As a kid I had this unhealthy attitude towards winning and losing. Losing to me was failure. I hated it. But then winning didn’t feel like the best thing in the world either. It felt ok but the negative emotions that I felt during defeat was far stronger than the emotions I had at winning. For years, I was a sore loser.
It didn’t help matters that I also found it difficult to get over a defeat that was out of my control. When the football club that I supported lost it could easily spoil a weekend. So supporting Liverpool in the 90’s gave me many miserable weekends.
Without realising until I was much older I now look back at my old self and wonder what opportunities I missed out on, just in case I failed. Did I not study hard enough during my GCSE years because of the hurt I would put myself through if I didn’t get the grades I wanted? Did I avoid wanting to be noticed at football so that I never had to be told that I wasn’t good enough? Did I miss out on job interviews or promotions because I didn’t want to be judged and told ‘no’? I’m sure many of us reading this can relate to how our younger selves handled these types of situations.
I’m determined for my kids not to go through the same turmoil as me. I want them to succeed in life therefore I need them to fail sometimes. I now know that the biggest learning curve is when you are having to deal with disappointment. Rather than be scared of failure, I want them to appreciate that it happens. It will be inevitable at some stage. Winning is good, but knowing how to do it after bouncing back from defeat is even better. If they can learn to manage their feelings of failure and know how to put it right now, their path to success is much smoother in later life.
In my career I have spoken to people who still sound like they hold that fear and cannot handle disappointed.
“I’d never go to the gym so there’s no point in getting a membership.”
“I’ve got a bad back so I can’t lift weights.”
“My doctor says I need to lose weight but I like eating XYZ too much.”
“I haven’t got time.”
These are all examples of excusing themselves in order to avoid disappointment. And the truth is that they will have had a gym membership before and they will have tried to diet, but their fear of not seeing results has made them quit.
The results are a big problem. We put events in our lives as either success or failure. Did I fail at English GCSE because I got B/B instead of A? Did I fail at football because I was scouted by Leeds City Boys instead of Leeds United? Did I fail in my job because I made a senior instead of managing the whole facility?
I have achieved many things but perhaps sometimes I expected too much too soon which put greater pressure on me. And much like the people I speak to, their expectations are too high. It seems easier to quit than to manage such extreme goals. Their comfort zone of not trying anymore feels safer than having to face defeat.
And yet, actually, there is no defeat as long as they have a plan, stick to it and trust the process. Results worth getting cannot happen in an instant. It does take time and it can be difficult. Sometimes, even feeling like they’ve failed will be there. It has to be there as part of the process. But that’s only because they are human and no matter what successes they have along the way it will always be the one setback that stirs the emotions the most. Using that setback as a springboard to further success is the key. Fail better.
Perhaps Dr Seuss says it best…
“Wherever you fly, you’ll be the best. Wherever you go, you will topple all the rest. Except when you don’t, because sometimes you won’t.”
Derek and Joan love Spain. So much so they’ve just put an offer in for an apartment in Andalusia situated at a purpose built community for British ex pats. They sit outside in the plaza at the local Irish pub eyeing up the fish and chips on the menu waiting for the call back from the estate agent, Juan, with some good news.
My wife and I are watching A Place In The Sun. There’s a hint of jealousy towards Derek and Joan. It’s almost April and despite a couple of days where I ventured out in a T-Shirt last week, it is now snowing.
I have a coat that I threaten to pack away into the loft each year around this time but it certainly got an outing today as I went to take the kids to school. No exaggeration it could be 20 years old or more. I bought it when I thought I could get away with the Liam Gallagher look. Now when I wear it I feel like Peter Falk as Columbo. Old and disheveled. Every time I wear it I find a different pack of rizzlas from the early 2000’s.
Although no official diagnosis I’m certain I have SAD (Seasonal Adjustment Disorder). But maybe I just hate cold weather. I mean, I don’t suffer with my mood when it turns from Spring into Summer. I just suffer from being warm to bloody freezing!
