“What the hell are you thinking?”
I’ve wanted to say this so many times. No, shout it. “How can you possibly tell me you are not eating carbs and not drinking wine! Look at you!” My mouth is shut; my mind is not.
I love what I do, and I’m good at it. My clients and I have a mutual respect and appreciation for each other. But there are moments, thankfully brief. . .
“Just stop! Stop! You are going to kill yourself.” If you would just let me take that dumbbell from you and not drop it.
My Buddhist guru calls this Monkey Mind. “Let the monkey out for a few seconds,” he tells me, “then let it go. He will destroy your serenity.” I breathe.
I think I’m mellowing out. “This is hard for you, but you’re getting it.”
Ugh, here he comes again. “Listen to me. I have more experience. I have more education.” I particularly like this one because, after all, I have a PhD and eight personal training certifications.
What was I saying? Oh yeah, now I remember. I was so caught up in myself that I forgot what I wanted you to do.
Get off my back, you hairy monkey. AmScray. “Didn’t you hear me?” my mind shouts. “Pull the bar down easily; don’t yank it.” Monkey mind, monkey mind.
The monkey is leaving. I sigh in relief. “Yes?” I exclaim. “Your form is perfect. Your shoulders are back; your chest is out.”
Here he comes. AmScray. Get off my back you hairy monkey. “I am the trainer. You pay me to be right.”
I wave farewell to the monkey. “You’ve got it! Perfect!” I say aloud. My client beams.
Sneaky little thing. Ten seconds. Ten seconds. That’s all you got today, you furry intruder!
“You are so patient and understanding,” my client says to me. “I appreciate you so much. I never thought I could do this.”
I breathe. I smile. “You’re doing great! You work hard and pay attention. This was a hard workout.”
Take that, you obnoxious primate. You can never say anything that will make me hurt my client or dislike my job. Ten seconds! That’s all you get.