Archive for February, 2009

spa_fitnessOkay, so I’ve got a few choices for my next career move, considering Ive been aiming at building my career honestly for like 15 years or so.

First I started at Firehouse Books and Espresso, building up relationships with people and sometimes not be choice, being dragged into their personal lives, knowing and growing their personal relationships with people. Then I quickly moved into the love and well being of fitness where I joined the local Curves at quickly excelled at being a fitness techinician. I had the canny ability to not only to get to know the medical facts that would affect their exercise regimen, but also knew when a husband switched jobs and the consequential stress associated with that decision. She just had to come and exercise that shit out. And even so, it became a stressful job not to only get their HR up and their BP up, but also to help a woman with hypothyroidism learn how to exercise.

Could I trust myself training a woman with hypothyroidism without the proper training, or at least something like that? I mean, what could I bring to the table to challenge her without, I guess, giving her a heart attack? For all I knew, I liked to sweat hard and I also liked to row.

Well, I liked to row so much that I needed it everyday, in fact a few times a day. I needed the air, I needed to be with the birds, I needed to be out in the middle of no where with no one else. Obviously there is evidence that people have been here before, I mean, like empty waterways, still long yachts, lonely hardened Southern docks to temp me. As I went by every dock could have been the very dock I jumped from when I was a child. In between the docks I managed to fit in a few good strokes here and there.

As I became more fit, I needed more competition. I had traveled to the local Southeast Regional competition for rowing and had easily won 1st place, and I needed a challenge. I needed to find more daily compeition on top of that if I was really serious about it. So I decided to move to Philly, train for the National Rowing team, and in the meantime work as a personal trainer.

From the very beginning in that high class, two story, 6000 square foot gym I was always kept on the gym floor with a running leash, kind of like where you can leave your dog outside in the rain and it has the reigns to run around “freely,” but would for sure get electrocuted the minute he stepped outside the boundaries. I was lucky back then to see that I was strongly protected using electrocution directly ellicited from the boss once I made a stupid decisions with my clients.

I was considered an independent contractor, which meant that I got paid in full for every client that I claimed on the payroll, and then I would be responsible for the taxes I made at the end of the year. To be able to handle this at 22 years old I thought was pretty responsible, even considering the small annual investment I made into Canadadian coal for retirement later. But the big thing was that I didn’t understand the concept of insurance. I had never gotten into an accident with my car, because that was the closest thing I really understood why insurance was a good thing. I needed it for legal reasons. Otherwise I’d be seriously fucked if I didn’t have it. What if I got sued in this sue-happy-state?

When I took 10 year old Jill and her 9 year old brother into a raquetball court and had them throw an 8 lb medicine ball into the air for each one to catch, I never thought their would be a problem. When I trained Michele on the mat for the simple prevention of pelvic floor problems after she had just told me about the explicit journey that her and her husband had attempted to travel into. Or that having Rachel run ladders outside in the parking lot was not covered by insurance becacuse It was literally outside the physical boundaries for legal protection.

Kevin had pulled me into the office, and I had realized that I had just been outside my fenced area and just had been electrocuted.

“Do you realize how much you are a liability to this company?” Its true, I wasn’t respecting the insurance boundaries and the professional boundaries at all. I was performing some mobilizations on clients, but it wasn’t that bad. I mean, in my record I had only pulled two hip flexors, hernieated one disc, and ripped the lower abs of another client. Was I that bad?

I thought that having a 4 year degree in exercise science could protect me from any harm. Or maybe my cute ass could protect me, along with my sexy-trailing smile.

I had caught myself. I needed a change. Not only by this point I had met the man of my life, but I realized that I was getting into something really stupid professionally. I needed to be challenged and I definitely didn’t want to work as hard for sales. I shouldn’t have to sell fitness, I mean, it should sell itself. Everyone should want to be intrinsically as fit as possibly, which would ward off disease, make the heart stronger, and help us deal with everyday stresses.

Fitness became more of a life sustaining necessity rather than a life fulfilling thing at that point. I needed fitness to make me a better ______(fill in the blank here, and this would assume any role you take on on a daily basis anyway). Rather that’s a mother, a student, a businessman, a coffee barista, a whatever! Fitness is the amazing balance of hormones that affect us on a daily basis. Sometimes we don’t give our body enough credit as it already is. For example, research has shown that a woman’s mood minute to minute can be attributed to the very hormones in our bodies: estrogen, progesterone, oxytocin, and GH. And Cortisol. And others.


In speaking with one of my professors at school about the combined sections meeting he just went to for the APTA, I couldn’t help but check out the suggestion he made to me after confessing my undying love for health, wellness and prevention all in the spectrum of PT. So check out this lady in Arlington, VA, he said. She has won a million awards through the APTA and has made a specific corporation that is EXTREMELY similar to the exact business I want to get into. Finally some hope! This economy won’t force me to go into long term care!!