Some people like winter time and the events that happen during that time. But trudging the streets in fake blood asking for sweets, burning the effigy of a man whilst eating toffee apple, hearing Noddy Holder scream those immortal words long before it’s Christmas or trying to stay awake for Jools Holland’s Hootenanny isn’t my favourite times of the year. Walking along a sunny beach, cranking up the BBQ and sitting in the garden watching the sun go down are a few of my favourite things which all happen to be during the summer time. In fact, the only negative I can think of to a British summer is that the footy season has ended. There’s always Wimbledon I suppose.
Without a doubt a massive mood lifter to me is going to the gym. Training has kept me right for years and I’ve stated many times I think that finding a life that focussed around the gym saved my life. I once felt aimless, useless and soulless. The gym made me feel the opposite. Until I became a husband and a father, the gym was my life line.
I did some growing up in the gym. I had many ‘give your head a wobble mate’ moments. In my first proper job I had to stop off at the shop to buy a couple of whisky miniatures to down before beginning my shift a few times. It was that or a panic attack. Slowly, however, the gym became a much bigger influence in my life than any quick hit.
I developed a routine over time which meant that I went to the gym before I started work. It meant extra early starts but I felt fantastic walking into the office and the rest of the day couldn’t bring me down. The gut wrenching feeling I sometimes had as I woke up was quickly quashed once I began to train. But there was always a telling sign to my mood each day and that was the weather. The colder and grey it was outside, the more difficult it was to snap out of a low mood. If the sun seeped through the bedroom curtains in a morning, the easier it was to start my day.
My little boys help me get through a bad weather day too. I’ll stand in the cold rain all day to see Jonas score a goal. And I’ll happily build a family of snow people with Finlay to see his chuffed freezing face at the end of it. Plus, their early morning starts and them needing me for breakfast and school prep ensures that I need to get my arse in gear straight away, whatever the weather!
The weather forecast doesn’t look like I’ll need to shove my Lieutenant Columbo coat into the loft just yet so I will brave the last bit of cold before I’m able to blow up the paddling pool.
Oh, and just one more thing…Derek and Joan had their bid accepted.
This week on social media I have seen arguments about the Chris Rock and Will Smith incident. It seems there’s a Team Rock and a Team Smith thing going on. But I’ve tried to stay away from making comments myself because I am undecided and I’m not fully convinced that either of them look particularly great from this. But here’s my thoughts anyway…
Chris Rock told a pretty crap joke aimed at someone with alopecia. It wasn’t even funny. But then I am not the oracle on what is funny and what isn’t. Is comedy the same as any art? Subjective? Was Jimmy Carr’s Holocaust joke funny? I didn’t laugh, but others might.
Anyway, funny or not this joke was aimed at Will Smith’s wife who then felt obliged to give Rock a slap. I’ve told some crap (probably not politically correct) jokes in my time but I’ve also given somebody a slap for being insulting to me or my family. I’ve been Chris Rock AND Will Smith before. Maybe I haven’t been at the Oscars and my jokes or my aggression hasn’t been in front of the viewing world but for a split second I can put myself in both of their shoes.
I’m hearing so much about cancel culture these days and this does worry me. I grew up watching Love Thy Neighbour, Fawlty Towers, Rising Damp, Carry On and Only Fools And Horses. I had DVD’s of Chubby Brown as a teenager and I read Viz. They all discriminated against gender roles, race, religion, sex, wars and abilities. These days I prefer Ricky Gervais, who somehow escaped a slap at the Golden Globes and has spoken out about cancel culture himself. His series After Life is so innapropriate at times yet one of the most poignant things I have ever seen . A part of me wants to blush and turn to my wife and say “he can’t say that!” But in the next scene I’m tearing up at the sadness his character is going through.
Did Love Thy Neighbour make race relations in 1970’s UK better or worse? It wasn’t its role to educate it’s viewers but does it have a responsibility to do so either way?
