Failures hurt. Here’s what I learned from one.
Something odd happened as I tried to keep an online client. I spent a couple of days reeling, the experience turning into a wake-up call I couldn’t ignore.
This client was someone I’d met in Boston. After following my blog for years, she decided to ditch Zumba (not that there’s anything wrong with Zumba) and start strength training. We hopped on a call, talked through her goals and injury history, and I set her up with a program. Then things didn’t go as planned.
A few weeks in, she sent me a breakup email that no one wants to receive. It wasn’t me, it was her—she just needed more space and felt overwhelmed by the program. She eventually headed back to Zumba. In her note, she walked me through the challenges she faced with the plan I’d written. The line that stood out most was about the cable machine: “I’ve never used the cable pull-down. That’s in the ‘boy area,’ and I feel I should be carrying a gallon of blue liquid to even be allowed. How do I approach it? How do I change the weight? How long can I stay on it?” She wrote that it would be hard to push through unless someone showed her first.
Losing a client stung. But once I moved past my own feelings, I faced the many little realities of strength training that I’d been taking for granted. I remembered what it felt like when I first started taking training seriously. Walking into the free-weight room (not the Nautilus area) with a crowd of people pushing hard, worrying about where to put my gym bag, warming up, and wondering why that guy in the corner looked like he was wearing a wrestling costume—this really happened. I remembered the days when I couldn’t get the bar off my chest at 24, or couldn’t press 15 pounds for more than three reps at 15. I forgot how long it took me to read and understand a program—sets, reps, tempo, and questions like what a Pallof Press or a Landmine even is, or what to do if my gym doesn’t have one.
I live a bubble of strength training, and this client reminded me how hard it can be for many people to clear those hurdles. I try to give people a roadmap, but I sometimes forget they don’t know how to drive yet. What I want most is for people to fall in love with strength training the way I did, because it’s good for them.
Her breakup email reminded me of people out there—especially women—who are trying to separate good information from the noise of Insta-trainers and infomercials. They carry old feelings of inadequacy every time they step into a gym, because memories from gym class aren’t as far away as they seem.
I’m grateful to this client for reminding me as a coach that I have to help clients learn how to drive before I send them on their way.
That’s why I wrote a book. I did it not to boast, but to truly help people—particularly women—who are too intimidated to ask for help or to walk into a weight room. I wanted to show them that they CAN do it, in a way that meets them where they are.
Start Where You Are: A Beginner’s Guide to Lifting Weights and Feeling Great.
If you’re curious, the book is a practical guide to lifting weights safely, efficiently, and with real-world, results-driven steps. Kim is a phenomenal coach.
Okay, maybe I did write a book.
