an unexpected gift

last month i received a mailer from planet fitness that contained a coupon for a two week free trial of the black card membership.

black card members are permitted to bring a free guest with them every visit. i redeemed the offer on the 7th of December and told my dad that he was going to start coming to the gym with me at least once a week to use the lat pull down and seated row.

like everyone else in this forward facing society, my dad’s shoulders are starting to become rounded and he is noticeably hunched over. he lifts weights in the basemen, but there aren’t many exercises he can do at home to strengthen his back and bring those shoulders back to center.

the day before my trial membership ended he finally agreed to tag along with me...most likely because he had run out of excuses not to go.

i intentionally chose a time that would not be crowded to make the experience as pleasant as possible. i stopped by the house after work to pick him up. he was dressed in khaki shorts with a belt and a t-shirt, then proceeded to explain that he did not have sweat pants. many of the older men wear jeans to the gym and on top of that, his jeans are so loose that they fit like sweatpants anyway. i instructed him to change and we were on our way.

i showed him how to use three different types of pull downs and rows. he completed two sets of each, then we walked upstairs to look at the treadmills, which i assured him were just like the one we have at home...just push quick start...3.0 speed is the same here as the one we have in the basement. we finished on the stretch machine. it was a twenty minute visit.

on the way home we talked about plans to visit again. i let him know that i upgraded my membership as a christmas present for him and that he was welcome to come along any time he’d like, even if all he wanted to do that day was walk on the treadmill.

later on in the day my mom told me that she had asked him how it went. he said he had a good time and that he was looking forward to going back again.

in the eight years that i have been personal training, my father has been extremely resistant to anything i have tried to show him when it come to fitness.

when i asked him about going back again he told me he wanted it to be at a time when i could stay with him on the floor and teach him.

it turns out that i wasn’t the one giving him a gift at all...he is the one giving the gift to me.

I met a hooker and I liked it

I’m 45 years old and just met a prostitute for the first time.

Perhaps I have unknowingly met one in passing at some point in time. This, however was a sure thing.Part of my job as a trainer at the gym is to provide “comp sessions” to members. These thirty minute training sessions are free of charge and enable the client to obtain a structured workout which they can follow on their own.

Usually I confirm these sessions the night before and in this case I did just that. We agreed to meet in the lobby at 9:30am since I would already be downstairs teaching a class.

When I saw her I immediately recalled that we had met briefly in the spring. At the time she was VERY deconditioned after a long illness and still suffered from stomach/GI issues. The session didn’t even last 10 minutes. She excused herself and went to the bathroom to vomit. When she came out she apologized, saying that today was not a good day and she needed to go home.

Now, she was in a much better place.

I asked what I could help her with during this session. She told me that she didn’t want any weight training, just cardio because she needed to lose ten pounds by the end of the month for work.

I set her up with interval programs on the treadmill, stair climber and rower. We sat down at the training desk so I could write it out for her. She was very appreciative, emphasizing that she just need to lose these last six pounds and be done with it.

I asked her what it was she did for work and she said “I’m an escort” Oh, I said, you mean you...Before I could finish what I was saying she chimed in to confirm “I’m a prostitute.I have my own clients and make $10,000 cash a month, but I need to get down to 120 so I can get head shots for this escort service."

By now I was COMPLETELY fascinated, still digesting what she had told me...Oh, well, how about we see how this program goes for you and we touch base in a week (in other words, after I make a list of questions I wanna ask you about being a prostitute)She agreed and we parted ways.

On Monday night I received a text informing me that she lost all of the weight. She thanked me and said we wouldn’t need to meet tomorrow.

So many questions left unanswered, but I’m thankful I was able to help her achieve her goal weight. I’m sure many men will be satisfied with the finished product.

my 45th year

the plant yogi...constantly varied gear...concept2...chsp, tootsie pops...carinal tattoo...caffeinated cross...echo dot...wild coal...weighted blanket...acupressure mat...pure kana, cbd...collagen coffee...yogi toes...thrive market, volcano rice, chosen foods, chipotle lime mayo, wonder noodles...sports recovery lab, freeze and squeeze, rapid reboot...tooth and honey, narwhals...crunch fitness, gut feeling, bad blood...adult swim lessons, finis, speedo, tyr, aqua guard...royal fitness...planet fitness...collingswood farmers market, buck wild bison...workout with mom...ocean city, uncle bills, buckwheat pancakes...gluten free...pancake heaven...patagonia baggies...camp hazel, uncle paul...waterloo water...forced minimalism, white mushrooms, frozen carrots...never skip leg day, short hair don’t care, dft, flex friday...refinance from hell...draftkings, fanduel...tethered, break the chains, the day i stopped living, hamster on a wheel...keep on spinning

joy

I haven’t been the same since you left.  

I have found myself in a place where all of the joy has been removed from my life. 

Some of it has been a conscious decision on my part (for financial reasons) but most of it happened unintentionally. 

Social media serves as a reminder that it has been over a year since I took a vacation. It has gotten to the point where I wouldn’t even know what to do for fun if I took time off. 