Will Smith has probably sat in an audience listening to Chris Rock many times and laughed at someone else’s expense. Rock is hardly the type of comedian that will talk about his Nan’s cute catchphrases like Peter Kay. Rock is edgy and becoming a famous black American comedian in the 90’s at the same time as Will Smith becoming a famous black American actor I’m sure that they are aware of each other’s work. So does Smith usually laugh at Rock’s jokes but just not the ones involving his wife?
When does comedy become innapropriate? Yeah we have all heard of bad taste humour and we seem to be ok with that. But what if a joke is about the Holocaust, slavery, a religion or rape? When should it be cancelled? Should it ever be? With hash tag campaigns and voices that previously went unheard these days, there are certain topics that seem to be ‘no go’ areas when it comes to comedy. Yet Carr recently pushed it’s boundaries at a live gig recorded for Netflix.
And maybe it needs comedians like that who are willing to test these boundaries. If we see it as an act rather than a person speaking their opinions, then we can continue to discuss the seriousness of the subject matter. For as long as these topics are in the forefront of our minds, whether on stage at the Appolo or in Parliament, then we will keep having serious discussions on how to be a better society. Perhaps these comedians are actually, intentionally or not, becoming the scapegoats. They receive the world’s attention and get paid for it and we disect their subject matter. Win/Win?!
I have no answers and that’s why I am not Team Rock or Team Smith, but perhaps it just comes down to a man doing his job as a comedian and a man doing his job as a husband. Even if they both did a bad job at them.
I’ve been having a bit of bother in getting my lads motivated for school in recent mornings. At a certain point in the term this can happen. Tiredness creeps in and I find myself repeating the same prompts.
“Are you dressed yet?”
“Have you brushed your teeth?”
“Please just get your shoes on!”
Everything is operating on slo-mo. Although I have found a technique that currently works, at least for this week, which is giving marks out of 10 for their efforts. Whether that’s their morning routine, tidying up or meal times. The higher the score the more of earning stars for the weekend, which is usually based around the Switch and Xbox time or VBucks.
This morning my eldest asked me if he had done better than his younger brother. I had noticed that this comparison has become more prominent in both of their mindset, yet I’m very careful in not giving any extra points to one over the other. I assist them on both managing to earn the same points out of 10. This morning was a strong 9.
What I replied to my eldest was the same response I used to have to give myself and what I have to say to many trainees I have worked with…
“Concentrate on making sure that you do your best job and don’t worry about anybody else”.
It’s easy to lose your way when you compare yourself to anybody else. You are you.
I used to pick up the 30k dumbbells because Biceps Brian on the next bench to me had just pressed 28k. I was trying to prove that I could outlift them, even if my form was horrible and it put my shoulder out. I should have focused on my weight and rep range. I should have looked at yesterday’s me and tried to better myself. Nobody else. I found this out eventually which is why I became a PT, but I also need to teach myself this outside of the gym too.
Bob lives opposite with his wife and two kids. Each morning as I am telling the kids to get dressed for the tenth time and I draw back the curtains I notice Bob pass the window going on his morning run. He waves. I feel like putting the middle finger up but I wave back with a half disheveled grimace on my face.
Bob
“A wonderful morning for it!” Bob shouts as he canters down the road. Is it? I think to myself as a worn pair of undies slaps me in the face. The kids are finally getting dressed.
Bob’s kids get into his new sports car effortlessly as I bundle mine into the Juke. Off Bob goes to school with his children while I’m sifting through the crisp wrappers to find the seat belt buckle to strap the youngest in. His wife Berni gets into her car to get to work early for her very important meeting.
I see the kids are finally getting dressed
On Saturday evenings I often see Bob and Berni going out for the evening all glammed up. They head off in a taxi as their kids and child minder wave them off. I look at the clock. Its time for Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway, I’ll get the kids to bed and pour a glass of wine.
