Several years ago, while presenting at the NSCA Mid-Atlantic Regional Conference, I told the crowd I didn’t work with many athletes anymore—by choice. I explained that today 90–95% of my clients are general population folks, “normal” people. I also said I actually preferred training them over professional athletes.
The room fell silent, as if I’d announced I’d given up everything to wander and practice kung fu. During the Q&A later that day, a few people asked if I was okay for saying something that blasphemous. “So, you stopped training athletes to work with general population clients. Why?”
Here’s what I said. First, I think the fitness industry has this belief that if you work with pro athletes or celebrities, you’ve “made it.” You’re elite, you can write a memoir. Certifications also get a lot of weight—CSCS, CPT, and so on—but I try not to base my judgment on letters next to a name. I care more about experience and results.
Certifications matter, but I judge by track record. Training Gary from accounting doesn’t carry the same glamor as coaching an NFL player, yet it’s real coaching. A friend once summarized it well: we all train people. Whether or not they’re paid to play a sport doesn’t change their humanity, nor does it determine your status as an elite trainer. You either know what you’re doing or you don’t, and there’s plenty of both on each side.
Training professional athletes and actors has its ups and downs, just like training general population clients. I’ve been fortunate to work with people on both sides. Throughout my career I’ve felt just as much excitement watching a female client nail her first strict bodyweight chin-up as I did when one of my athletes made his Major League debut. A fun aside: I even watched a former athlete make his Big League debut on the night of my bachelor party.
Anyway, I’m not going to pretend one path is universally better. Here’s why I chose not to focus on pro athletes. You’re not my mom—you can’t tell me what to do. The truth is I still train athletes. My previous role at Cressey Sports Performance involved many pro athletes, especially overhead athletes. So reducing that abundance was a consequence of that shift, not a retirement. If Mike Trout wanted to train at CORE, I wouldn’t turn him away.
When I started my own small studio in Boston, I knew I’d serve mostly regular people who want to be able to pick up their kids and enjoy life. The location helped, but so did my own choice. I still love working with athletes, and I still do. But the joys I chase now are helping someone achieve their first two-times bodyweight squat or relieve chronic low-back pain. I wanted to recapture that joy, so I did. Bye.
I don’t feel there’s any less coaching pedigree in achieving those goals than in improving someone’s VO2 max or a vertical jump. Vince Gabriele captured it well: I get more satisfaction turning a level 3 into a level 7 than a level 8 into a level 9—the former is more rewarding.
If I’m honest with young fitness professionals, there are more general population clients in the world than pro athletes. It’s possible you may never work with athletes, regardless of how important you think you are. If you do work with athletes, it can bring prestige to attract business, but general population clients pay the bills and often provide more steady revenue.
And that’s that. I hope this resonates with those who feel “less qualified” because they don’t work with athletes, models, actors, or clowns. Maturity in coaching shows in the process of progress, not in who you know. Mine would be called “Deadlifts, Wu-Tang, and Donuts.” Early in my career, when I wrote for sites like T-Nation, people were surprised I was “just” a CPT. I still knew how to manage gluconeogenesis and write solid programs to build strength without training athletes or holding a CSCS. I did eventually earn the CSCS, but for the first five years I was simply a personal trainer. Just don’t be that coach who endlessly talks about that one Olympian you trained ten years ago. Words of wisdom from strength coach Vince McConnell.
