Today is leg day. I’m on the hack machine feeling pretty strong. Daniel leans on the nearby smith machine as I push off. “1, 2, 3…Push through your heels. Weight ok?” “Yes,” I grunt. “7, 8…We’re getting closer to competition. Are you getting excited?” 10, 11, 12, rest.
“I’ll just be happy to walk on stage. I can’t believe how much weight I lost already, ” I beam. His face dropped and he leaned his jaw into his fist. Oh no, what did I do wrong now?
“How much weight did you lose already? Twenty-one? Twenty-two pounds?”
“You’re changing your whole life, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.” I shrug my shoulders. Where is he going with this?
“Why won’t you train to win?” he asks quietly.
“Well, I’m never going to win, so why try? I mean, I never even thought about winning…”
“I know, I know, you just want a nice bikini body, and you’ll have that, it’s just, you’re the first person I’ve trained for the bikini competition and I think you could maybe place if you only tried.”
This was news to me on both fronts. Since he was a bodybuilder himself I just assumed he trained other bodybuilders for competition; I never thought I was his guinea pig. I keep forgetting how young he is. And he thinks I could place? Yet another sign of his youthful optimism.
“Oh, you want that trainer success story on the wall, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he laughed.
“”And you’ll get that. I’ll write something up. I think you’re a great trainer. I’m more in shape now than I’ve ever been.”
“I just think you should try. You have to train to win.”
But now I feel awkward. I’m never going to win. Why would he even suggest I could? Because if I say I want to win and then don’t even place, I’ll just feel bad. Won’t I?
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