What I don’t know is that Bob won’t be drinking alcohol when they go out for the evening because he is a recovering alcoholic. His sports car is on finance and his midlife crisis made him get it and this has caused daily arguements with Berni because they can’t afford it. He goes on his daily runs because that is the only thing that gets him out of bed and his children can’t wait to be driven to school so that they don’t have to listen to mum and dad argue anymore. Berni gets to work early so she can meet up with her office fling.
We all know Bob and Berni. Their lives look terrific. But all we have managed to do is create a story in our minds that we begin to believe. You know your life. You live it every day. Warts ‘n’ all. The grief, the battle scars the daily bloody grind. So we begin to imagine that Bob and Berni have the most perfect lives.
Yet when we stop comparing ourselves to anybody else we can see that our own life isn’t so bad. Yes there’s still the ups and downs and curve balls that life throws at you, but you are owning this shit. You are not just managing to survive each day but you are thriving through adversity.
Life can be tough. Sometimes you just need to get off of the carousel. But make no mistake, Bob and Berni are no better off than you. Look at yourself and be proud of yourself today and see what you can achieve tomorrow.
It feels like I’m sat in a school hall at lunch time. No, that’s being kind. I’m in the middle of a borstal canteen. I’m waiting for a young Ray Winston to come at me with a sock full of pool balls.But it’s me who is the daddy now and I’m sat with my two boys in McDonald’s.
Two big promises that my wife and I made when we had kids is that we won’t buy our kids toy guns and we won’t take them to McDonald’s. So after a trip to The Golden Arches full of Ket they’ll be sure to go home and shoot each other with NERF guns or ‘head shot’ some kid on Fortnite. There goes that promise.
Each year, our kids are given guns for their birthday presents from other kind parents. And after much consideration my wife and I realized, perhaps with resignation, that children have always played with toy guns and probably always will. I played with cap guns, spud guns and water pistols but I didn’t grow up to be El Mariachi. Nor do I try to blow Roadrunners up with TNT because I watched Wile E Coyote and I’m not a Satanist because I went to a Marylin Manson concert as a teenager. So maybe we need to lighten up.
Since kids were having birthday parties at McDonald’s and mine were invited, which enabled their palette to taste such..erm,,delicacies then we have decided that they can go now and again as a ‘treat’. It might only be a quarterly event, but it fills me with dread with every visit. I had a mare today.
The first thing I noticed is that it felt like I was walking into a nightclub. Two security guys looked me and my lads up and down as we walked up to The Arches. Now, my youngest had just downed a bottle of fruit shoot which can make him seem a little tipsy but I was sure we would get in. I held his hand to stop any swaying and gave a confident nod to the doorman. He opened the doors for us. We were in!
The nightclub feel continued once we got inside as a bleeping noise akin to an electronic dance anthem was heard above the euphoric noise of revellers. But it was just the ubiquitous noise from the serving area.
And since when did Maccy D’s have touch screen to make an order?! My kids have very specific requests when it comes to how they have their burgers. It’s not something that I can get across on a touch screen. Chicken nuggets it is then.
As we sat down, brushing away a few courses of food on the chairs from the previous customer, I glanced around the room and my initial description of a school lunch hall was pretty accurate. Except instead of teachers telling the kids to get down from the tables it was the security guys. At one point they told a teenage boy to stop vaping or he’ll be thrown out.
Bleep!
McDonald’s food has always reminded me of toy food. It looks and tastes fake. I’m not a food snob. I’ve had many cold kebabs the morning after and I buy fake Pringles. I’ll eat most things as long as it’s not looking at me and I’ll even eat seafood sticks (formerly known as crab sticks) and I don’t know anybody else who will touch those! I’m not too fussy. But a McDonald’s burger has left my taste buds feeling empty except for a saltiness that I’m hoping my seventh pint of water will get rid of.
As we walked back to the car I was pleased to hear that my boys didn’t really like their burgers either. We all left feeling a little awkward that this ‘special tea’ experience was a bit crap.
