Diary of a pandemic trainer
Sunday, March 15, my first glimpse of what was coming. I received a message from two of my long-term clients saying they wanted to discuss how to manage their training sessions. Though vibrant, healthy, and more active than people decades younger, at 73 and 82, they are in a demographic considered vulnerable to COVID-19.
“We don’t want you to lose any money,” they said, “but we don’t want to come into the studio.” Thinking on my feet, I suggested we try training via FaceTime; them at home, and me on the mats at my studio.
We struggled a bit to find the right angles and eventually settled with their iPad on their bedroom floor so I could see them on the ground for mat work and positioned further back for standing work. I guided them through a workout circuit using what they had: resistance loops and two 5 lb dumbbells. We were mutually delighted at how easy it was to create movement that was challenging and fun.
It was during the second of the two sessions that my iPad began to go crazy. Five different people sent me texts with the same article about a shelter-in-place order. Then one of my partners called and called again. Then my husband. It became clear that something had happened.
I left my Oakland studio that day not knowing when I’d be back. I still don’t. But my resolve was clear. With the world turned upside down, I had the ability to provide something sane and consistent for the people in my care. By 8 p.m. I had my clients set up for online training.
The novelty of working from home was initially a breath of fresh air. After all, I had two extra hours in my day without my commute. I slept in, walked the dogs, and hung out with my daughter, who began her spring college quarter from home. But soon, the tiny spare bedroom that became my training studio felt confining and the ambiguity of the situation created limbo-like surrealism to my workdays.
Feelings are difficult to quantify and catalog under the best of circumstances. As a participant in a historic event happening in real-time, emotions are hard to put into tidy boxes. There is a strange paradox to the sense of gratitude I feel at the reliability of an income, with the big picture uncertainty of what will happen to my studio and my new FitCation business. There is also a sort of survivor-guilt that I have the luxury of worrying about these things when my mortgage is covered and groceries are abundant. I think back on the loneliness and isolation I felt as a single mom on weekends and holidays when it was all me all the time. But I wasn’t trying to work at home AND homeschool my two small children. And I could go to parks, movies, playdates. What right do I have to feel any self-pity about my situation?
My video sessions open a window to broad ranges of thoughts.
“2020 is a lost year,” one person told me.
But it’s only April, I thought.
“I don’t know when I’ll ever feel safe to go out in public,” another said.
For some people, it’s all they want to talk about while for others, they want to talk about anything else. Regardless of the paradigm, everyone is processing. I fall back on the things that feel steady and constant.
“Use your breath,” I say, “keep your core stable and reach out on an inhale--and exhale and fold.” Or “10 more seconds to rest and then we jump!”
I’m clear that I’m providing a necessary service to my clients. The 45-minutes I spend with them are a connection to normalcy, a link to life outside of quarantine. I also realize how much I need the sessions, too. The desire for human connection is an essential piece of our humanity. Connection, even video connection, can help the loneliness and act as a salve for our anxiety and isolation.
It is the silver lining of the pandemic. The relationships that we took for granted 4 weeks ago are our lifelines and for the first time in our lives, are accorded the value that they deserve.