Not my Gym Boss who ain't going anywhere, but the guy who runs the athletic training classes that I like to attend at my second gym. We have had 35-40 people who follow his classes. He made it fun to experience pain and as a result there was some good group bonding.
It's an American story. He's about 30, with a wife and 2 little girls. Until yesterday with his announcement, I just thought he was just a regular trainer and class instructor - and a fine one, but during all this time he had been living in poverty and spending half his days in classes. He announced that this would be his last class, that he had completed his degree to be a Physical Therapist, and was moving to Texas for a great new job.
His two classes I usually took were mixed cardio/balance/athleticism/calisthenics things, lots of variation, with 6-second rests between items and most items 60 seconds. Kept us moving and sweating. Old and young, fit and unfit, guys and gals. Some cute gals. After an hour, everybody was happily done in.
For his good bye exercise, he put on some 6-minute hip hop thing with a strong beat and about 40-second bridges. He had us do body weight squats to the beat, and squat-and-holds during the bridges. Burn.
I was surprised by how saddened I felt by his announcement. We all clapped and wished him luck, and he insisted on giving us all a hug. A great moment. It's always amazing to me how we humans make attachments. He will have a fine new career, because he knows how to push people with good cheer and attentive correction.
Each morning at 6 he would run in, take off his motorcycle helmet and jacket, and "Good morning, wake up everybody, let's get moving! Gimme some jumping jacks to wake up. Here we go, let's go, it's a beautiful day." And then the terrible music began that you never really heard because all you wanted to do was to survive the hour with a trace of dignity.