But I can’t deny the influence of this global patty giant. Like the chain or not, it’s 850 restaurants closing in Russia is as significant today as it was it’s first opening 32 years ago. Yet every time I eat there I refuse to believe that it is their great tasting menu that makes it what it is. As McDonald’s grew in popularity in the USA the rest of the western world all wanted to eat like Americans, smoke, drink, wear jeans and drive cars like Americans. And this obsession stretched to the rest of the world too.
1950’s American McDonald’s
My kids pick up lots of accents and ‘isms’ from YouTube influencers. There’s an Irish guy who is popular at the moment but the majority seem to be American. Our leftovers go in the trash according to our kids. They put their pants over their underwear and they fall on their butts. It just seemed like yesterday that they were watching Paw Patrol on Channel 5. Today it’s YouTube channels. Their intrigue into new accents, cultures and languages don’t bother us, they can watch it but the content on YouTube is obviously closely monitored by us. Every decision like this is always discussed by my wife and I. Is it the right decision? We dunno.
Should YouTube be banned in our house? Do toy guns, statistically, cause future violent men? Do McDonald’s burgers affect healthy eating choices?
I was allowed to watch horror movies at a fairly young age. Maybe I was Jonas’ age when I watched Friday The 13th. And as I pointed out earlier I’m not an axe wielding murderer. Yet as much as I tell myself I need to lighten up our children have much more access to sex, violence and ‘swears’ as my kids call them with just the wrong click of a button. Maybe it’s different from a scary film from Blockbusters.
I’m a great believer that people need the opportunity to realise their errors for themselves. Having studied theories like Rogarian Therapy I understand how important it is for an individual to come to their own conclusions about their own life, even if these individuals are my young children. Maybe the next time we have a spare hour in town they might suggest somewhere that they actually enjoy eating at.
Last season I cringed as Jonas took his coat off during a football training session. It was a cold and wet November evening. The other kids were dressed as the Michelin Man but, despite the coach’s attempts for him to put his coat back on, Jonas refused saying that he was warm. I understand his coach having Jonas’ welfare in mind, but I also understand that until Jonas experiences a freezing cold November and can’t go back on his decision to put his coat back on in front of his mates, he won’t learn how to make the correct decision the week after. He knew it was a bad call to take his training jacket off, but bravado had gotten the better of him and it was too late for him to eat humble pie. But he has always worn his jacket on cold nights ever since. He won’t be making that mistake again.
If I don’t allow my kids to make measured mistakes now, in ten years time when they are met with much greater decisions to make they will struggle. Those who work with me will know that I embrace failure. Failure, or bad decision making, should lead to reflection on how to make better decisions next time around. If I tell my kids not to put YouTube on, or that McDonald’s is not an option, then the desire to eat the forbidden fruit will grow. I’d rather that they taste it now and hope that they realize that the forbidden fruit isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. YouTube channels of people playing on computer games are tedious after a while and a McDonald’s burger is nowhere near the standard of one that they can make at home.
But this is all a ‘hope for the best’ situation. I’ve trained people for longer that I have been a father. I’ve taken a journey with hundreds of trainees, whereas I’ve only been to McDonald’s with my kids half a dozen times. I’m qualified at training people with their physical and mental wellbeing. I’m not qualified at being a dad. Maybe a few lessons and an exam would have been helpful. As it is though I’ve got to wing it, like all parents do. In my job I know every given situation and how to deal with it. Eating disorders, self harm, depression, athletes with Olympic dreams, bodybuilders, fat loss or weight gain goals, I have a plan for every person who approaches me.
But in McDonald’s with their touchscreen ordering, two hungry kids, doormen chasing unruly customers and an incessant bleaping noise coming from the tills and I’m a nervous wreck by the end of it.
Being educated in three strict Catholic schools growing up my thinking time, or ‘thoughts and prayers’, were done in a church.
