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“Why don’t we start with an elliptical.”
It was 2012 and my first session with a personal trainer.
All right, of course, I thought. “The warm-up would be great …”
Then he continued:
“… because the weights will be too difficult for you.”
“We’re waiting for what?” I wondered, “Also hard? Why would you say that? “
He kept saying, “Eventually we have to work this belly!”
Unison, I looked down. my tummy. Like the rest of me, she was great.
However, this was not the reason why I signed up for training.
My fingernails pierced my palms.
Maybe, I thought, if I explained things to him, he would understand my origins and my goals. However, my desire to please stopped me from speaking.
Instead, I climbed an elliptical.
“I’ll see you next session,” he chirped when training was over.
“Of course,” I said.
But there would never be another session – at least not with him.
A few months after this personal training, I entered CrossFit boxing.
When I saw the bars – and the people who use them – I lit up.
I immediately realized that this was the type of strength training for me.
When the instructor told us to tune in and showed the class how to lift deadlifts, I loaded my barbell and looked at those 125 pounds of iron with impatience.
Then the coach walked over to me and removed one plate, then another.
Confused, I asked, “Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure if you’re strong enough yet,” he said.
Heat rushed to my face.
I was more than strong enough. Probably stronger than people with smaller frames in the class.
He didn’t know that because he hadn’t asked.
Seeing my body, he assumed there was no history or personal records.
He looked at me and saw a beginner, both in his class and in the gym as a whole. Again, I said nothing. At that time in my life, I had no confidence.
I just wanted to fit in. I did as I was told.
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Many people are very wrong about older people like me.
They tend to associate a large body with weakness.
They also mistakenly believe that we have never tried to change our shape or size, which is rare.
I recently sat down at the health check-in table.
Before asking about my story, the new doctor said, “How do you feel when you try to lose weight? Losing 10 percent of your body weight can … ”
My stomach clenched in anger, shame, and distrust.
In the fragile paper dress, I felt exposed. I watched him, blinking faster, trying to figure out how to tell him that I had already lost 50 pounds. That was already more than 10 percent of my body weight.
Again, this health professional had not asked about my history or current habits. He just guessed.
My background may surprise you.
I was 8 years old, as people say, a big girl, but my father didn’t see that when he looked at me.
He saw my potential, my strength and my beauty.
Dad had huge brown eyes that greeted the people inside, a storm of laughter that could bring a smile to the face of the most grumpy person, and a contagious attitude of ability.
As he often said, “There’s no reason you can’t. He can’t, he never could. “
Several times a week he invited me to join him at the fire station where he worked. There was a weight bench, a set of dumbbells, and a Smith machine in the TV room. With the scent of spaghetti, chili, and cornbread from a nearby kitchen, Dad turned on the music and asked, “Are you ready?”
In each of these sessions, he encouraged me to do things that I initially thought were impossible.
At least not for a girl.
Especially not a big girl like me.
Each session made me feel strong, capable and proud.
Inexplicably, I did not adhere to it.
My parents divorced. Dad moved out. I grew up a self-conscious teenager and a young adult who smoked.
By my 20s, the scale weighed 284 pounds, and my doctor described me as “painfully obese.”
I swore I would never weigh myself again.
Then, in my 30s, I had a stroke and swore to be healthy.
My wellness trip started with walking on the treadmill for two minutes.
This included daily struggles with self-doubt and depression.
There were slow, awkward improvements with diet and treadmill – and ultimately a love affair with the barbell.
By the time I met this coach in 2012, I had lost 30 pounds and was running half marathons. When I met the second CrossFit boxing coach, I had lost 50 pounds – and managed to raise 125 easily.
And now?
I can lift 250 deadlifts and clear more than 130.
I am also a certified health trainer and CrossFit instructor.
I am not weak. Not physically – and not mentally.
Kelly Fouchek weighed 125 pounds over her head during a barbell clinic.
Losing weight and maintaining it is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
And that’s right there by going to the gym.
No matter how strong I become, people constantly underestimate me – based solely on my appearance.
Some people may wonder: What makes me come back?
I’m facing fitness in part because I don’t want to have another stroke. I do not want to leave my children without mothers. And I don’t want to weigh 280 pounds again.
In my most difficult days, however, it is my father who leads me through the door.
As early as 2014, he was rushed to the hospital with pancreatitis. Three weeks later, at the age of 57, he died.
I still grieve for his loss. Each weight session helps keep some of it with me.
“I’m going to do this, and I don’t care what anyone else says,” I tell myself as self-doubt tries to stop me.
“He can’t, he never could. He can’t, he never could. I can not. never. Could. I enter through this door. “
Sometimes I wish I could go back in time – I would be taller, advocate, educate.
Instead of swallowing my words and doing what I was told, I would explain to these health professionals that there is something more than my size.
“Hey, I’ve been lifting before,” I imagine, “I’d like to show you what I can do.”
I would recommend the doctor to take a complete history before going straight to the council.
I also wouldn’t mind telling dozens of people, “I know you’re watching me.”
And that these “good for you, darling” comments can really sting.
But most of all, I want everyone with a body like mine to know this:
Keep your goal in your pocket.
When you are scared, frightened or feel unworthy – and you will be-I remember why you do that. Keep it close to you and know that you can do anything.
Your why will hold you. And I will be there with you.
If you are a coach or want to be …
Learning how to educate clients, patients, friends or family members through healthy eating and lifestyle changes – in a way that is personalized for their unique body, preferences and circumstances – is both an art and a science.
If you want to learn more about both, consider Certification for precision nutrition level 1.
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