The 1%

Before entering EMS, I was a personal trainer and ran a gym with another trainer in a very affluent area. My co head trainer specialized in what we call the “toyota camrys”.

Toyota Camry: If you don’t make it go fast or jump it, they will last forever.

He had a booming cliental of consistent middle aged professionals.

I specialized in (adolescent) athletes…which we joked was the equivalent of building a race car. It required a team of which I was only one component. Race cars need pit crews. At the peak of my business, I worked alongside two massage therapists, a Phd candidate At Korey Stringer, a Registered Dietician, and a PhD physical therapist. Race cars break and need constant adjustments. It was a 24/7/365 job. I was lucky to have an award winning trainer mentor me as my success continued. To him, you know who you are, I know you had no reason to help me but am forever grateful you chose to. Thank you, big brother.

I would receive calls at all hours about injuries or concerns from over bearing parents or kids who screwed up but did not want to call their parents…just yet. I was watching games and learning sports. I was juggling contracts with individuals and teams. Annually reevaluating my insurance coverage and consulting lawyers to revise releases. I was adjunct faculty at a college for two years. I was on a national board to help restructure the boxing program for a major brand for over a year. I had the opportunity to meet athletes and trainers from all over the country. I had an absolute blast as a trainer but it was also the hardest job I have had in terms of work-life balance. The job is personal.

You take it all home. That is your job. The dreams of your athletes become your dreams. Their injuries break your heart but you have to be strong for them. You prescribe the plan, then “we” execute it. However, as my mentor said time and time again at my frustration at athletes pissing away their talent, “you can never want it more than they do.”

Let’s just say when I was accepted into paramedic school, I thought my background as a trainer would help me a lot more on the medical end.

I could not have been more incorrect.

When people ask me about the transition I say, “I went from training the top 1% of the population to treating the bottom 1%”.

What I took with me from the trainer side was nothing from the physiologic department. It was from the “people” category.

I remember I was leaving the YMCA after a christmas eve run and swim many years ago. I received a call from a parent of one of my athletes. My athlete had gone to her dads house and taken a bunch of pills in an attempt to kill herself. Her dad came home early, found her on the floor and called 911. She was in the ICU.

I remember the mother crying on the phone as I stood with wet hair in the parking lot looking at my warm breath diffuse the sky. I asked if I could go see her but they were not accepting visitors. I said all the things you are supposed to in those situations, and I meant them. I told her to call me anytime and I am here for anything they need.

I had taken this athlete on as a favor. My books at the time were slammed but I tried really hard to never turn down work. People go on summer vacation, get injured or graduate. I knew it would even out eventually, maybe. Her mother had pleaded with me to give her a shot.

She had been bullied a lot at school. She had no training but wanted to try out for her school’s softball team in the spring. She worked hard for me. She worked hard for herself.

Although she did make it out of the hospital, she never returned to school or training. She went into a psych based boarding facility. She sent me a lovely hand written card once, which I have hanging in my art studio.

This would not be the last time I had an athlete try to take their own life.

I took this with me into EMS. The feeling of being on the other end of that call. The side where you cannot do anything but wait. I hope the EMS providers treated her with kindness, although I am skeptical after working in the field.

I carry this athlete with me.

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My Toyota Camry partner approached me and said he had a client who he wanted me to assess. Although this trainer did not focus on athletes, he had been drafted and had extensive experience within sports. I always assumed he chose his Camry focus as it provided job security and less drama. Athletes can be a bad reality tv show. He was an excellent trainer and I could not have asked for a better business partner.

This athlete was in his senior year of high school. He had blown BOTH his ACLs. It was the fall and he had surgery. He had received an athletic scholarship to play football and run track for Howard. The kid was an animal.

We had 8-9 months to rehab these surgeries. Camry trainer and I would split the account. I was to work bilateral balance, mobility and fine motor skill. Camry would handle the conditioning. The athlete was also in physical therapy multiple days a week and receiving proper rehab between sessions. Rehabbing alone was a full time job. I remember taking this on with the mentality “hope for the best, plan for the worst”. So much was on the line.

But hell, this damn kid had the best attitude of anyone I have ever trained. He never missed a session. He never showed any doubt in himself or the plan. He laughed when he failed and then tried again.

You know what? He did it. He made a full recovery, kept his scholarship and played all through college.

I carry this athlete with me.

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I took on a girl from a local college. She used to compete but works for a friend of mine on a farm. She is 21 and had a hip replacement 7 months ago. It was degenerative. She did PT for a few weeks before they cut her loose. She has not been able to walk right since the surgery.

