Five months ago I sat down with Ali to discuss fitness goals. I represented a unique challenge; I was the oldest potential client he had ever faced. Looking back, I am not sure he knew what to expect. How would I react to his dry sense of humor? Was I willing to work? Would I stay with it? This was just the beginning of his questions but for the most part Ali just smiled and took a single step with me.
For my part, I was equally unsure. I do not know if all three questions were at the top of my list but I know two of them were. Last night I sat down and looked at the data from that day and compared it to a snapshot from yesterday. As I thought through margins for error and absolute changes, I found myself encouraged with the progress. While I still have some way to go, I have progressed past more than half way.
In my reflection of then and now, I realized I could remember some of the faces that were in the gym back in March. While some have become more familiar, many are just a fuzzy image in my mind that I struggle to see in my memories. I do not know why they are no longer coming. Perhaps their schedules are radically different and there is little chance we will ever meet again. Then again, maybe it did not work out for them. For the latter group, I suspect that their personal stats would be essentially the same or moderately worse than they were in March.
I doubt it is anyone’s fault. In some cases it was a choice. For others, circumstances took control. For whatever reason, a twisted way to look at it is a parody of an old psalm; Ali and other trainers playing the role of God in the lives of people thinking of getting in shape; they “makes homes for the homeless, leads prisoners to freedom, but leaves rebels to rot in hell.” (Psalm 68.6)
Choices have consequences.
