I Didn't Know what I was Building

Twenty years ago, I joined a gym near the Home Depot store I managed.

This was not the beginning of some perfectly planned wellness journey.

I was working close to 100 hours a week and surviving on four or five hours of sleep, coffee, Diet Coke, Snickers bars—and a lot of alcohol.

Coffee is the only one of those things I still do, and even that is only occasionally.

Back then, I was exhausted, stressed and mostly trying to get through the day without losing my mind.

Working out wasn’t about building muscle for my future, protecting my bones or becoming a strong gramma.

It was stress relief.

The world of retail felt completely unpredictable.

Someone called out.

A delivery went wrong.

A customer was pissed off about something.

A hurricane was lurking.

A district manager was breathing down my neck.

There was always another problem waiting for me.

But for 30–45 minutes in the morning, I had something that was mine.

I chose a gym close to my store because if it wasn’t convenient, it wasn’t going to happen. I went before work because mornings were the only time nothing had happened yet to hijack my plans.

Even then, showing up was a monumental task.

Some mornings, getting through the gym door was the workout before the workout.

But I kept going.

All I Had to Do Was Show Up

After a few weeks, I hired a trainer named Ron.

Ron looked like he had walked straight off the cover of Muscle & Fitness. But I had watched him train women who were around my age and closer to where I was starting.

Their workouts were all different.

Nothing was cookie-cutter.

He seemed to understand the woman standing in front of him, and I could tell

that he cared.

Ron also knew when to push me.

He expected more from me when I was capable of more—but I trusted him because the plan was built for me.

For those 30–45 minutes, Ron was in control.

I didn’t have to decide what exercises to do, how much weight to use or whether I was making progress.

All I had to do was show up and follow his plan.

Honestly, if I’d had to walk into the gym and figure everything out for myself, I probably would have turned around and left.

I Was Building More Than Muscle

I left Home Depot in December 2006, but the experience of working with Ron stayed with me.

It shaped how I trained for years to come and helped create the foundation for what eventually became my new career.

Ron probably had no idea that the exhausted woman quietly watching him from across the gym would one day become a coach herself.

But I remembered how it felt to have someone meet me where I was, know when to push me and remove the pressure of figuring everything out alone.

That is still how I want my clients to feel today.

The Reason Has Changed

At 64, I’m no longer working out simply to survive a stressful job.

I’m training for the life I want to keep living.

I want to work in my yard without my back demanding that I stop.

I want to carry a grandchild when little legs get tired.

And I want to get down on the floor to play—and stand back up without making it a family event.

I want to go on trips with my kids and grandkids and not have to break for a nap.

That is what strength means to me now.

Not a smaller body.

A bigger life.

The woman who walked into that gym twenty years ago couldn’t see any of this coming.

She was simply trying to find one thing she could do for herself.

But every time she showed up, she cast a vote for the woman I am today.

What Are You Building?

We underestimate small beginnings because they don’t look impressive.

Ten minutes at home doesn’t feel like enough.

One strength workout doesn’t seem significant.

Walking through the door when you’re already exhausted doesn’t feel like progress.

But the choices we repeat become the foundation of our future.

You don’t need to know exactly where this will take you.

You don’t need an elaborate gym, an enormous goal or a perfect schedule.

You need a place to begin, a plan that makes sense for your life and a reason to keep showing up.

My Road to 65 didn’t begin this year.

In many ways, it began twenty years ago when an exhausted woman walked into a gym before work and decided to do one thing she could control.

She didn’t know what she was building.

I’m very grateful she kept showing up long enough to find out.

What are you doing today that your future self may thank you for

twenty years from now?

Or maybe the better question is:

What are you already building without realizing it?