Perhaps being taught by strict Nuns didn’t help my views on religion though. Religious Education was all about Catholicism and I grew up with a very blinkered view of faith.
As a teenager I bought and read the Quran which maybe proves my rebellious nature more than it does my intrigue into religion. Spanish was taught in my GCSE years, so I learnt German in my spare time. I was taught Shakespeare by my teachers so I read and quoted Leonard Cohen instead. I was sent out of a History class once for questioning why we weren’t taught black history. In a 1995 Catholic school you didn’t question their teachings. My name in the staff room was probably mud.
I’m slightly envious of a person who has faith in a God. That must be a deep and profound relationship which holds reassurances I cannot even begin to imagine. Sometimes, if we watch the 10 0’Clock news too much, reassurance is important. But I can’t pretend to be someone I am not.
I need some time to think.
My eldest son, who goes to a Church of England school, says that he is a Christian. He knows that his mum and I are not and I admire his independence in making up his own mind. I’m trying my hardest to get him to support Liverpool instead of Aston Villa! But I’d never try and change his mind regarding his faith. He is his own person and I will try to guide his beliefs whilst being honest to myself too.
On the occasional Sunday it is ‘update’ time on their game Fortnite. This is when the whole gaming community start climbing the walls as their console screen reads ‘Server not responding’. A new chapter in the game is downloading and it can take a few hours before it can be played. If I’ve lost you in this last paragraph then don’t worry. Fortnite is lost on me too. But the important thing here is the window of opportunity to drag the kids away from the computer screen and take them to my place of worship. After all, I’ve been to Jonas’ many times.
I need some time to think.
As we walk along the cliff edge at Cornelian bay I find my time. There’s something satisfying in looking out to where the sky meets the sea. The spring sunshine shimmers across the cold North Sea as it crashes against the rocks below. The smell of the salty waves and seaweed is fresh as it reaches my senses way above the cliff top. The breeze mixed with the occasional gust of wind waters my eyes. Or at least, that’s what I tell my wife as she catches a tear from my cheek. I’d be a rich man if I could bottle that moment and sell it. But I’m richer still by telling you about it for free. That moment is there for anybody to feel.
Fortnite is back on now. The boys only get console time over the weekend so I don’t mind their enthusiasm to get back home to play on it. Not only did they accompany me to my thinking place but they also helped forage for gorse and nettle, so they deserve their free time.
Whether we pray, meditate or walk and think it plays a crucial role in our mental health. Another of my thinking places is at the gym, but it is a very different experience of course. Thoughts are often interrupted by conversations about macros and deadlifts. And I’m fine with that. My schooling might not have been my greatest learning experience, but one subject I do know is macros and deadlifts.
I need some time to think. And you do too. Wherever you go to get that time, make sure that you prioritize it as much as you do your eating, sleeping, training and breathing. It can keep us healthy. It can keep us alive.
It helps having a past full of ‘what ifs’ as a PT. I can draw from my own experiences and, 9 times out of 10, instantly connect with a new trainee because they have the same ‘what ifs’ as me.
Most of the subject matters might be different of course. For me it’s my lack of traveling when I was younger or not saving money when I had the chance. I chose to spend my money on nights out in Leeds and clothes that I didn’t need. One night out in Leeds, even 15 years ago, would easily cost £100. Most weeks I’d go out clubbing twice a week. That’s a lot of the world I could have seen. Instead, I got no further than Majestic’s in Quebec Street, Leeds 1.
I had fun. Regrets don’t weigh too heavily on me. But there is often a ‘what if’ moment as I look back.
Another of those moments and this I can guarantee is something that is identifiable with my trainees is the feeling of unlocking my fitness potential. What if I’d have done this sooner, or done it properly first time round?
Fitter than I’ve ever been now at 43, had I had this knowledge and application 25 years ago could I have saved years of physical pain and mental anguish? I think I know the answer, but it will forever remain a ‘what if’.