She came to me scared. The leg and hip were so weak she walked with a limp. She was not able to lift her knee to 90 degrees. She told me she was “afraid it would fail” on her.

She had lived years with a bad hip and shortened leg. She had this ailment since she was a young child. Due to the constant changes of pediatrics combined with the insurance calling the treatment shots in the US, this pt had to wait over a decade for surgery approval. She had grown comfortable with the pain and handicap. She said sometimes she couldn’t stand up after class and would have to sit in an empty classroom until her leg would activate.

She had grown accustomed to the devil she knew over the course of her life. Surgery gave her a new body, an unfamiliar one at that. Slap on a lack of PT and you have a girl who is alone, away from home, afraid and unprepared for her new baseline.

I told her we would build her up together. Start with showing the muscles their length, then we would add on strength. Not my first rodeo. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.

Our second session, we were working on spider mans. Hold Plank and then step your same side foot to the outside of that hand. She was unable to do it on the surgery side. She said it didn’t hurt but she was scared. I told her to use her hands and guide the leg up. Her hip will hold- she had a great surgeon. Stop if it hurts.

She got her foot up and paused. She made a face.

I asked, “are you okay? What is that face?”

She looked up at me and said “I didn’t know my leg could do that”

That face was astonishment. It was relief. It was her breakthrough. Her reaction was unexpected to me. It was uniquely human and brilliant. The moments like these are why I continue.

That was the moment she started trusting me but more importantly started trusting herself, trusting the leg.

That one choked me up when I finished the session. This young woman had been through the ringer her whole life with this injury. Here I am bearing witness to a moment she (nor I) will never forget. The simplest movement leading to the exhale of a complicated and painful past.

I carry this athlete with me.

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I started teaching a sequence of college credit courses I had developed on martial arts at a military college a few years ago. I was there as adjunct faculty for 2 years. I had the absolute pleasure of instructing some truly spectacular young men and women.

One of the cadets I had my second semester approached me right off the bat.

“I want to fight in golden gloves this year”

It was the end of January. Golden Gloves starts late February/ early march.

I asked if he had a camp. He said no but he has been training for a while.

I said he needed to wait until next year as he had missed the wave for this year.

He told me “but I have heart- I can do it. Whatever you say I will do, Coach”

I saw the “it” factor in him. I knew he was telling the truth. I also knew if he waited a year, he would be conditioned to be a champion physically and technically.

“I’m sorry. I will coach you for next year but it is too late for this year.”

His hope turned to anger.

“They told me they had boxing and you aren’t who they said you were!”

I let him get it all out. He was already in my class. He stayed enrolled, which surprised me.

Every day he asked about Golden Gloves, as if I was going to change my mind or be worn down. I didn’t budge.

“Cadet, you are not ready. I will train you for next year.”

He kept coming to class and training. Golden Gloves came and went. I took the class down to train with my old team in Delaware.

He didn’t last 4 rounds without being 100% winded. On the ride home he said, “you were right coach, I was not ready”.

I told him that it’s okay.

At the end of the semester he came to me and said he had been accepted into a higher ranked military school. This school had more resources and an active boxing team.

He said he would be “staying here”.

I asked him why and he said “because you’re going to take me to Golden Gloves, Coach. I want to stay here with you.”

“No-

You’re going to transfer, Cadet. This is an amazing opportunity. You need to go. I want you to go. You have earned it”

He begged me to let him stay, even one more semester for training. I told him absolutely not. I would always be here for him.

“Do you trust me?” I inquired.

“Yes, Coach”

He knew where this was going and sighed.

“Then you need to go. You’re going to love it. I promise. Go spread your wings.”

“Yes, Coach.”

By the end of his first semester he was sending me links to watch him fight. He was shining as much as I knew he could. He had been elected as a class leader. I couldn’t be more proud.

Would I have loved to coach him to the moon and back? Absolutely. ABSOLUTELY. However, for him, I looked 2, 5 and 15 years down the road. This was the combo to set up the knock out. I would have driven him up there myself if it came to that.

I carry them all with me. Dozens of athletes who have made me smile, face palm and want to rip my hair out. I carry their successes and failures. I carry their stories, their hopes and dreams. I carry their fears and secrets. I feel lucky to have been given the opportunity to be a part of their lives. They have taught me patience and communication.

Most importantly, they have shown me how much heart plays a role in one’s success, even against all odds. Humans can accomplish some truly amazing feats if their heart is activated, no matter the industry or task.

To all the athletes I’ve coached, thank you for sharing your heart with me.