Last week I was training with someone I’ll call John. He was having a really rough week. He really spilled out his guts and heart to me about how he was feeling about his body, weight, and sense of self. At one point, he broke down into tears. It was an important moment for both of us.From my perspective as a coach, moments like this are crucial to the development of a person’s “new” self. It’s that moment where a person stares into the depths of the unknown and confronts their dragons. Now, in this moment with John, I tried to be all of the best parts of myself: empathetic, understanding, gentle. But sometimes even when I try my hardest, I often fail to communicate gently enough. Sometimes I just miss the mark. Sometimes I come across as a wise-ass, or my tongue-in-cheek attempt at humor is more aptly described as “foot-in-mouth.”I’m not sure how I was coming across to John in that moment, but minutes later, while I was demonstrating for him a new exercise (the Sumo Squat, in which the participant must squat very, very deeply) I ate my own slice of humble pie. The seams of my cargo pants suddenly gave with a loud “RIP” and tear up the back of my A&F trousers. Talk about synchronicity.It couldn’t have been more perfect, because we immediately shared a hearty guffaw. It bonded us in a way that no empathetic, gentle, understanding speech from me could have. It brought us both gently back down to earth for a second, and helped me remember that no matter how beautiful, worked out, toned, tight, ripped, sexy or studly you are: we’re all in this together—there’s no room for attitude.John apologized for his tears, but no apology was necessary, I said, because (paraphrasing from Jerry Maguire): “Breakdown—breakthrough.” My breakthrough that day was realizing, once again, that we all put our gym shorts on one leg at a time. —S. PageThis post originally published February 13, 2007.Similar Posts:Blind Leading the BlindThrow the HatSix (More) Signs of a Lazy T
Last week I was training with someone I’ll call John. He was having a really rough week. He really spilled out his guts and heart to me about how he was feeling about his body, weight, and sense of self. At one point, he broke down into tears. It was an important moment for both of us.
From my perspective as a coach, moments like this are crucial to the development of a person’s “new” self. It’s that moment where a person stares into the depths of the unknown and confronts their dragons. Now, in this moment with John, I tried to be all of the best parts of myself: empathetic, understanding, gentle. But sometimes even when I try my hardest, I often fail to communicate gently enough. Sometimes I just miss the mark. Sometimes I come across as a wise-ass, or my tongue-in-cheek attempt at humor is more aptly described as “foot-in-mouth.”
I’m not sure how I was coming across to John in that moment, but minutes later, while I was demonstrating for him a new exercise (the Sumo Squat, in which the participant must squat very, very deeply) I ate my own slice of humble pie. The seams of my cargo pants suddenly gave with a loud “RIP” and tear up the back of my A&F trousers. Talk about synchronicity.
It couldn’t have been more perfect, because we immediately shared a hearty guffaw. It bonded us in a way that no empathetic, gentle, understanding speech from me could have. It brought us both gently back down to earth for a second, and helped me remember that no matter how beautiful, worked out, toned, tight, ripped, sexy or studly you are: we’re all in this together—there’s no room for attitude.
John apologized for his tears, but no apology was necessary, I said, because (paraphrasing from Jerry Maguire): “Breakdown—breakthrough.”
My breakthrough that day was realizing, once again, that we all put our gym shorts on one leg at a time. —S. Page
This post originally published February 13, 2007.
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