This weekend I will turn 45. New Hampshire serves as my default when it comes to getting away. It’s probably because that’s the only place I have traveled to in the last three years while completing the 4000 footers. 

It is easy to run away to the mountains, to be alone and hike for days on end. That is something I have become very good at doing. Then, I had a thought...maybe I should try something this year that isn’t easy...maybe I owe it to myself...maybe I should start searching for joy in some familiar places. 

And that was my decision. 
And it’s one that I am certain he would approve of. 

So I called up an old friend and invited myself to her beach house where I will sample some local beers and play pinball. I put air in the tires of my cyclocross bike, lubed the chain and searched for a few local races. I reached out to people. I made lunch plans for next week. I made dinner plans for next week. 

If I tackle all of those things great, but even if I accomplish only one it will be a step in the right direction.

the day i stopped living AKA a very dark place

i don’t know exactly when it happened. most likely it has been a slow, gradual process...one that goes unnoticed until you wake up one day and realize that you don’t know what day it is because all of your days are the same...a hamster on a wheel...rinse and repeat

one minute you are having your coffee and the next you’re turning down the sheets for bed. everything that happened between those two events is just a blur...and the days turn into weeks and the week turn into months and the next thing you know three years have passed

i never thought it would be smooth sailing after Matt died, but I also didn’t think it would lead me down this road...to a very dark place

some time between august 2016 and that day (whenever it was) i came to terms with the fact that i was tethered...that i would in fact be tethered until my presence here was no longer necessary...to put it bluntly, i am stuck here until my parents die

this realization has paralleled the grieving process...and in a way, it has required a separate grieving process of it’s own because it has left me feeling dead inside. i wouldn’t call it depression...it’s more just trying to learn how to manage the cards i have been dealt

i want to tell you something...i have a plan for the future...my dream is to buy a travel trailer and work for the hospitality company that operates in several of the national parks...i will live in the travel trailer...and part of the year i will work in one park (like the grand canyon) and the other part of the year i will work in another (like glacier)...i will live simply and encounter people from all over the world. it will be a great adventure. i am hopeful.

oh those Wildwood days...

When you’re eleven years old, the drive to Wildwood feels like an eternity. 

In the late 80’s my mom drove a sandalwood Ford Taurus station wagon with a seat that popped up in what we called “the back back.” It was the premium spot for long journeys like the one to the Jersey Shore so we had to take turns sitting there.

Growing up, we didn’t go on vacation like most families. My father worked all the time so it was my mother who took us on short trips to visit my grandmother and her two sisters who spent the summer in Wildwood.

Helen, Sis and Ann rented a small two bedroom apartment at the Sunnyside Motel on 13th and Surf. When the three of us arrived it was definitely close quarters. One double bed, two twin beds and a fold out sofa allowed just enough room for the six of us.

Upon our arrival I'd walk a few blocks to the Little Giant Market for a loaf of bread and a game of Donkey Kong. My grandmom always made sure we were well fed and had a good time. Pizza at Mack’s, Curley’s Fries, Sea Shell Ice Cream and Samuel’s Pancakes were all consumed on a daily basis. On occasion we would have to get fancy and go to Ed Zaberers or Duffy’s on the Lake, but she also made sure she treated us to a day at Raging Waters Water Park as well as several rounds of miniature golf at Hassles.

We would hit the beach, but never for more than a few hours. My brother and I both preferred the boardwalk, not for the rides but for the games. Each night we’d spend our allowance playing games and earning tickets, which we’d cash in for prizes. Sometimes we’d spend an entire summer saving for one big item like a Sony Watchman. Inevitably there would be a surplus after attaining said item which left us with a plethora or trinkets like Chinese finger traps and plastic kazoos.

My mom always felt better about us spending our money on something that would yield us something rather than waste it on the crane game, which we did play our fair share of, especially the summer when the coveted prize was a large white plastic mug with a California Raisins logo printed on it.

On the last day of our visit we would go to the boardwalk and stock up on fudge and saltwater taffy before making the long trip home during which I would listen to one of the two cassettes I owned, Bruce Springsteen Born in the USA or the Beach Boys Greatest hits Volume 1. 

I’m happy to reminisce on these times, but sad for the reason I have done it on the past two anniversaries of my brother’s passing. They say a picture is worth a thousand memories, but I think that just one memory is worth thousands more.

sit on it

Just before the holidays I was having some pretty significant discomfort in my lower back. I am fairly active and my job as a personal trainer depends on my body having its shit together. For this reason, I have incorporated yoga, massage and chiropractic into my “preventive maintenance” schedule. There is a statement on the wall at the chiropractor’s office that says something like “13 hours per day” is the average amount of time we spend sitting. This obviously was a contributing factor to my lower back discomfort. 

I thought to remedy the situation by purchasing a better desk chair, a really fancy ergonomic one, but they proved to be too expensive. I expanded my search to craigslist and found a couple Herman Miller chairs that fit my budget. Then I gave it some more thought...you know what...instead of spending $300 on a new chair (so I can continue to sit more) why don’t I just reduce the amount of time I spend sitting...and that’s exactly what I did. 

Treat the cause not the symptom.