Things I’ve learned from being a personal trainer: Equitable division of resources
December 6, 2009
I used to be pretty good at this. Writing, that is. The ability has atrophied a little these past few months. It’s not just that I’ve barely written or read; I’ve barely thought. I have been so immersed in the physical being of others and my own, whole levels of processing have fallen into disuse. I told a dude at the mall that a calliope was a word that sounded like its meaning…which I suppose it is, but not in the definitional sense he was looking for. A subtle error, but the sort of semantic minutia I used to excel at.
I have this theory: you can only spend a certain amount of aptitude at once. It’s not so much a function of time as it is karmic allotment. You don’t get to be good at everything. There is this tacit agreement between brain and the superficial body that the interest of one will be served before the other. My brain has taken the dozen or so hours of intense working out a week as a clear sign its services are no longer needed. Sadly I now lack the wit to convince it otherwise.
In the past three months I’ve gone from moderately fit to conspicuously buff. There is this place between a six and eight pack where your physicality becomes this aberrant social marker: people assume you’ve either just finished a long bid in prison, are sublimating hidden rage, or work in the sort of job reserved for gym class standouts/high school dropouts. You become this enviable, if marginal, species that couldn’t possibly be of consequence. And dear lord is it seductive: that peculiar mix of unearned worth and low expectation. To have clearly realized some small potential; it’s the sort of thing one could happily live down to.
I’ll let you know how it goes.