I am convinced that, as human beings, we were meant to climb, lift, run, squat, throw and jump. And yet we became so clever that we practically abolished these great human traits and replaced them with lifts, cars, trams, supermarkets, takeaways, online ordering and anything else that required us to do as little as possible in order to get what we wanted. We wanted convenience.
Physically we can still do all of these things that we were designed (or evolved) to do but mentally we are becoming so tied up in the notion that we don’t have to do it.
Our society is becoming fatter and more depressed. We know what we should do. We have a history of millions of years telling us what we should do, but the comfort of convenience takes over.
And it’s not about how many miles you can run or how much weight you can lift. Unlocking your full potential begins by moving. That’s it. That’s the first part and it’s a huge step for lots of people.
But fear engulfs us. We feel safer in doing what we know, even if it niggles away at us as we complain on Facebook about our weight or our latest ailment. We want the replies of ‘You ok Hun?’. We get the rant off of our chest to anyone who will listen for another week or two.
A ship is always safe a shore but it is not what it is built for. No matter how slow it needs to go, a ship is built to move. In doing so it heads into dangerous waters with unprecedented conditions, but it is built to deal with it and reach it’s destination. With a captain and a map the journey is less treacherous too.
We must realise our full potential and set sail ourselves. Another day a shore is another wondering.
My trainees become their own captain. That is the deal, that one day they can train without me. They create an active lifestyle that involves consistent training and a diet that they can enjoy guilt free. Because I know how they felt in the very first day they approached me. And I know how to manage the ‘what if’.
There are a few stand out memories of when I was a child with my mum. And now that she has gone, those memories become even more special.
Watching Liverpool against Arsenal in the old first division on TV with my dad and my mum entered the room and shouted “Come on Arsenal!” remains high up there. Arsenal’s Michael Thomas scored straight after my mum called for Arsenal. It was a last minute winner for them in the last game of the season to clinch the title away from Liverpool.
League titles for Liverpool have been hard to come by since then, so I’ll never forget that!
“C’mon Arsenal!” Cheers Ma
We went abroad on holiday as a family a few times which seemed very luxurious for us at the time, but it was a week in Skipsea, Primrose Valley or Morecambe that I remember the most about my mum on holiday. 10 people cramming into a caravan for a game of cards late at night while the kids watched on fuelled by sweet seaside rock no doubt. Good times.
And then there were the times that I was ill and didn’t go to school. I remember my mum bringing me a chunky veg soup and watching Neighbors on TV with me. Neighbours was on twice a day and it’s first daily showing was at lunchtime. I don’t think I’ll be the only kid who remembers watching Neighbours with their parents. Whether it was on a lunchtime or it’s teatime showing, families would all want to know the gossip on Ramsey Street.
Imagine my disappointment then, of hearing that Neighbours was getting cancelled. After 37 years on our screens it had finally met its end. And listening to a phone in on the radio I realized that there were lots of other people who had watched it with their parents too. It was a part of growing up! In fact I was surprised to discover that many of these people talking about their memories of watching Neighbours with their parents were actually now watching it with their own kids! I had stopped watching it in the early 90’s. I probably ditched it for the edgier Heartbreak High.
So I find it odd that I find myself writing about a TV programme that I haven’t even watched in 30 years and I’m obviously emotional by this news!
But it isn’t because I will never know what happens to Karl Kennedy or find out if Scott and Charlene lived happily ever after.
It is the thought of something comforting and familiar that sparked a happy memory… disappearing. I live just half an hour drive from Primrose Valley and Morecambe is still there. Liverpool and Arsenal will continue to battle it out in top flight football. It continues to exist and bring memories.
But slurping on a bowl of chunky veg soup with Neighbours on TV with my mum next to me won’t happen again and the comfort of the settings, the characters and the theme tune will become even more distant than ever before.
Some days I still feel like a kid. The vulnerable child that would put his head under the duvet and weep. My childhood wasn’t one of fear or sadness, but I had the usual anxieties in fitting in with my peers, scared of my parents dying or feeling lonely in a very big world.
