Tag Archives: learning

Hope for sale

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Facebook is full of Buy Swap Sell pages.

Generally, people are cleaning out their garage or buying something to replace the old. Posts usually include the words “listed elsewhere” and “or nearest offer”. I saw an ad once from someone selling a Chester Drawers. It took me a bit to work that one out. Turned out they were selling a chest of drawers. It made me laugh to think that they called it Chester, and I imagined them walking down the hallway and bumping into the drawers and saying, “Oh, sorry Chester, I didn’t see you there”. Poor Chester.

On eBay, I’ve been caught out more than once by sellers having items for sale that they don’t actually have. I’m currently waiting on one such item. I’ve been emailing them to try to find the item and they told me a couple of weeks ago to be patient because the item is at my local post office. I got a refund, but I still don’t have my item.

The point is, selling something you don’t have – it doesn’t work.

There are things you buy or do that are investments into the future. We recently made a vegetable patch. Because we were starting from absolute scratch, we had to buy the stuff to create the garden beds, and the soil and the fertiliser and the seedlings and seeds and the works. But we did it, in the hope that in a few months, we’d have a harvest. Essentially, we bought into the future; we’d bought hope. Because there’s no guarantee that the weather would be right for these crops, there’s no promise that we’d get our money’s worth. There’s just hope.

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Yesterday at Tafe we were asked to consider what personal trainers are selling. What we’re giving clients in exchange for your hourly rate. Several answers were offered but none of them really sat right with me.

And then it struck me.

If you’re selling something, firstly you need to have surplus of it. Secondly, it’s generally an investment into the future.

For me, personal training is about selling hope.

Consider it.

Imagine hitting rock bottom with your health. No, I mean worse than what you’re considering. It hurts to move. You have weight related health conditions. You can’t play with the kids, you struggle to do basic things. Doctors are telling you to lose weight but if it was that easy, don’t they think you would? Because it isn’t easy.

But you take a punt. And this takes more courage than the average person could ever understand. So you find a trainer, someone who you’ve heard gets it. Someone who has come recommended. They take you through some basic screening, check out your functional movement so that they can work out what the beginning is for you. And you hand over the money, with plans to be spending more of it with this person, based on one single thing:

Hope.

They might be able to help turn things around. They might help you save your life. They might even help you start to enjoy exercise without pain, without intimidation, without shame.

And it’s all a might, but it’s anchored in one thing: Hope.

I’m confident in this because it’s what I bought, almost two years ago. I didn’t know how it was going to work, or even if I could stick with it. I didn’t know if my body could do it, or if my mind could do it. But I had to try, I just had to. So I handed over the dollars. Signed up for one session a week. Went to each session, and did what I needed to do in between sessions. At the time I had no understanding of what my awesome PT was telling me to do, what it would all add up to, what difference it could make. But I just did it. Because I’d paid for hope, and I had put action in that investment.

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Before buying hope.

So while it’s an industry that can be tied up in appearance and numbers on scales and measurements, don’t forget that essentially it’s got the potential to be an industry that’s about hope. And if you’re lucky, you’ll find the people to be on your team with it. Who know it’s about hope. And when yours falters, they’ll remind you that it’s still there.

Hope for sale.

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Investment: worth it.

Yes I Can.

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I started doing this thing at the gym. Powercamp. It’s crossfit. Something I’ve wanted to do for ages and my trainer said it was time to give it a go, so I did.

For most people this would be another step forwards in their getting fit journey, as wanky as that sounds.

For me?

Good grief, what a frigging challenge.

Not so much the actual doing of Powercamp, but what goes along with it. New people. Unfamiliar routines. A different trainer running it. Today was session number three and I finally hit the panic wall.

What was different today? Well, number one, I was tired. There was meant to be some shitstorm weather here last night so the fur babies slept with me. Yes they’re cute, but how much sleep do you think I got?

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Number two, the exercises I didn’t know how to do outnumbered the ones I did know how to do. And number three? We had to work with a partner.

Cue rising panic.

To my credit, I didn’t do what I wanted to do. I stayed. Did a different warm up on the rower, so outside of the Powercamp room. And I have to right say how amazing the trainer was – she didn’t give me the option to leave, instead she directed me to something that would give me some headspace to refocus myself. When I’d rowed and calmed slightly, she came over and told me I’d be working with another woman. Rising panic once again – what if I slowed her down, what if I wasn’t as fit or as fast as her, what if what if what if!!!

But here’s the thing.

There was a list of about eight different things we had to do, and we had to (between us) complete 100 of each thing in the time limit. And together, my partner and I almost finished the list. We missed the skipping (which was good as I had a full bladder) and the planking. But we did a lot of that list. More than I thought I would get through.

Here’s the other thing.

As we worked together, I actually enjoyed it. And I liked the partner work out. And I kept up with her.

I finished the session and went to meet my personal trainer, who asked how it went. I told her about panic and why. And she delivered a firm but wise slap to my brain. Told me in no uncertain times that I need to get my head together and realise that I am fit and strong and able. That she wasn’t going to let anyone put shit on me, and reminded me that at this gym, nobody puts shit on anyone anyway (She’s right, by the way. If you’re a Novocastrian, check out Planet Fitness at Charlestown).

And so I had a bit of a think.

The reality is that in 12 months I’ve dropped close to 40kg. I’ve gained muscle and strength. Life is so much easier now. I can do so much more. The size of my clothing has changed dramatically, my rings don’t fit, oddly enough my glasses now look enormous and even my shoes have become slightly too big. I can see those things and I feel a little flicker of pride every day because of it.

But the un-seeable things. My fitness. My confidence. My belief in my own ability. Trusting myself and my new body (even as a work in progress). These things, I am struggling to accept.

After being so unfit for so long, it’s hard to remember (let alone understand) that things are different now.

I don’t know what the solution is here. I get the feeling it’s a practice thing – I need to remind myself that I can do things. That I am totally able. That even when my Aspy brain wants to panic, the reality is that I am more than physically able to conquer the challenges that Powercamp presents. I need to remember reality. That it’s going to take time to get used to this body and it’s fitness and strength.

And I need to remember how much I’ve achieved.

It’s hard. But I’m a stubborn cow. So my new mantra has become this:

Yes I can.

Yes I can.

Yes I can.