Being a coach is an interesting thing. When you’re a coach in the fitness world, you’re often tempted to think that your job stops there, or that fitness is all you have to offer people. For some coaches, that might be true. I believe that I became a coach to do something more. I’ve helped men and women lose fat, and gain muscle, and reclaim their health. And those things are important, I guess. But more important is what the experience allows them to do, in other facets of their lives. I’ve helped brides get ready for weddings, feeling confident on the biggest day of their lives. On the other hand, I’ve helped recent divorcees reclaim their confidence so they could get over the sting and get on with their lives. I’ve helped people lose over 100 pounds, completely changing their lives, and many athletes rehab what should have been career-ending injuries, allowing them to continue doing what they love. While I have a lot to learn, and often struggle with aspects of the job, I have come to accept that I am a great coach—because recently over the past three or so years, I’ve come to realize more than ever that being a coach doesn’t stop with fitness. Being a coach means taking someone into your hands and under your wing, and helping them in every way that you can. Whether it’s helping them figure out the first text to a new girl, or getting them to the point where they’re ready to ask for a raise, or just listening to their story about their loved ones, and/or crying with them through a personal struggle of a lost one. Being a coach is about helping people grow, helping them become better versions of themselves. And I say without hesitation that it has been the great honor of my life to help hundreds of people take steps to do just that. It may seem silly to think that getting fit can help you deal with something that shakes you to the very foundations of yourself. To some, it might seem odd that making a physical transformation can better prepare you to deal with divorce, or bankruptcy, or, god-forbid, a death. Or, more to the point, that it could help you cope with any of those things, should they happen. But to anyone who has gone through such a transformation, it doesn’t seem silly. Because they know that trial by fire is trial by fire, and that passing through one fire helps you understand how to deal with the heat of the next. I believe that we are all forged in the crucible of our experiences. Like a sword on an anvil, life beats us with heavy sledges, hammering down on us with painful blows, over and over and over. We are passed through the fire and beaten again, driving out impurities and forcing new materials into the mass. At the end of any trial, no matter how great or small, we are pulled from the fire and mercifully quenched in cool water. This not only brings us to the point where we can be handled safely, but ends the process in the most beneficial way: the sword of your soul is made both stronger and more flexible. If you do not know sword-making, you may be unaware that the flexibility is the more important of the two qualities. Strength is important, to be sure; if a sword is too soft, it will be easily bent, and it will not hold an edge. But if it is too hard, it will break entirely. With steel, as in life, pliancy is necessary for resiliency. Your trials will make you stronger, and more pliant; hard enough to hold and edge, but not so hard that you will shatter with the next hit. Going forward, you’ll be more resistant to all manner of blows, be they from pain or pleasure, challenge or change, strife or serenity. I believe that exposure to extreme physical stress, like that we experience in the gym, is a trial unto itself; and like all trials, passing through it helps prepare you for those to come. Sometimes, I think we forget that changing your body really can allow you to change your life. Not just because you’re healthier or have increased confidence. But very simply, because when the rest of your life is spinning out of control, being able to take control of yourself, to bend and mold your physical shell to your will…that’s something that gives you strength. Pure strength. A strength based in the security that while many things can be taken from you, while control may be impossible to maintain in all situations, there is one place that you will always be the master: the temple of your body. That security can help you in any and all trials down the road, no matter what area of life those trials may be in. And so, yes, to some people it may seem a silly or presumptuous thought that getting fit can help you deal with life, and death, and everything in between with greater strength and composure. To people who have been through it, however, it’s impossible not to view things that way; it’s impossible not to view every set and rep as a hammer blow on the anvil, every training session as time in the forge, and the entire ordeal as something that hardens you, to the core of your being. I believe this fully. I believe that the Hero’s Journey of my physical transformation prepared me to deal with the trials of my personal life journey, and my career journey, and my journey that is yet to fully take place (having a son, Ellis Noble Bailey, due Jan. ‘14). I believe that the struggles I faced in all of these journeys helped shape me, and make me more capable of dealing with the personal hardships I’ve faced over the years. Training has taught me long-term lessons about change, and sacrifice, and how to deal with both. It’s taught me about savoring successes and relishing in achievements; it’s also taught me about learning from defeats. Training has given me a stronger body, but it has also given me a stronger mind, and a stronger spirit. In a very real way, training has made me a better person, because I will carry the lessons with me until the end of my life. But there are short-term uses as well. Even now, to this day, when things are bad, it’s there. When shit falls apart, or I get bad news about someone I love, or I get a situation I don’t know how to deal with, or I just get so filled with frustration and rage that I need to find a way to let it out before it consumes me, it’s there. It’s the one thing (well second, my wife is definitely the other ; ) ) that’s always there for me: testing me, teasing me, helping me. Making me stronger, again and again and again. My time spent training is what helps me, and has helped me regain control when all else is confusing. There’s comfort in the absolutism that training provides, and more in the control it lends you. In his now-famous essay, Iron and the Soul, Henry Rollins said this far more simply and elegantly than I ever could: “The Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds of talk, get told that you’re a god or a total bastard…friends may come and go. But 200 pounds is always 200 pounds.” To Your Success, Patrick Bailey MS, PES
Posted on: Thu, 12 Sep 2013 16:48:11 +0000
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