I sometimes wonder if I’m truly making an impact on people. Is what I’m doing really making a difference?
Then my client Sally came in the other week after a 10-day trip to Japan with her 22-year-old daughter. She walked into the gym with an energy I thought was from being back in the gym—but it wasn’t. Her excitement wasn’t about barbells or burpees; it was about something bigger. She finally realized why she comes to the gym.
I asked her how her trip was, and she practically shouted, “I had an Eddie moment!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “What does that mean?” I asked curiously. That’s when she told me that there were actually a few “Eddie moments.”
The first one happened when Sally and her daughter biked around Mount Fuji. She explained how easy it felt for her—let me tell you, that ride is no walk in the park. It’s about 10-12 miles, roughly an hour of continuous pedaling (for any non-bikers reading). Her daughter, on the other hand, found it a serious challenge. Sally recounted this with just a little too much delight.
For once, the roles were reversed—her daughter was on the struggle bus, and Sally was coasting along. She was genuinely proud of herself, and I was proud of her, too. At 50 years old, Sally could enjoy a challenging bike ride with her daughter and not worry about keeping up. That’s fitness paying off in the real world.
The second “Eddie moment” came during the remaining days, when they hiked several 10-12 mile trails. Again, Sally grinned as she shared how she had to slow down for her daughter quite a few times. This wasn’t a smug smile; it was a proud one. She wasn’t happy that her daughter struggled—she was happy that she could do all those things and share those moments.
The third moment? Sally admitted she’s far from the perfect gym-goer. In fact, I usually have to call and remind her to get her butt to the gym. She comes reluctantly, but she comes. For the last 10 years, she’s put in the work: week after week, one or two (sometimes three) workouts, missing a stretch here and there, but always coming back.
She realized—with some amusement—that I was right: Working out really is like a savings account. Little deposits, made consistently, add up over time. That’s what let her enjoy every bit of her trip without worrying about being fit enough.
I’ve probably written about this before, but it’s worth repeating: Sometimes, you need to hear things a few times before it sinks in. One day, it hits you—I need to start taking care of myself.
If you’ve been putting it off, remember: The best time to start investing in yourself was seven years ago. The second-best time is today. Start putting those pennies in the bank. Aspire to be like Sally, and who knows—maybe you’ll surprise yourself and kick your 22-year-old kid’s butt, too. spt
SPT
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