a long way to go. I still haven’t conquered chin-ups, and I’m so close to hitting a back wall shot in squash… but not close enough. And through my own laziness and lack of commitment to my running plan, it hasn’t panned out as I had envisaged. Although, when I asked Mika a couple of months ago if he thought I could run 8km by October, his response was: “Of course, why not?”
I get that you pay personal trainers to believe in you and motivate you; that’s their job. I joke with Mika that with the amount of sessions I’ve had with him (pretty much six days a week since January) surely I’ve paid for his future kid’s education. “No!” he insists. “Just my wedding.”
But the money I pay doesn’t cover the time he invited me to go to a Pump class with him because I had never been to one and well, going to your first Pump class at the best of times is overwhelming but even more so when the instructor doesn’t speak a lot of English. He also doesn’t get paid when he insists I play with his light, fancy squash racquet as he knows my cheap one is too heavy and hurts me.
For my first Gong fu lesson (which he organised after I jokingly said I wanted to learn how to use shuang jié gùn), Mika volunteered his time to be the translator (my shifu speaks very little English). About two minutes into the session, my shifu stopped what he was about to show me and had a quick chat with Mika.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“He wanted to know if you were capable of doing a particular stretch. I told him just to show you what he wants you to do and you will do it, even if you think you can’t.”
I guess being my advocate is another free service he offers.
I can’t blame him for leaving. He’s in love. His girlfriend, Alice (how much do we love her English name?!), lives in a city that is far from Beijing.
When I recently took Mika out for dinner to say thank you 1000 times over he told me the moment he realised he couldn’t live away from her any longer.
“Just before Spring Festival this year, I was talking to Alice on the phone and next minute she scream and then nothing. I was so scared, you know. I did not know what happen to her. Maybe she fall over. Maybe she is hurt. Anything could have happen! I was screaming into the phone: Alice! Alice! But nothing. So I call her friends. I tell them they must go find her. I felt helpless. Maybe five minutes later she call back. I am sorry, she said, I drop my phone in the drain… I knew then that I must be with her; that I love this girl”.
I, of all people, understand that you must do whatever it takes to be in the same city as the person you love. I still remember the day I went into the office of the Head of Journalism at James Cook Uni and said:
“Can you help me line up some volunteer radio work in Sydney. I gotta go see a boy. But I’m pretty sure the only way I can sell it to my parents is if it’s study related.”
I’ve been married to the boy seven years in August.
Mika and I have more in common than perhaps you could ever imagine a 24-year-old Chinese man and 31-year-old Australian woman to have:
- His Chinese name is Kai (read: the name that everyone calls him except us round-eye waiguoren);
- The only Jambo Juice smoothie he will drink is Goodbye Doctor (me too!);
- He once told me he likes the movie Pride and Prejudice (I love that movie! Although, he prefers the Keira Knightly version and I prefer the one with Colin Firth…);
- His parents own a service station (so did mine!);
- He was great friends with Alice’s brother in school and has known her since they were kids (I was best friends with Kai’s sister in high school!); and here’s the kicker…
- He enrolled in English class because he thought the teacher was hot (the exact same reason why my brother joined the school choir!).
When I pieced all of this together, I couldn’t help but exclaim: “Mika, ni shì wo zhongguó dìdìi!” (You are my Chinese little brother).
Tomorrow I start with my new trainer, Ian (go on, say it, I know it’s true… he’s just a rebound).
Over the past few weeks, Mika and I have had several discussions about what is important for Ian to know.
“I will tell him you like to play soccer on tennis court rather than stay inside.”
“Yes, good,” I say. “Do you think he’ll play squash with me once a week?”
“I think so. I will tell him.”
“Mika,” I say seriously, “if he doesn’t want to play, we need to find a trainer who will.” I feel irritable at the thought of not playing squash once a week with someone who makes me work hard. Can this really be me having these thoughts?
“Oh, maybe I tell him he must fan you with stretch mat,” he says, laughing at what has evolved into a common occurrence in my sessions. Mika discovered that if he can keep my mind off how hot and sweaty I am, I am more likely to finish the sets without pause (better for my fitness) and complaint (better for his sanity). So he follows me around waving a stretch mat, which is far more effective than the tiny, hand-held fan he sent one trainer to fetch for me. On more than one occasion, I have noticed the air getting more intense, and have looked up to find other trainers have joined Mika, waving anything from their clipboards to take-away menus they’ve picked up on the dinner run, in his plight to keep me focused.
“Does Ian know I am too advanced for burpees?”
“Dooooon’t worry,’ Mika assures me. “I already tell him you love to do burpee every day.”
Silence. I’d been out smart-arsed by him, again.
Ian is a nice guy (he told me a few weeks ago that I have gotten much smaller – why wouldn’t I like him?) and I am confident I will get good results with him. But as I told Mika, I’m just not sure Conversations with Ian has the same ring to it. I truly am hopeful that this is not the end, that there will be opportunity to enjoy many more Conversations with Mika, as I have so thoroughly enjoyed the ones we’ve had so far. But on that note, here is one to tide us over until my next chat with him:
Mika: You teach me many new words.
Me: Really? (I feel proud; like I have done good in this world by imparting my knowledge).
Mika: Yes, I never knew what whinge meant until I met you.
Me: Oh shut up Mika, you sha gua!