TOTAL READ TIME: 4 Minutes

Strength training can take many forms. © Kathy J. Sotak

I took a seven-year hiatus from weight training. I don’t recommend it. I got squishy, grumpy and complacent.

Why did I stop? It’s simple. I moved across country and did not re-incorporate it back into my weekly routine. I let life get too busy, then when I looked up almost a decade had lapsed.

Back in Minnesota before the hiatus, I lifted weights with instructor Alan. He showed up faithfully on Wednesdays and Saturdays and so did I. He taught his class both exceptional form and fun. (For example, for the proper squat technique, simply pretend you are sitting down on a toilet.)

Every class was an engaging group effort. He pushed us safely to the edge of our limits. We cheered for each other when we wanted to stop. At the end, we would count the final reps backwards, shouting to give our muscles no choice of quitting. It made me physically and mentally stronger.

Above all else, Alan had a spark in his eyes. He loved lifting weights and made us find our love for strength training too. When my family started planning for our cross-country move, life got really busy. At those final remaining classes, I would think, “Next time I’ll say goodbye to Alan. Next time I’ll let him know I’m moving and thank him for his profound impact on my life.”

Next time.

You already know where I’m headed. I got too busy. I forgot to say goodbye to Alan. I forgot to say thank you.

I wonder what went through Alan’s head. I was one of his faithful participants for years, who showed up every Wednesday and Saturday rain or shine. I set up my barbell and weights in the same spot – first row to his right. Then I disappeared. Did he think I moved to a different gym? That I was unhappy with his class? Where did she go? Why didn’t she say goodbye?

Seven years later, now that I’m lifting weights in a different state with different instructors, my memories of Alan have resurfaced. I hear his form corrections in my head, making sure I isolate my triceps and carry the perfect posture for dead lifts. I have superior form with clean and presses, thanks to Alan. However, underneath all of this is a brewing regret that I did not say goodbye.

What do I do now, with this regret I can’t shake? Do I bury it and pretend it doesn’t bother me? I can’t do that. I think life is asking me to forgive myself, realizing yet again I am not perfect. Then, I will pay it forward by telling someone I admire that I admire them.  

What teachers do you have in your life that have had an impact on your life? Perhaps this is a call to action for you to tell them too. They may be informal teachers, like neighbors or friends who live their values through every cell, have passionate hobbies or have left an imprint in your heart.

As I work on creating rips in my muscles, we are both invited to create ripples of kindness as we forgive ourselves and pay it forward.

Now that’s true strength training.