Here’s an NPR special on her treatment style. She is extremely innovative AND cheap. She uses an inflated, closed BP cuff underneath a pt’s trunk in order to teach her how to contract her transverse abdominals!!!

HOW SMARTbodydynamics-inc1

We are Growing our Roots Together!

We are Growing our Roots Together!

I met him through a friend of mine who pissed me off on a daily basis. Sometimes my friend would call me, sometimes he wouldn’t. He would definately call me if he had nothing else better to do, or if he happened to be finished playing with his cock. We were cool back then: just a coffee friend. I couldn’t be friends with him anymore than that. He was just annoying for the most part.

But he took me to his neighborhood coffee shop, and the minute I walked in, yes I was overwhelmed with the blah blah pungent smell of coffee, but better yet it was a shop with the ugliest collection of photography I’ve ever seen. The inner dweller people were the farthest I would consider friend-friendly. I could just tell they were laughing at me everytime I spoke… was it the fact that I came in with johnny?

The guy behind the counter was long haired, probably hadn’t taken a shower in 5 days, and apparently loved the raunchy metal t-shirt that that he wore. It hardly qualified as a t-shirt there were so many holes in it. Luckily it covered all the parts I did not want to see.

At that point, I became a pure coffee addict, and yes, Hi my name is Sally and Im addicted to coffee. I would find myself driving 20 minutes away to this guy’s coffee shop just for a small cup of joe on my hour break. I swear it was crack in that coffee. It made me come back for more.

Then I would have mornings I thought I wouldnt be able to make it through my day if I hadn’t had my coffee. Like I would fall asleep on the leg extension machine right in the middle of counting my clients reps. “1, 2, zzz, 4, 5…”

So I started staying on my days off, on my half days, on any day I had an hour to spare before I went to work. I would work on my computer, writing poetry, writing home to Mom and Dad, reviewing what was the next step for applying to schools. For one second, it was just one second, I’d look over the brim of the laptop in front of me and LOCK eyes with him. WTF? Are you looking at something behind me? Oh please don’t be looking at me. You are soooo not my type.

JP loves metal, would cook and clean to it, make gay ass lattes to it, and most likely jacked off to his mighty greatness in making the worlds best latte while listening to metal. That shit is just too hard for me, I told him. Look, I know I need something hard in my life, but metal was so far away from the thought of a hard cock to sit on.

Then it all started to come together. JP was helpful to his customers, loyal to the in-house old lady who sat in the middle of the shop reading the NY Post and listened to every single neighborhood rumor. Little did I know that later she would become my neighbor and call me down to her apartment door just to take care of the cat shit she has wrapped in a bag.

JP was hard working. He worked everyday, maybe switched one or two shifts off with his girlfriend — oops I mean — employee. And wait, Erin is his wife?

I had met Erin first before I met JP and had never put the two together. She was one of the crowd who made up the neighborhood of the coffee shop. She would sit in the corner in the comfy chair and growl about school. Her comments bled with low self-esteem and hatred. I didnt realize they were together until 6 weeks after I had started going when she finally piped up to JP, “Can we please go home soon? I am so tired.” That bitch would bark these orders to him while he slaved latte after latte, and the light in my head just totally changed color to illuminate him… he was at first a flat headed dirt bag who listened to ugly music and didnt give a shit whether you liked his awesome coffee or not. Now, he was develping into a caring, hardworking business owner who never did enough for his bossy-ass wife. Was it him developing? or was my idea of him changing?

He sought refuge in my apartment in the next few months. I had just moved into this place right above his coffee shop a few weeks earlier. I figured, how bad could it be living and breathing above this man who listens to bad, bad metal music who slaves at pleasing his never ending demanding wife. Maybe if he strives for that acceptance even from anyone, not just his wife, he can’t be all that bad.

And that’s where it started. I listened to him dribble about how she never cleaned at home, never more than 5 times in the 8 months they lived there had never made him dinner. He deserved so much more than the life he was living. Why had he believed himself “worthy” of this life he was living. He stopped going home. He started sleeping at the coffee shop. He took showers at another neighbor’s house, he ate only bagels and crossiants and drank coffee. He put on weight. He was sad.

JP became my friend. He became my mentor with my pursuits in sport. He learned that he needed more than what Erin was giving him. He realized he needed encouragement and positive thoughts to encompass him, not debbie downers 24 hours a day. He was tired of being her punching bear, of being the run-to-dude when she couldn’t figure out how to get the toilet paper out of her ass.

I helped him open his eyes.