If only my life would allow my older self a few minutes sometimes to just put my head under the duvet. After all, the same anxieties are there. But it doesn’t. You might feel the same too. Life doesn’t take a time out just for you so that you can reset and face the world again. It keeps going. And the older I seem to get, the faster it keeps going.
Life doesn’t get any easier, we just need to get stronger.
I’ve been approached by uninformed people at a previous gym that I trained in that have asked ‘how are you a PT at your age?’ or ‘why aren’t you ripped if you know what to do?’
It is a misconception that to be a PT you need a six pack all year round and you need to be young. Unfortunately, even within the PT circles, this is the belief. But that is why I’ll still have a Coaching business in 10 years time. I appeal to 99% of mainstream gym goers and I use my previous work experience to run a successful business. I am one of the gym members. That makes my job easier.
But another misconception of being a PT is that I train people to be fitter, to run more or to lift heavier.
I want my trainees to acquire these physical attributes if that is their goal, but my main focus is for them to become mentally stronger.
Benching 70k one month and 80k the next is fairly straightforward for our physical form to do. But mentally you need to be strong. If you aren’t, you will become frustrated and you will give up. Training your brain to accept that 1% improvement is a big achievement and much more productive in anything, not just the gym. But for me, life and my training are linked.
When I perform a back squat, for me the barbell represents the world with the weight on my shoulders. So I squat the hell out of it. Its not going to bring me down. Not today. It enables me to take this strength and power into my every day life. I no longer need the duvet. Today I am strong.
And it doesn’t matter how many plates were on the bar. That isn’t what makes me stronger. Its the fact that I did it. That is the key to becoming stronger. Just doing it.
Nothing gets easier, we just get better at it. This rumbling snowball of life quickly rolling towards you as it accumulates more and more stress and angst is something that we learn to outrun. We learn to pick it up and throw it. We teach ourselves to take the hit if we have to and we grow more powerful than it.
We put it on our backs, feel the weight, squat it and put it back on the rack. And we’ve survived another day.
Little did I know that this time two years ago I would be about to lose my sanctuary (the gym), I would have to fight to keep hold of my business, I would be home schooling my kids, our bank balance and savings would all but disappear and I would be told that if I left my home for more than an hour at a time I could catch a killer desease.
No. It’s not from a Horror movie. In the UK, Covid lockdown restrictions began in late March.
Just before it happened my business as a PT was strong with happy trainees and new people wanting to join. My own training was pretty good and I had a nutrition plan that I was sticking to. My wife was ready to begin a new business and my kids were thriving at school and in extra curricular activities. Our dream of taking our business ideas to Southern France was taking shape.
But March 2020 happened. Trust me this isnt a sob story. My family and friends have stayed healthy and we’ve all rode the waves of two years of restrictions and uncertainties. We’re lucky.
Below is an illustration of how my fitness journey went over the past two years. Top is from May 2020. The sun was shining. I couldn’t leave the house. The BBQ was cranked up daily and a cold beer or G&T time seemed to get earlier by the day. It was boring and stressful. My fitness suffered. Apart from a few token squats as I tried to encourage my kids to exercise to Joe Wicks I didn’t train myself.
Bottom left is from a year later. So three lockdowns (and gym closures) later. Of course I was keen to train when the gym managed to be open and I could go to work but my diet had suffered and I was still trying to cut my alcohol intake down.
Bottom right is from today, Feb 2022. My Programming and nutritioning has been strict for a few months now and alcohol is limited to weekends. Even then I’ve done a dry October and a dry January and, if I’m being honest, I don’t miss it when I don’t drink. Maybe my habit was out of stress?
My journey is far from finished. Indeed, my journey will never end! I’m not looking for a destination.
So there you go, a short update about me, my last two years and my journey so far. Onwards and upwards so they say!
Never Give Up PT 